(Sorry it took so long)

I wish jay would just warm up to Jake already. She acts like he’s the plague or something! I mean he rescued me for Pete’s sake! Without him I probably would have gotten lost or even died.

Anyway, after the dance I headed to my room, stopping a few times to talk to people. You see unlike Jay, I’m an extrovert. I like making friends. I tend to trust people within the hour I meet them.

Then again I’ve never really had social interaction before considering I lived in the woods with my father and sister. Hmmm. Maybe I jumped the gun with trusting Jake.

That’s when I remembered a conversation a had with him that day they found me…

“So, I just curious, not in a morbid way, what was the name of the boy who died?” I had asked him. “Umm… Paul…” he answered while tying up the rest of some supplies. “Okay, one more thing, what happened to his sister?” He froze for a moment, sighed and said, “I don’t know, he never told us. Now can you please go help some of the boys?”

He seemed bothered and annoyed that I had asked these questions. What if Jay was right in not trusting them. What if I just made a major mistake bringing them here.

I need to know. There’s only one way to find out. I will have to spy on them. This should be interesting.

I laid down, and right before I drifted into the land of dreams, I made a plan for spying on Jake and the boys.

The next morning I woke up and got ready. I put a mini notebook, a pen, and my phone into my pockets. Then I headed to breakfast where I would start my investigation.

Like always, I found and sat next to Jay. She looked perplexed. “Whatcha thinking about?” I asked her. “How did some of the boys ended with Jake…”

“Really? Jay it’s kinda creepy to be thinking about him 24/7.” Well, now I feel awkward yes, but I need her to stay away, if Jake is dangerous, it’s for her own protection.

Of course Jake had to pick this moment to sit down next to me. “Hey guys, how you doing?” he questioned us. “Why aren’t you sitting you your pack?” Jay shot back. “Because even I need a break from them every once in awhile,” he said evenly.

They stared at each other for a good long moment before starting to eat. The table was quiet. As I listening to hum of others talking and eating I tried to think of something to say.

A moment later Jay stood up and left the table. She must be really agitated because she didn’t even say bye to me.

“Sooo… any plans for today?” I asked him, hoping I seem casual. “Just hanging out, might take another look around the ware in the afternoon. Why?” he replied. “Just curious…” I mumbled.

Soon after that Jay left, than Jake. I waited 10 minutes and then headed after Jake.

I headed towards his room. On the way there I noticed the walls. They were painted to look like flames. I fingered the paint as I walked by.

I reached the corner by his doorway. It was open. I could hear voices from inside. I pulled out my phone and started recording.

“Did you notice how weird Dale was acting at breakfast?” said a voice (Brain, I think). “Not really, I was too busy enjoying Jay’s uncomfortableness.” Replied Jake.

They laugh. “Do you think he’s catching on?” questions Brian. “No, he’s too stupid.” Jake says hauntingly. They laugh once more.

“But what if he does? What would we do?” Brian asks. “Simple, we’ll deal with it. We move swiftly, and get the job done.”

That’s when I hear then getting up and moving towards the hall. I rush to put up my phone and act like I just walked down the hallway. “Oh, hey guys!” I say a little too cheerfully. They give each other a look and then reply.

“Hey Dale, what’s up?” Jake replies smoothly. “N-n-nothing much” I stutter. Jake and Brian share another look.

“Well, gotta go.” I croaked. I went to turn around when Jake grabbed my shoulder. “Everything okay?” he questions suspiciously. “Yup. totally fine.” I turned and rush down the hall.

It’s not until I reach my room that I realize that Jay was right. Jake CANNOT be trusted. They’re planning something. What’s worse is that they sound like they’ll stop at nothing to get it done.

Everyone is at risk. Especially since Jake has his boys who do his bidding at the flick of his finger.

I need to warn someone. But that might put Jay at risk even more if they find that I know something and told. Besides all I know is that they're planning something and they think I don’t suspect anything.

If I told anyone it’d be his word against me. No one would believe me. Now I know how Jay feels. This has to be the crappiest situation I’ve ever been in.

I shut my door and listen to the recording again. I squeeze my eyes shut. This cannot be happening to me. Of all people.

I mean my life was perfect and normal as you can get. I’d play with Jay, read, watch TV, get on the internet, and once a month we’d go to the store and get groceries. But then my dad had to ruin it by telling us that we were Type Ones. And now this.

That’s when I feel it. Tears are pouring down my face. I realized that I’m not mad but sad. I’m downright depressed about all of this.

I don’t stop the tears from flowing. I roll over onto my side and think about my life.

After about 15 minutes I sit up and wipe away the traces of tears from my face. I go to the bathroom and clean up.

I have to act like I don’t know anything until I find out more. I look at myself in the mirror and see not someone who’s sad but someone who’s determined to protect his sister.

 

A man named Josh Powell from Washington State just killed his two kids today.

 

He also killed himself.

 

It looks pretty obvious that he killed his wife in 2009 and even though her body's never been found and he wasn't charged with her murder his sons had been saying things that certainly made it look like he murdered his wife.

 

I've been married before and I'll tell you that it's no news to anyone who's ever been married that things can get pretty heated and downright psycho.

 

More and more as I experience the good and the bad on the journey that is life I've learned one thing. A couple actually...

 

but one lesson really stands out to me.

 

Most of the pain and suffering that people bring to each other in this world is the product of selfishness.

 

Josh Powell was a very selfish man.

 

He killed his wife.

 

No one knows exactly why he did because Josh Powell is dead.

 

But if I had to make a bet...

 

I'd bet it was for very selfish reasons.

 

Selfishness, like any human behavior exists on a continuum.

 

Let's say from one to a hundred.

 

Everyone's selfish to an extent.

 

Maybe a twenty on the scale of one to a hundred is average.

 

Josh Powell might have been 'a hundred and twenty.'

 

I've got a hypothesis.

 

It's pretty simple.

 

The more selfish someone is on that continuum the more likely that they are to hurt other people.

 

The higher their 'selfishness' score... the more that they just don't consider other people, where they are coming from or what they deserve.

 

Selfish people don't have much of a concept of 'fairness.'

 

At some point on that continuum the 'selfish person' stops being considerate of other people at all.

 

Certainly Josh Powell was past that point on the scale.

 

The man killed his own children.

 

After he'd taken their mother from them.

 

Time and time again I've tried to understand such selfish and harmful behavior and tried to glean some insight into what makes some people capable of doing things that the rational among us cannot even begin to fathom.

 

Selfish people can't accept not getting their own way.

 

To a truly selfish person, not getting their way is as inconceivable to them as what Josh Powell did to his own children today is to most of us.

 

People hurt each other for lots of reasons.

 

Sometimes in a moment of passion someone is so filled with anger or rage that they just snap.

 

It can happen to anyone.

 

Even moments later they might realize that what they've just done really crossed the line.

 

Think of someone walking in on their spouse 'In flagrante delicto' with another lover.

 

A person's reaction to that situation, no matter how extreme, isn't too hard to wrap your head around.

 

Even the 'inexcusable' can still to the rational mind be 'understandable.'

 

Josh Powell might have feared that the authorities were getting closer to charging him with his wife's murder.

 

His sons were talking.

 

People, as jaded as we've become in our society by this point wouldn't have been too shocked if Josh killed himself.

 

It would have been his last and final selfish act.

 

Trying to get out of taking responsibility for his actions.

 

But Josh Powell was posessed of a selfishness of a different sort.

 

The guy took his kids with him.

 

He murdered his own two sons in a fiery apocolypse that he'd apparently planned for some time.

 

Whatever went down in his home today the rational mind will never comprehend.

 

I'm sure of that.

 

I am sure that his actions could be classified as 'extremely selfish' though.

 

Probably psychotic too but I'm not qualified to assess that.

 

I try to apply this thinking that I do to my life.

 

When I see people engaging in really selfish actions, no matter where on the continuum they should fall...

 

I pay attention.

 

If they're consistent in their selfish actions I try to stay away from them.

 

They're the ones in my experience who hurt other people.

 

And I'd rather not be one of their victims.

 

Anyone and everyone is capable of a little selfishness every once in a while.

 

Sometimes it's not even apparent to us as we're doing it.

 

But when you observe someone acting selfishly again and again you're a whole bunch better off just to get out of their way...

 

to get as far away from them as you possibly can.

 

I've started to use the 'selfish assessment' as one of my primary tools in navigating life socially.

 

I'll tell you what:

 

it works.

 

I think selfishness is a common denominator in just about every crime imaginable...

 

from theft to murder.

 

I'm open to discussion on the matter...

 

but I'm really at a point in my life where I'm pretty set in my understanding of this concept.

 

I've been applying this lesson to life for some time and I'm pretty pleased with the results.

 

Be careful out there.

 

It's a crazy world.

 

But I've got this one piece of advice for you:

 

stay away from seflish people and you'll cut down your risk of getting hurt exponentially.

 

To Josh Powell I say this:

 

I hope you wore your asbestos underwear asshole...

 

because right now I figure you're burnin' off your tender bits in hell.

 

With all of the other selfish people like you.

 

Infinity isn't a long enough sentence for a guy like you.

 

I gotta feelin' you ain't never gonna feel that burnin' stop you scumbag.

 

My prayers go out to those children and their mother.

 

I hope you've found peace in a different place.

      

We arrived at Manzhoulli late in the day.

 

We had travelled the last miles of China through the night.

 

The train crossed the border to the Russian side and was pulled into a large shed where I recall it took almost eight hours to lift each car off of the wheels that had carried us from China and place the cars on bogies that would fit the width of the rails in Russia.

 

The place had the feel of a frontier town.

 

Aside from the endless grasslands that spanned from horizon to horizon on the way in to the town itself...it had that gritty, dusty, shitty feel of someplace that existed only because of some circumstance that mandated its existence.

 

I got the feeling that Manzhoulli was the place that they threatened to send misbehaving Siberians to.

 

You'd know you pissed someone off bigtime if you got stationed here.

 

Tumbleweeds wouldn't have been out of place blowing across the road in Manzhoulli.

 

Inside the station was a restaurant where the smugglers who I shared a cabin with treated me to the first real western meal I had eaten in so many months.

 

Beef stroganoff... sweet delight.

 

The creamy stroganoff and the wide noodles were like a beautiful angel dancing a dance of joy on my vagabond tongue.

 

A culinary massage to my homesick taste buds...except for the fact that the heavy metal silverware... something I had not used in many months... it really imparted a sharp metallic taste in my mouth.

 

I finished off the extraordinary meal with chopsticks I had retrieved from my bag...

 

the ones Masami gave to me in Osaka Japan.

 

That I missed Masami I already knew...

 

but eating the stroganoff there in Manzhoulli with the chopsticks she had given me...

 

I felt guilty that I had not been able to give her a proper goodbye.

 

She really deserved it.

 

The woman was never anything but good to me.

 

She always gave more than she took and it always made me want to give her back all I could.

 

I had planned to travel with her during my last week in Japan and talk about the future.

 

When I left the university and had my student visa pulled I wasn't given very much time to get my affairs in order.

 

I wasn't even given twenty four hours to leave.

 

The officials pretty much wanted me at the airport immediately.

 

But I had different plans.

 

I slipped away quietly and told no one.

 

There was no way I was going to tell my parents I had 'left' school and that I needed money for a plane ticket right away.

 

Really that I was expelled.

 

From school and the country.

 

I spent most of the next day coming up with a plan to have my roommate forward my parent's mail to me and from me while I hung out in Australia for the rest of the semester that I was supposed to be a student in Japan.

 

And I didn't feel like seeing the officials change their mind about letting me go.

 

That's why I slept under the bridge in Kyoto that last night and hightailed it out of the port at Osaka on a ship to Shanghai first thing in the morning.

 

But that was all a thousand miles behind me now.

 

I had made it this far...

 

why look back?

 

The only regrets I had were that a wonderful woman and I parted ways with a phone call.

 

Now I stood at the doorstep of the hyphenated land of Eur-Asia... and if it didn't have a hyphen it was at least a hybrid land.

 

It was a middle ground between two worlds.

 

If I looked behind me towards China I was looking at Asia.

 

In front of me stood Eur-Asia.

 

I felt so ready to make passage there.

 

Thoughts about that fight that got me kicked out of Japan entered my head right then.

 

It's kind of what got me here.

 

I had to laugh when I recalled running into the guy's accomplice in Beijing.

 

Actually I didn't run into him at all.

 

I was riding the bus when I saw that motherfucker standing on the sidewalk looking like a lost dog.

 

I jumped off the bus at the next stop and followed him.

 

It was Elan.

 

I was sure of it.

 

The coincidence was unbelievable.

 

He never saw me and I followed him for quite awhile.

 

Only an idiot couldn't tell he was being tailed by a westerner in China.

 

For one... I didn't have black hair and secondly... I was about a foot taller than everyone else.

 

Elan was that idiot.

 

Before long I found out where he was staying.

 

There was a tiny cafe right there... I think it was called 'The Pink House.'

 

I sat there and drank a beer or two and tried to figure out the best way to nail the guy.

 

That prick was gonna get a smackdown.

 

In a lot of ways it wasn't even my battle or my anger that made me want to do it.

 

It was what he and his buddy did to my friend Joel.

 

The guy who was there for me at the Pig & The Whistle when I was pushed into the backroom with the sharp edge of a Yakuza's knife pushing into my throat.

 

We took turns saving each others asses there it seemed.

 

Not only did Joel extricate me from a situation where a very sharp knife was pressed into my jugular...

 

he had the steadiness and presence of mind to grab my passport off of the table after he pushed those guys off of me.

 

He surprised the fuck out of them.

 

I didn't know a whole lot of Japanese at the time.

 

Certainly not enough to beg for my life.

 

But that shit was serious.

 

When the guy with a blade pressed into your throat tells his buddy to go and find a mop...

 

well... I'm pretty sure that shit's serious.

 

I felt bad that my mom would be getting a call from some low level State Department official asking where she wanted my body shipped to.

 

Because I got killed in some dive bar in Japan.

 

I couldn't even move the way that guy had that knife on me.

 

I've never felt so powerless.

 

I knew from the way that he'd handled the situation that it wasn't the first time he'd cut someone's throat.

 

That I got out of that one with my life was just another blessing.

 

That Joel grabbed my passport was quite a pleasant bonus.

 

We ran from there out a fire exit... down the fire escape... laughing so hard we could barely keep running.

 

It was my closest call.

 

I always got on Joel's case about not grabbing my thirty thousand yen off that table too.

 

Dude saved my life, grabbed my passport off the table... but he left my thirty grand in yen right there.

 

Whenever I brought that up Joel would double think clinking my glass in the toast we would inevitably be about to make and then give me a dumb look.

 

He hated when I bugged him about not picking up that thirty thoudsand yen.

 

But I saved his ass a time or two in repayment.

 

What those guys did to Joel was something so cruel and inhuman that I suppose it would be traumatic for us both if I accurately painted that moment here in words.

 

There aren't many experiences in my life I'd prefer not to talk about but what they did to him that night is definitely one of them.

 

Suffice it to say that my plan to kill Elan was not hatched so much in anger or revenge.

 

It was just that I supposed... no I knew... that the world and all of humanity would be a better place without scum like him intertwining paths with us.

 

We'd all be better off without him.

 

It was only weeks ago that I fought with his buddy in that hallway... slipping in his blood all over the ceramic tile in my bare feet after I'd stabbed him with that Asahi bottle.

 

I'll never forget the surprised look on his face when I plunged the jagged glass beer bottle right into his gut so hard you could hear the glass crunch off of it.

 

You can't imagine how slippery blood is until you're trying to kill someone in a puddle of it in your bare feet.

 

And you can't imagine the bizarre feeling of 'waking up' with your hands around a masked intruder while you're punching 'the mask' in the face.

 

To go from a deep sleep to killin' a guy in less than a minute is a pretty disturbing experience I'd wish on no one.

 

It kinda felt like a bad dream.

 

Confused the hell out of me really.

 

When you wake up tryin' to kill someone you go through this phase where you ask yourself 'what the fuck is going on and why am I trying to kill this guy?'

 

But then you come to your senses when you realize that you were just woken up in your bed and the asshole in the mask is obviously up to no good and you gotta believe that whatever reason you've all the sudden got for killin' the guy is a good reason.

 

I don't think I slept too well for a few years after that.

 

And now I just happen to run into the guy's partner on the street in China.

 

Obviously there was some unfinished business that had to be taken care of.

 

I wanted to be sure that as Elan started his walk on the path to hell that he knew... that he was absolutely certain that it was me that helped him take the first step.

 

I wanted to remind him to 'say hello to Satan for me.'

 

I wanted that prick to see me laughing over him as he drew his last breath.

 

I know that the university officials and even the police quietly agreed with me tryin' to kill his partner back in Japan.

 

That's why I wasn't sitting in jail right now in Osaka.

 

They saw the honor in what I did that night.

 

When the police arrived on the scene there was so much blood on the floor that someone said that their first question was 'where is the body.'

 

There was so much blood on the floor and the walls that they didn't think anyone could have survived that.

 

Man it was a bloody scene.

 

I remember almost laughing as we fought there in that darkened hallway in Osaka... slipping in the blood in our bare feet... slicker than oil on polished marble I'll tell you.

 

It was almost funny... like jello wrestling or something.

 

One guy trying to kill... one guy really trying to avoid being killed.

 

And both of them slipping and sliding in all of that blood... it's probably what saved us both.

 

That neither one of us could throw or land a good punch or jab on the slickened slip and slide of warm blood on the hallway floor there.

 

Now I had my eyes on Elan.

 

The score had to be settled... the karmic books balanced.

 

Each evening Elan would ride his rented bicycle past the cafe just after seven.

 

On the night my train was to leave for Russia at a little after eight in the evening, Elan was going to be riding straight into the biggest smackdown of his life.

 

The last smackdown of his life if I had my way.

 

I had a feeling that destiny, after all, was on my side.

 

The guy really deserved what was coming.

 

I had never planned such a thing before.

 

The fight in Osaka was a moment of passion... there was no planning that kind of thing.

 

It was different.

 

I never asked for it and it happened and I dealt with it.

 

I did what I had to do and I'd do the same thing all over again given the same situation.

 

Planning this was different though.

 

I think everyone should plan at least one really good assassination in their lives.

 

You learn a lot about yourself.

 

It's really a giant exercise in looking within the human being that you are.

 

You get to see a part of yourself you pretty much never knew existed.

 

A part of you that under normal circumstances you would never be acquainted with...

 

and although it's frightening it's amazingly self intimate.

 

You'll walk away knowing a lot more about yourself that's for sure.

 

That was the plan... to kill Elan at the Pink House... finish the last sips of my beer... leave a really nice tip...

 

because I think it would be important to leave a really nice tip if you leave a body for someone to cleanup.

 

And then walk to the train station where I would in minutes be on my way to the Russian border.

 

No one would have even stopped me.

 

I imagined they'd just stare at his body while I walked away.

 

That night I sat at the table... I was remarkably calm for what I was about to do... I remember that most of all.

 

My mind was easy.

 

My senses were all heightened no doubt.

 

There was no nervousness though... not even jitters which suprised me... maybe because I had gone over it again and again in my head.

 

I enjoyed the sounds of the capitol city and the Tsing Tao beer I was drinking.

 

The sun was about to set... lighting up the polluted Beijing sky in that thick orange way...

 

and I watched for the first sign of Elan riding his bicycle towards me.

 

This time I wouldn't fail.

 

Elan was about to go down... the hard way.

 

"Meetchermakermotherfucker!"

 

Unfortunately at the moment, and fortunately as the wisdom of time has crept by, that asshole never showed up to get his punishment at the Pink House Cafe.

 

I never got a chance to send his ass straight to hell.

 

But God knows I wanted to.

 

With the benefit of eighteen years having passed by I can honestly say that it is a blessing and a miracle that on that night, Elan never rode his bicycle by the table where I sat at the Pink House Cafe.

 

Whichever way he turned in life that day... it was definitely the right way.

 

I know that if he did ride by that cafe, two lives at least would have turned out differently.

 

Forever and permanently altered.

 

We both lucked out it seemed.

 

It turned into just another thing to put behind me.

 

That and a lot of miles.

 

After that meal at the Manzhoulli station...

 

which seemed to have been offered to me only so that the smugglers could keep their eyes on me and protect their mysterious 'stash'...

 

I sat out in front of the station with Sergei and he and I shot the shit.

 

Sergei the 'just bribed border official.'

 

Who took long draws on his harsh smelling Russian cigarette and shot meaningful questions at me about life in America and the nature of the relationship between our countries in between hits.

 

I couldn't tell if he was sizing me up for something... paying a little extra special attention.

 

'Givin' me a little scrutin'" as we say in the Windy City.

 

Sergei and I both agreed that it was all bullshit the way our nations behaved towards each other's and we concluded that he and I were just like each other...

 

that we really just wanted to live our lives and dream our dreams and not worry about one nation or the other nuking us and our families out of existence.

 

It's funny how two regular guys can come together and solve the world's problems.

 

Sergei never mentioned at all the bribe or inquired about what it was paid to protect.

 

It was a done deal.

 

Finished business.

 

It seemed to me after a while to be 'the Russian Way.'

 

Almost like it really would have been rude of him to actually ask what it was he just took a bribe to allow into his country.

 

This building in the frontier town of Manzhoulli at the Chinese border just miles east of Mongolia was the place that welcomed me to what was then the Soviet Union...

 

supposedly as Ronald Reagan called it... a part of the 'Evil Empire.'

 

I don't know much about the empire... but the people I met there were some of the kindest most wonderful and warm people on the planet.

 

No wrong or harm was ever done to me in my travels there.

 

The service sucked... but that my friend is what the Russia of 1990 was all about.

 

A crumbling empire and a people who smelled opportunity and change on the wind.

 

You could see it.

 

You could feel it.

 

You could smell it.

 

And the stroganoff... that stroganoff was my culinary welcome back into the western world.

 

It was the first taste of home in so long.

 

That stroganoff... it was the strong and hearty embrace of a wonderful friend I had not seen in the longest time.

 

That stroganoff was a milestone... the stroganoff was a sign that I had made it... halfway.

 

Halfway around the world.

 

It seemed like Manzhouli was that place... the place where I went from each step taking me a step further away from home to each step taking me a step closer to home.

 

That stroganoff was indeed the epicurean point where I'd felt like I was just a bit closer to home too.

 

The place youth made me run from, a newly earned maturity made me miss... the place my stomach missed the most.

 

Manzhoulli's stroganoff... that was the most memorable meal I swear I'll have ever had the pleasure to eat.

 

The sweet cream settled into my stomach like a warm velveteen ball of lead.

 

My digestive system was no longer used to its dreamy lactose heaviness.

 

How many months had it been since I had even had a glass of milk?

 

Asians didn't seem to have much love for the bovine delicacies... I had missed the milk... the cream in dishes like the stroganoff... and especially cheese.

 

I don't think I ever saw cheese in China... I bought some once in Japan to make a cheeseburger with.

 

I think I dreamed of cheese a couple of times.

 

The Japanese told me that they had a nickname for people like me...

 

they called us the "butter people" or often "the big nosed butter people."

 

They say that to them... westerners smell like butter.

 

It is because of the amount of dairy that we east supposedly.

 

It oozes from all of our pores and it's carried on our breath.

 

I know it to be true because after some months of living among "the fish people" as I thought of them... for the same reasons they called me one of the "butter people"...

 

I noticed that If there was a fresh westerner on a subway car... I got all hungry and reminiscent of the delicacies of dairy that were celebrated daily in my homeland.

 

I couldn't wait to hit Paris and score myself a backpack full of cheese.

Two weeks since we lost our costumes. I've been outside, but I feel like I haven't seen the sun in days. We still go to school, but everything from the night before pretty much drains us. Study hall is the only time we get to catch up on sleep. And when the final bell rings, we don't get some spare time, or see our friends. We just head straight back to the cave for more of Bruce's training...or torture. Tim told me once that his training to become Robin was pretty nasty. I asked him about it again, and he said this was far worse. Everything is sore, I'm always tired, and I'm starting to wonder if this is even worth it anymore. Some of the stuff Bruce has us doing could easily kill us, like the rock pillar hoping he's making us do right now. The worst thing for me, though? I haven't seen Jackie at all these past two weeks. Bruce said he'd handle him, but...what? What's he doing with him? Why can't we just see him? Is he even okay? I gotta know... luckily the end is right there. I can stop looking down, finally. Never liked heights, ironically... wait, what's that noise? Who's coughing?

 

"Tim!!"

 

"*coughcough*...I'm alright...I can...*cough*"

 

"Aw, Tim...Just relax, you're too exhausted..."

 

"Something wrong here?"

 

"Bruce? Where did you?...can we take a break or something? Tim can hardly stand. And I'm really sore..."

 

"Is this too hard for you? Can't take a little work? Get up and keep going. You've got 20 minutes left."

 

"Bruce, this is insane! Tim can hardly breathe he's so overworked! And where's Jackie? I wanna see him..."

 

"This is insane? Do you know how the Spartans trained their soldiers?"

 

"N-no..."

 

"They started training much younger than you. 7-9 years old. Trained to be efficient war machines from then on. One "exercise" of endurance involved taking two trainees and tying them to pillars. A trainer would whip both of them until one passed out from the pain, while family members watched, yelling at them to stay conscious. Wanna know what the loser received?"

 

"Bruce..."

 

"Fine. You both get an hour. Make it count."

 

"Thank you..."

 

"And Steph, stop worrying about Jackie. I can assure you he's fine with me..."

Paul Weisel

10h ·

In May of 2018 I was headed west for my annual visit with Don Edmunds, but took a few side trips before showing up in Oregon. After stopping at the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame in Knoxville, IA to deliver a supply of Don Edmunds' books, I veered north to I-90 and my first visit to Mount Rushmore. An early Friday morning arrival made a stop at the speedway in Sheridan, WY an easy addition to my route. On Saturday I said a final goodbye to Rocky Mountain Raceway in Salt Lake City and chalked up both their figure 8 course and the infield course used by their 4-cylinder division. As I cruised across Nevada, a Sunday afternoon event at the Winnemucca Regional Raceway was the cherry on top of four new tracks in the western states.

Monday was spent chasing vintage sprint car tires for our low-bar Edmunds sprinter project around the Ukiah, CA area and the slow day allowed me catch my breath for a first ever visit to San Francisco. On Tuesday morning I headed south on CA-101 to cross the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco. 'Why in the world would you want to drive into San Francisco?' you ask. There's only one reason – Norm Rapp. Norm was 91 years young, a midget racer of note, a multi-time winner indoors at the Oakland Coliseum, a purveyor of race car parts for at least the past 60 plus years, and a recent inductee into the National Midget Hall of Fame. Norm has been instrumental in finding parts for several of our midget restorations, I've spoken to him numerous times on the phone, but we'd never met! Upon my arrival at 5 Cordova Street, Norm Rapp Racing's World Headquarters, Norm jumped into my van and we went for breakfast at the Bayside Cafe, where it appeared Norm was revered as their favorite patron. Great view of the bay and I was able to cruise past the Cow Palace on the way back to Norm Rapp Racing. After an afternoon of spending money with Norm (he even had a used Goodyear pavement sprint car right rear tire), I headed north, hoping to escape the San Francisco traffic mess before things really got sporty at rush hour.

Unfortunately, Norm left us on December 28, 2019 at age 92 and I will be eternally grateful I took the time to visit with him at his place of business and spend some quality time with a true icon of the sport of midget racing. When the phone rang at Norm's business, a former grocery store on Cordova Street where Norm ran his business since 1961, you never had to wonder if Norm was 'in'. If the guy on the other end of the phone answered with, 'Zoom, zoom!', you were talking to Norm.

We both sold Firestone tires, so we always had something in common and we'd talk once, maybe twice, a year – always phone time well spent. When I needed a Casale rear end for the restoration of Don Edmunds' personal Kurtis-Kraft, I called Norm. Shockingly, he said he had two! He asked if I was familiar with the term 'butted' (indoor racers in particular often shortened the rear axles of their cars – narrow holes, narrow cars) and I replied, 'Yes, it means I want to hear about rear end #2.' The second rear was built in October, 1947 and was perfect for a midget built by Kurtis in 1948. Always the kidder, Norm added, 'I hear you drove race cars back east, so I'd better shim the ring and pinion and put it together for you before we ship it. Edmunds always said, 'Race drivers have to be smart enough to operate a race car ---- and just dumb enough to climb in it.' So, I took Norm up on his gracious offer and the rear arrived in two pieces. All I had to do was to was put the axle and ring gear into the rear and tighten the side plates. Everything was shimmed to perfection. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to impress my good pal, Ronnie Dunstan, I told him I had just assembled this Casale rear (and I had) and asked if he'd stop by to check the lash and see if everything was OK. Dunstan was impressed when he worked the axle back and forth – the rear was right and tight! If he's been walking around the last few years thinking I might have some mechanical ability – good! Norm even had a laugh when I told him about it.

A few days ago I read an interview with Norm by Saroyan Humphrey for Rust Magazine and Rust Media and thought it was the perfect insight to Norm Rapp. Photos included from the article are identified and I'd like to find a few more articles and interviews from these folks.

Rust Magazine, Q&A w. Norm 'Zoom Zoom' Rapp, 91 year-old racer and businessman remembers driving, wrenching with George Bignotti, and growing up in San Francisco.

TEXT – PHOTOS SAROYAN HUMPHREY

Feature: Norm Rapp has been inactive as a midget driver since 1967, but has owned and managed his racing supply business since he started it from the basement of his house in 1953. Until recently he was still selling vintage midget and sprint car parts, including tires and wheels. Along with parts, Rapp also supplied Northern California speedways with racing fuel for decades.

Norm was born in 1927 in San Francisco and was raised across the street from what would become his current race shop. Rapp's father, Gene, was also involved in automobiles, mechanics and racing. Several years before Norm was born, Gene raced a big car – a flathead 'T' – at San Jose and San Luis Obispo. He found success, winning a main event that summer at the .625-mile San Jose Fairgrounds track, but a crash, where he was knocked unconscious for over a week, ended his career in 1923. Still, it didn't end his enthusiasm for racing and the automobile, as he continued to attend races in the Bay Area with his infant son, Norm, in tow. In 1936 the elder Rapp also opened a Nash dealership in San Francisco's Mission District, a place Norm would work as a mechanic a few years later.

After World War II, as midget racing continued to grow in popularity across the United States, Norm began driving a Drake (Harley Davidson-powered) midget in training races in 1948 at the long-gone Bayshore Stadium in South San Francisco. In ’49, Rapp competed in his first full season of professional competition, and by ’51, the driver won his first main event at a quarter-mile dirt track in Marysville, Calif. Norm continued to hone his driving skills and would eventually win 40 main events—on both dirt and pavement—during his driving career. Competing with the BCRA (Bay Cities Racing Association) mostly, Norm also raced at special events across the West Coast and Midwest, often traveling with his father.

In commemoration of his lasting racing career, Norm has been inducted into six halls of fame. From the National Midget Hall of Fame, to Balboa High School in San Francisco, where he shares the honor with George Bignotti, another San Franciscan who graduated from the same school a few years earlier. Besides being neighbors, Bignotti and Rapp became racing comrades, competing in BCRA events early in their careers. Rapp was also part of Bignotti's Indy team in 1956 and helped build the '57 Bowes Seal Fast Specials that went on to finish sixth and 22nd with drivers Johnny Boyd and Fred Agabashian.

Laid-back and still a big kid at heart, Rapp spent a few hours talking about his career and his life as a racer/businessman.

You're one of the few lifetime honorary members of the BCRA. Rapp: Yeah, there's only about six of us. It's quite an honor. There's Johnny Boyd, Fred Agabashian, Boots Archer, Johnny Soares, Sr., and also Floyd Busby. He's the present scorer. Years ago, his father was the scorer when I first started in 1947.

And you were inducted to the National Midget Hall of Fame. Rapp: Yeah, three years ago. They inducted eight of us altogether that day. It was an enjoyable situation. Bobby Unser was there. It was a great day. It was something that I'll always remember. That's my biggest highlight. I'm in there with names like A.J. Foyt, Tony Stewart and all the rest of 'em.

Is being inducted to the halls of fame the best part of getting older? Rapp: Well, yeah; I gotta say, aging is not for sissies.

You were born and grew up here in San Francisco. Rapp: Yeah, in Crocker-Amazon, right next to the Excelsior District, off of Geneva Avenue.

And your dad was a racer? Rapp: Yeah, I'd been going to the races since I was two years old. Before I was born, he was racing. In those days they called them big cars, where now you call 'em sprint cars. He just raced for a couple of years and then he got hurt really bad at San Jose Fairgrounds in 1923. So, when he recuperated from the skull fracture, my mother, who then was his girlfriend, sail, “Well, Gene, you have to make the decision, racing, or me....” So he raced once more after that and then retired from racing, but we went to the races to watch and I always begged him to go in the pits and look at the race cars after the race.

In those days racing was so much more dangerous. Rapp: In 1923 they killed six guys at the track (San Jose) in one season. There's a story about how my dad was in the hospital and there was a memorial race for a close friend of his and he came out to the track with a bandaged head and was part of the ceremony.

What other local tracks do you remember going to? Rapp: We used to go to San Francisco Motordrome, which was down on Army Street. I was a young kid, before World War II, I went to Alameda (Neptune Speedway). He took me over there a few times. In those days, you had to take a ferry boat to go across the bay. There was no Bay Bridge (laughing). And there was a mile track over there on Hesperian Boulevard (Oakland Speedway) in Hayward. It was well-known in those days, before World War II. And then during the war, somebody lit the grandstand on fire, or something, and the property became valuable.

You raced a soap-box derby car when you were a kid. What do you remember about that? Rapp: When I was 11 and 12 years old. That's what I called the start of my career. In my day we didn't have any go-karts, quarter midgets, and things like that. There just the full midget. I raced at Treasure Island (during the World Exposition) in 1940. Chevrolet built this ramp about 75 feet high and you'd tow the car up the ramp. I was fine going down the hill, but when I hit the flat, I didn't have the weight to carry me and so, I lost the heat race by a couple of inches.

Your dad also had a Nash dealership, right? Rapp: Right, from 1936 to 1946. It was between 18th and 19th on Valencia (Street), 740 Valencia. He had a shop as well as sales for the cars. In 1937, he sold 97 Nashes. That was a real good year for Nash. I had a '37 Nash. That was my first car!

Did you work in the shop? Rapp: When I was 14 or 15 years old, after the soap-box derbies. I was working for him, yeah. It was a small business and I was doing the parts work, as well as the lubrication. We had a rack there that we'd put car up on.

You joined the Army Air Corps after high school, right? Rapp: Yeah, when I graduated (in 1944) everybody was patriotic, much more than anytime in my life. So everybody enlisted in one form of service or another. I chose the Army Air Corps because I wanted to fly and the Army was a little easier to get into that the Navy. So, I went down to Market Street and signed up. It took 110 points to go to officer training and I got 125. Since I was still 17 years old, they didn't want to send me to an army specialized training program, so they sent me to Stanford (University) for two terms. After that I went to Biloxi, Miss. To Kessler Field and then to Lowry Field and Buckley Field in Denver, That's how I spent my 28 months total.

What do you remember about living in San Francisco during that time, after Pearl Harbor? Rapp: Neighborhoods were blacked out and the San Francisco Seals used to play baseball only in day games. Everybody had black curtains on their windows; everything was blacked out. We had wardens also, and every block was checked to make sure the windows were sealed. There are still bulkheads out here close to the hospital (points west toward the Pacific Ocean).

How did you get your start driving midgets? Rapp: After I got out of the Army Air Corps, a friend of my dad's got me a job at Pan American Airways (as a mechanic) and one of the mechanics there owned a Drake midget. His name was Larry Christensen and he had Lyle Johnson and some other prominent guys driving for him. He won a feature in '46 or '47. He lived nearby. We got to be good friends and I went to his shop every night, almost, and helped him work on the Drake and in the pits. (George) Bignotti's shop was about a half mile away, too.

I bought a Drake midget in '48 and I had Earl Motter, Dick Strickland, all prominent veteran drivers, drive the car. The way I did it was I let those prominent guys run the car in the program and usually they would have warm-ups and I'd go out and run the first warm-up and they'd run the second warm-up and qualify and race the car. In the middle of the program, they'd have training races and I ran those. I ran 20 training races. In '49, when I first started driving, I turned 10th fastest at Bayshore Stadium and made the main event. After that, I progressed over the years.

I was really hot for the Drake engine and it was the main event winner at different times with Jerry Piper and Bob Barkhimer. It was a Drake engine like Billy Vukovich, Sr. always ran. It accelerated really good. It could beat the Ford V8-60s and it was a cheaper car.

Where was the Bayshore Stadium? Rapp: There used to be a track right next to the Cow Palace that was built in 1934 by some gamblers from Chicago. People don't know about it anymore. The story there is that these gamblers came out here and were going to run greyhound races. So they established this track next to the Cow Palace as well as the one down in Belmont and another across the bay. They had four of them and then (the State of) California says, “We don't want dog racing” for humane reasons. So there was a quarter mile dirt track and along comes December 7th (1941), and the government took over the Cow Palace and all the surrounding area, including the race track, and put all their tanks and trucks and everything else in there. Then after the war, all the vehicles disappeared and left the track. So, in 1946 BCRA came in and ran programs there until 1950, every Friday night. It was called Bayshore Stadium and it had a covered grandstand.

And you expanded your mechanical knowledge at Pan American? Rapp: I worked at Pan American for 10 years altogether, in different shops. I first started out in the wheel and tire shop. Then I was in engine buildup for three years. We'd put the engine on a test stand before they put it in the aircraft. And then I had a chance to go to the parts department, which I enjoyed quite a bit. I spent six years there.

How did you meet George Bignotti? Rapp: George was running the BCRA circuit in 1947, and when I started going to the races with Larry Christensen, I met George. He had a shop at Geneva and Mission and he ran two midgets with Fred Agabashian and Ed Normi driving, running seven days a week (laughs). BCRA was running eight days a week back then (big grin).

Do you remember your first man event victory? Rapp: Yeah, it was at Marysville in 1950. It was a different track than the one that we see now. It was a quarter mile. I started outside front row and Jerry Hill was on the pole. It was a hard, dry track, and there were a lot of prominent drivers there like (Johnny) Boyd, (Johnny) Baldwin and Edgar Elder. Edgar had fast time in a Drake. So, I got a jump on Jerry on the start and I held the lead for 25 laps and won it. Elder had fast time and he was tangling with Boyd and Baldwin and it hit one of 'em and ended up going out through the open pit gate and he just drove right up onto his trailer. He was a great guy.

Was your dad a part of your racing? Rapp: He followed me, but didn't help me. Then after about a year, he said, “I see you're serious, and I'm going to see about buying this Kurtis Ford.” Johnny Smith had driven it to sixth place in (BCRA) point stands the year before in 1947. It was a one year-old car, a Kurtis V8-60, with a spare engine and everything else for $2,000. So he bought it and I sold the Drake. I ran the Ford for three years and I kept paying him off and I owned the car when we got done. That was #16. It was really a good way for me to get started.

You traveled to the Midwest to race in '52. You must've been feeling confident with your driving and equipment. Rapp: I hadn't been driving for very long. The story there is, I was kinda depressed because my grandmother, who used to live with us, died. She had taken care of my brother and me when we were young kids, when my mother and father were running the auto shop. It was tough times. And my girlfriend, who later became my wife (Dorothea), decided she didn't want to see me anymore. So I was kinda depressed. I thought, “Heck with it. I'd just like to go the the Midwest and race.” I went by myself, Bignotti tuned my V8-60 and it was outstanding. I didn't have a spare engine, just some extra tires and wheels. But the good thing about the Midwest was that it taught me a lot. I really had to get down to the nitty fritty and learn how to race against those guys and I was running different tracks all the time. Day race, night race......

Midget racing was a big deal at that time. Rapp: It was pretty big, but in '52 back out here, it tapered off a lot. NASCAR came in and Barkhimer was running a lot of (stock car) races at San Jose Speedway and he had a whole bunch of tracks that he was supervising...

Did you like the pavement, or dirt? Rapp: When I first started out, I liked the dirt. You got it sideways, but sometimes I got in trouble, too. But after about 1953, I started learning how to drive better on pavement and be smooth. I got to be quite accomplished. I got second to Parnell Jones at San Jose Speedway in '64, and I'd win a feature here and there. Then I had a good Offy and we really made it perform. For six nights in a row, I had fast time at three different tracks. Two at San Jose, two at Kearney Bowl in Fresno, and two at Stockton. I think I won one, got four seconds and a third. In those days we'd start 18 (in the main event), so, I was coming from last.

The car was #10 and that's why #10 is my favorite number now. It set a mark for me. I put #10 on my recently restored Offy. It was red and yellow. The current car is the same paint job, more or less. It's in my store, ready to run. It's worth 35 grand. It's a Jimmy Davies car. He only built six cars; mine and one in Chicago are the only ones that I know of. It's a historic car. It was just a bunch of parts when I got it, and I put it together gradually over five years. I put a lot of new parts into it, torsion bars and everything else.

You must've had some close calls in your driving days. Rapp: I only spent one night in the hospital. I flipped three and a half times at Sacramento (West Capital Raceway) on the half mile in 1955. I hit a rut. I woke up in the ambulance with my dad. I felt that flip for six months, in different ways. In those days, we didn't have a shoulder harness, we just ran the lap belt and it held me in. In fact, the car was upside down and Walt Faulkner was running fast time in an Offy and he had the high groove and he hit my tail right next to my head in the turn and moved the car a couple feet. It just wasn't my time to go (laughs).....a lot of guys got killed at Capital Speedway.

You weren't spooked? Rapp: No, I was ready to go again. But I remember one guy who crashed at Bayshore Stadium, he hit the light pole outside the track and he never showed up again. In that era, right after World War II, Bay Cities used to lose about two guys a season, plus injuries....Yeah, it was tough, really tough. You had to watch what you were doing.

Tell me about the leather face masks that you developed as a safety device in the 1950s. Rapp: Speedway Motors used to buy 100 at a time. I must've sold four or five hundred. When I first started out, guys used to put a bandana around their neck, but that wouldn't help with the dirt and the rocks. You'd get hit. At first I made my own and developed it from there. There was a lady who was a seamstress at Pan American Airways and she helped.

I made a lot of different models before I produced the one that you see now. For different reasons it had to be improved. I had a company on 9th Street in San Francisco that was a leather company and I had them make 'em for me. They made some dies and they'd punch out the product with the die and sew 'em together per my instructions. It was a beautiful piece. I've seen used ones sell for $150 today (laughs).

You worked for Bignotti in '56 and '57. What do you remember from that time? Rapp: Oh, it was a real exciting experience. I had been to the (Indianapolis Motor) Speedway before it 1949 as a spectator. (In 1957) I was working for the Bowes Seal Fast Specials that Bignotti and Bob Bowes were partners in. I was a mechanic, doing everything. In the first day (of qualifying) Fred (Agabashian) was fourth fastest; (Johnny) Boyd was fifth fastest. They started side by side in the second row. Agabashian might have won the '500', but the fuel tank split. In those days we didn't have bladders and the tank wore and cracked. Agabashian was a really shrewd, great driver. He never acquired the achievements that he could've.

Bignotti was a good friend. I was helping him put the cars together in San Francisco. I was getting parts from Pan American. Pan American was a sponsor, but they didn't know it (laughs). Bolts and nuts, whatever we needed for the Indy cars. Bowes got the cars from Kurtis (-Kraft) and we modified them. That was a good deal. They were beautiful cars for those days. Frank Kurtis was a great craftsman. Bignotti just worked out of his basement, just about a half mile from me.

George was the greatest wrench out of a toolbox. That's the way I put it. Nowadays they have all this tech stuff. It's altogether different. He was the chief mechanic on seven Indy winners with different drivers. Can you imagine? (A.J.) Foyt, (Al) Unser, (Tom) Sneva, (ed. note: also Graham Hill and Gordon Johncock). He made 'em all perform. Nowadays it's so costly.

After Indy, I had to make a big decision in my life: whether I should stay back there (Midwest) and race. My wife said, “We can stay back here, I can get a job anyplace. Don't worry about me.” Bignotti was going to run one of the Seal Fast cars over there at Monza in Italy on the high banks, and I could've gone over there with him. Or I could come home and continue with my part-time business. I had been making a couple hundred a week, or something like that. Not big monoey, but I decided to come home and I made the right decision. In those days there weren't many dealers like there are now.

For seven years I worked out of my basement, and about five or seven others in the neighborhood. I was walking back and forth between all the places all day long. So I decided in 1961 that I should get everything in one place. That's when I acquired the building that I'm in now at 5 Cordova. I leased it for 16 years and bought it for $40,000 (in 1977). It's 3,300 square feet.

It was orifinally a grocery store, right? Rapp: It used to be the independent grocer. The Safeway moved down to Mission Street where they are now with a big parking lot, and the independent moved from my building to the corner. And that's where they still are today with different owners. It's Cordova Market.

It was set up so I could back my truck and trailer in there after a race, with a big, wide doorway and everything else. And that's the way it is today....been there all these years. The house where I was born and raised is right across the street from my store, 329 Rolph. I live up the hill, a half mile, in Southern Hills. My wife and I bought the house there brand new. She died 32 years ago, from cancer. She was a great part of my life, as far as career goes.

Did she go to the races: Rapp: Before we had kids, she went to the races all the time. But I'll tell you, it was 1966 or 1967; I was driving for Emery Graham with a Chevy II. The kids were young and sometimes she'd stay home. So, I came home and the next morning she asks, “How'd you do last night?” And I said, “I did good in the heat race; I got up to second and in the main I got on my head. (She said) “You got on your head?” I hadn't been on my head in like 10 years. So she asked, “What happened?” I said, “Well, a guy screwed up ahead of me and I got over him and hit the fence and bent the car up.”

She wanted to know what I was going to do now and I said, “Well, a bunch of guys are working on the car right now to straighten it out so we can run tonight in Sacramento on the half mile, a 100-lapper.” So, we got a fifth in the 100-lapper (laughs). It thrilled me.

It must've been difficult to run a business and drive at the same time. Rapp: Yeah, I used to look at J.C. Agajanian. He was an owner and a promoter. It was pretty tough. My dad was helping in the shop, at the house, going to all the races and pumping fuel. My wife was doing the books. She was a really sharp bookkeeper. She could take care of anything.

It seems like the 1960s was your peak as a driver. Rapp: I kept winning races into the '60s. I retired in '67. The last main event I won was indoors in '66 in Oakland. I won about 40 main events altogether. Gary Koster and I won the most indoor (BCRA) races. We each won 12.

Did you miss driving when you retired? Rapp: Not too much, because I was still going to the track with my fuel and tire truck. I was busy. I kept going to the track until the last couple of years. I just retired a couple of years ago.

You were dedicated to your job as a supplier. Rapp: At Calistoga I got a hall of fame and it wasn't because I had great achievements there. I got third in the main there one night. I got some other fifth, sixth places, stuff like that. The big thing was I had been hauling fuel and tires there for about 45 years (laughs). We'd bring 15 barrels of fuel for a weekend. Louis (Vermeil) said to me way back in '53, “I'd like you to bring a barrel of fuel with you,” and that's how it got started. I gradually built it up. I had a 1,000 gallon tank and then a 6,000 gallon tank in South San Francisco. A friend of my dad's had an oil company there and they had all these tanks, so I bought a tank. You got a better price when you took big quantities. One year I sold nearly 22,000 gallons of fuel.

To what do you attribute your longevity? Rapp: Take care of the body by eating the right kinds of food and don't eat any junk foods. Stay healthy. When I was running a 50- or 100-lapper, I would exercise every other night before I went to bed. That gave me stamiina.

Racing has been my life. And as the saying goes, “Would you like to live your life over again?” I would. Some people wouldn''t, but I would.

 

Jay Cortez and Jade Kalvin-The beginning!

 

This is a story of Jade Kalvin and Jay Cortez. And before they have become the very hard to control, an yet irrevocably in love, relationship couple they are today.

 

The summer of 2010, rite before senior year, Tuesday, August the 1st.

 

The town of Spirit city, bus number 748, came rolling up to a stop at the bus stop at the Spirit city mall. A girl with red hair, green eyes, yet with some form of fireyness in them, hopped off the bus. She had a purple one strap sling backpack with her, and had bright neon yellow and orange headphones on her ears. As she walked to the doors of the mall, the man watching her stepped out of his brand new Chevy truck. He saved up for it all summer and had made a deal with the owner of the dealership to get it. It was his favorite color, metallic blue. As he stepped out of it, taking one last look in his side mirror, pushing his shaggy, but perfect blonde hair off to the side then back, styling it the way he likes it. He always tried to accentuate his natural tan skin, and his dark blue eyes. He locked his truck, and followed the girl inside.

 

As the girl with the firey red hair went into a Zumiez store, looking at pretty much everything, but stopping at the skateboards in the back. The blonde tall man had followed her in. He knew that this was pretty weird. But, all through the school year last year, he'd liked her, he just never had the guts up to ask her out before now. He was trying to get through his study's anyways. But this year was going to be different. He would ask her out.

"Hello, Welcome to Zumiez, can i help you find anything today?" A salesman asked him. "Nah, im good. Just lookin' around." He replied back with a smile. "All right, if you need anything, dont be shy to ask." And the salesman was off in a flash. The blonde man made his way back to the skateboards as well, looking up at each vivid colored board hung on a pipe on the ceiling for show. He looked over, seeing the red haired beauty only 5 feet away from em. She looked at him then, and he gulped nervously, and smiled back. "Y-you like skating?" he asked her, not able to help the stutter that left his lips. The girl smiled at him, and nodded. "Yea. Im pretty good actually. Though i mostly just like to ride the long boards, or any cruising kind of boards...what bout you?" she asked him, stepping up one step towards him. The blonde man smiled, an nodded. "Yea, i skate now and then. More into BMX or racing though. Kind of more of a... a thrill, you know?" The girl smiled, and giggled a chiming shy sound. He loved her laugh, it gave him butterflies. "Yea, i know watchu mean. Thats why i surf, snowboard, and even dirt race as well...Im Jade Kalvin..you?" Jade said. She'd finally introduced herself, professionally at least. He smiled, and shook the hand she held out, smiling. "Im Jay Cortez. And nice, the dirt racing sounds really kool. I’ve never done it before." he said, honestly. Jade smiled, and shrugged. "Perhaps i could show you sometime." She turned her head though when the salesman he saw when he came in walked up to her. A short man, with a red Mohawk that was about an inch or two long. "Can i help either of you back here with anything?" he asked, and Jay couldn't helped but glare at him, cause he was checking out Jade's chest. "Yes. I would like to buy one of those boards up there. I jus, cant really decide between two." Jade said to the man, not seeming to notice he was being a pig. "Well. Which two is it between miss?" he asked, as he grabbed a ladder, and set it up to place. Jade pointed to two area's of the square of hanging board that they were in. "Its either that cruiser Element board there, or, that cruiser Purple panda board there." The man saw the walking distance, an gulped. He wasn't in the greatest shape.

He got em both down though, and handed them to Jade. "Well, which one calls out to you hun?" he said. Jay wanted to wring his fat little neck for calling er that. But Jade just looked at himself anyways. "Which one do you think i should get Jay?" Jade asked him. His stomach had that butterfly feeling again when she acknowledged his existence. He couldn't help but smile again, looking at the boards though. "Well. The Element one is pretty kool, but...i think the panda one looks like it could be more, You, you know?" He smiled, and he hoped that he didn't give emself up that he'd bin watching her secretly, but not like a creep.

She smiled though, handing the salesman back the Element one. "I think i'll take this Panda one." she said with a smile, an he smirked when he saw and heard the man sigh and grumble that he had to go back up. His arm got grabbed though by Jade, and willingly, he was pulled over by the trucks and the wheels, and the grip-tap, and bearings side of the store. "Wanna help me pick out everything else Jay?" Jade asked him, again with her beautiful smile. Jay just nodded and smiled. "Of course. I'd be glad to."

 

For the next 30 minutes, they had spent 20 of that in Zumiez, getting Jade's new skateboard, and a few new clothes and shoes. The next was in Spencer's for the rest. And now they were headed to the food court. Jay was almost like a puppy dog. He had the puppy dog, follow you around for life, kind of feel. But he didn't hate it like he usually would hate it. He knew then, that Jade was the one that he was waiting for.

When they had to split up in the food court to get food, cause Jay couldn't eat the food Jade wanted, he hurt all over. They met up in a few minutes though, in a kinda, sticky, situation. See, they didnt see each other, and had ran right into each other, thankfully only spilling on the floor, an not each other. "Oh no. I am so so so sorry Jay. I am a total klutz. I am so very sorry." Jade said. He could see how much she was sorry. "It is as much my fault Jade. We are both klutzes" he said with a chuckle, grabbing some napkins off the table, and wiping the drinks puddles up. "Shall we sit?" he asked her gentlemanly with a smile, pulling her chair out for her. She smiled, and sat down in her chair down, taking her backpack off first, and then her purple jacket. Which now he realized why the salesman at Zumiez stared. Her breasts were so luscious. He just wanted to press his face in between them, and he'd be completely safe there. He pulled his mind back from his day dream, and pushed the chair in when she sat. Sitting on her right side, they began to eat. When they were almost done, only eating there fries left, Jay gulped, trying to find the words for what he was about to say. Jade interrupted him first though. "Hey Jay...can i ask you something?" Jay's eyebrows rose a bit curiously. "Uh, yea sure. Anything." he said.

Jade gulped audibly, fiddling with her drink cup. "Uhm..well, I have this..friend..an she likes this guy..." she bit her bottom lip nervously. “Go on.” he said. Jay wondered if there really was another friend, or if she was just using a medifor for herself. "And well, she is really afraid of what to do next. See, the relationship is new in itself, and she doesn't want to ruin anything with taking it further, but, she feels that if she doesn't, it'll be the biggest mistake of her life." She looked up at him with innocent scared eyes. He knew it was about her then, and just smiled at her, saying simply whilst laying his hand on hers. "You do what feels right Jade. If risks weren't worth taking, people would just be in there living rooms, watching TV. I say just to take the chance." His words made her smile, and that means that he smiled back. "All rite. In that case. I uhm...i have something to say to you." she said, biting her lip again. "Look..i like you Jay..alot. I know we met an all, like, just today, but, i want things to be more. It feels like it should be more, you know?" She looked at him straight on, there eyes meeting. Jay smiled, and leaned in his chair to her, holding her hand. "I feel the same way Jade. I just didnt want to freak you out by asking too fast." he smiled, and chuckled a bit.

 

Jade blushed, holding Jay's hand right back. She'd never felt this way before him, least not this strong at the first meeting. She even wanted to have sex with him this soon. There were connections with them out the wazoo. "Would you like to see a movie Saturday?" Jay asked her. She smiled, zoning back in. She nodded, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Yes. I'd love that. A lot" Jay smiled, and he stood up. "I'd hate to leave though..but i uh, gotta go to work." he said, and she pouted a little bit, but stood up. "Oh, right, the construction job huh? Well, guess I’ll see you Saturday." Jade said, and Jay hugged her. He was so tall though, that the top of her head could actually fit in the crook of his neck. She liked it there. She felt protected there. A feeling she hadn't felt in a long long time. "You have my cell number right?" Jay asked her, and she nodded. "Course. You have mine too, rite?" He chuckled, and kissed her head. "Of course, of course." he smiled, being all smarty-pants like.

 

Jade didn't have anywhere else to go, so she asked Jay if he could drop her off at her house. He'd be picking her up on Saturday night anyways. "So, i guess i'll see you Saturday..." she said, fumbling with her keys in her hand. Was he going to kiss her or not? Or was he really only one of the select few that actually had manners. That was a total shock to her. "I want to kiss you, you know Jade. I just, i don't want to go that fast. That is usually when things go bad. We have a few days till Saturday though. We can call each other and hang out, and text, and IM as well. Lets just save the kiss till then, all rite?" Jay asked, totally throwing her off her guard as she just stared at him, shocked. She'd nodded slowly though, amazed. This was the one for her. And as she got out of the truck an waved him off, and unlocked the door to her 2 story modern city house, she knew that he was the one that would change everything about her. And it scared her a little bit.

 

"Hi sweetie." said Jade's mom, Julia Kalvin. She really didn't look like her mom, or her dad, for that matter. She often wondered if she was adopted. But, they had the blood tests and everything to prove that she was there's. Plus, when two fire spirit controller's have a child together, there child rubs off on them that way. Meaning, her Fire controlling, is one hell of a mess. She has to watch herself all the time.

"Hey mom." Jade said back to her, dropping her bag down at the couch as she sat down, smiling. "Someone had a fun day at the mall. Did you meet someone hon?" she asked her, Jade just blushed. "I guess im easy to read...but yea...i did mom. I really did. An uhm...he asked me...out...for Saturday....and I said that i'd be glad to go..." she said to Julia, gulping. She was almost never allowed to have dates. She always just used to sneak out her window at night.

Julia just looked at her and shook her head sighing. "Jade honey, you know your father doesn't like you dating. Why do you keep trying to?" she asked her. Jade just glared at the floor, picking her shopping bags up, and her new skateboard. "Im not dealing with this now mom. Cause thats a crap rule! Im 17 fucking years old! I should be able to do what i want! I have a job, i get, okay grades in school, its not fair!" She yelled, storming up the stairs, and turning in the hall an running to her room, slamming her door, and locking it shut. Julia sighed, and went back into the kitchen to make dinner. "That child will never learn her role in life if she keeps going like this."

 

Jade was slumped on her bed, face first of course, her head buried under a stack or pillows. "This fucking sucks. Im trapped in this house..." She said mumbled into the pillows. She wasnt all that trapped. I mean, her parents had provided the job for her, even if it was at a pizzeria, they knew the owner, and had made her sound good to him. And not to mention the room she had. She kept it dirty mosta the time, cause she was just too lazy to clean it. But her room was a purple angled ceiling room, with posters of skateboarders, rock-stars, and a few...dozen, half naked man pics as well. She has the most, to her, advanced laptop of all time, including a number of gaming systems. And a pretty big walk in closet. She even had one of those windows, where it opened up to a little balcony so she can sit out there...that was also how she snuck out most of the time.

"I guess they know best..." Jade said, sitting up an pushing the pillows back up at the head of the bed. Standing up, she went to her bathroom, yeah, she had one of her own too. "Need to shower for work..god, why do i need to do that..." she groaned, but started to undress. She couldn't help but look at the scar on her flat, but muscular stomach in the bathroom mirror. She'd gotten it when she was a baby. She couldn't remember it, but her parents said she had to have her appendix taken out. Her fingers brushed the smooth surface of it. "I hope Jay wont mind looking at it while he.." Jade gasped. That thought of him, seeing all of her, and being inside of her, hadn't fully, crossed her mind. "Great...now im gonna be even more nervous for Saturday." she said with a sigh. She touched the tips of her shaggy, mixed length real red hair, and smiled a little. She never considered herself beautiful. She was and probably will always remain a tom-boy. She blushed though, remembering when Jay had looked at her breasts in the food court earlier. She felt beautiful then, cause he wasn't just looking at her breasts. He was looking at her. "Maybe...Saturday could be bigger then i thought." with a little smile spreading on her face, as she stepped into the steaming shower.

 

50 minutes later, Jay was taking his first break of 3 for his shift. Eating a turkey sandwich and a coffee mug beside em, he pulled out his cell phone, and dialed the number he'd already memorized. Jade's number. He chewed fast, not wanting her to pick up on him eating while they were talking. The ringing kept on ringing though, and he worried if his dream was about to come crashing down on him. His stomach started to clench when he heard a distant "Hello?" He nearly chocked, coughing to clear his throat. "Uhm, hey, its me Jay. You uh, busy?" he asked, though the voice had sounded odd. "Er...this is not Jade....this is her mother." His eyes had widened, and he'd dropped his phone. "Hello? Jay?" Jade's mother asked, and he scrambled to pick it up. "Sorry bout that...im on break at work, and i just got bumped and dropped my phone...so uhh...your her ma...huh..." "Yes. Jade is in the shower right now, if you wanna call back, i can tell her you called." her mother said to em. He could tell it in her voice, she did not like him. "No. thats fine. I'd like to talk to you actually. About, maybe, allowing Jade to go out with me Saturday night. She uh, said you guys are pretty strict with guys and her dating, and i just wanted to say that, im a nice guy, i have a job, a great one, i get straight a's in school, i dont do drugs or anything, and i dont look for sex anywhere. I just want to go out with her for one night, and if she doesn't like it, i swear i will leave her alone." Jay didn't realize that he was rambling though.

"Jay Jay Jay, stop. Just, take a breather." she said, sighing. "Look, i know you like her, and by that reason, im betting on a lot. But its not up to me...its up to her father. He is really protective when it comes to her. So, maybe tomorrow, you could come over for dinner tomorrow. Its a Wednesday, and neither of us work, so, i figured that'd be an okay date." Jay's eyebrows rose up. He didn't work either, but he was still surprised that this was happening. "Uh, yea, i uh, guess i can do that...should i bring anything over mam'?" he asked, gulping. "Just be yourself. Be over at 8, all right? And my name is Julia Kalvin, my husbands is Marty Kalvin." Julia said. Jay gulped, nodding, then realizing she couldn't see him. "Yes mam'. It was a pleasure talking to you." "As was you. See you tomorrow. buh bye." And she was gone. "Well, that was interesting...." Jay said as he shut his phone and finished off his sandwich. "But, gotta get back to work now." He stood up, putting his empty sandwich baggy in his lunchpack, and his coffee mug, carrying it inside the paper mill employee wash-up area, and putting it in his locker. He turned around and got right back to work.

 

"Man...only 8...how the hell can time be going by soooo sloowwwlllyyyy?" Jade groaned as she was surfing the net on her favorite website, Gaiaonline. "I want this night to be over already. And tomorrow, started." She said, smiling. She was really looking forward for dinner with her parents and Jay. Just then, she looked around her room, seeing the mess. "Oh crap...we will come up here, i know it...i gotta clean up." She got up, stepping on a overturned skateboard half under her bed, and catching herself before any horrible damage was done. "Okay...what i trip over something in this place, its time to clean you way more often." She said to, the room. For the next hour though, she had turned on a series of bands, most of them punk, a few country, rock, rap, an hip-hop songs. Currently, she was singing along to Eminem's and Rihanna's 'Not Afraid' song, as she picked up some last bit of laundry when her cell phone rang. She dropped the clothes in the basket by her bed, an picked her phone up from her bed, an looked at the caller ID, smiling as she picked it up, saying with a cheery. "Hey Jay. How's it goin?" She heard Jay chuckle, and it sounded so warm, she wished he was with her now to laugh in front of her. "Its goin good. Just, relaxing from a hard days work. What about yourself?" Jade sat down on the bed, crossing her legs and getting comfy. "Its okay. I just spent the hour cleaning a very dirty room." She paused, and faced palmed herself. Why had she said that! Of all things, she thought she could just get away with hiding her lazyness. "I mean, it wasn't that dirty or anything..but im not a neat freak or.." She stopped talking when she heard him laughing. "Your funny Jade. You know i dont care if your a little dirty, or overly clean right? I still like you. Nothing's gonna change there." Jade's heart began to swell, really feeling what he said, and almost crying. "I..i know..im just, nervous for tomorrow, and Saturday...cause uh...if my father doesnt like you...its not happening.." She gulped, whispering. "Although its not like iv'e never snuck out on a date or anything...but he checks on me now." She heard Jay sighed a bit. "It'll be all right hun. If we hafta keep the relationship a secret from your father for us to work, it'll happen. But im not gonna give up on you just cause your dad's a...your dad. Im only leaving if YOU say to leave. I wont force anything on you. Ever." Jade smiled a bit, she wasn't sure when it happened, but she'd turned on her stomach, and was waving her feet in the air slowly. She totally now got why those pre-teens on TV sat like that. They were talking about, or to, there true love. "Yea. But i dont think i'll ever say those words. So, your here for life hun." She giggled a lil bit, smiling, hearing him chuckle his deep throaty chuckle again. From that moment on, they'd spent the entire night from 8:30 pm, to 5:45 am, talking on the phone, sometimes in hushed whispers cause each of there parents would check on them, more so her own though.

 

"Jade, wake up. honey, wake up. Only a few hours left till that guy gets here." Marty Kalvin had said, shaking Jade till she woke up. She yawned, and stretched, curling back up. "Come on. Get up....I'll tell em he's not good enough if you dont get up." Marty said, smirking a bit. Jade glowered up at her father, mumbling. "You wouldnt..." As she sat up then, looking around. "So, i really slept all day then?" she asked her father, and he nodded, making a tsk-tsk noise. "Yes. Really. Seemed like zombies couldn't even wake you up for the longest time. Now hurry up. You need to shower and change an be ready in 2 hours." Marty said, standing up an leaving Jade's room. "Oh damn.." She said, looking at her alarm clock, and then her phone, seeing she had a text, from one friend, her friend Cho, and Jay. "Hehe. kool cho." she replied to her, then looked at Jay's text.

 

'Jade, cant wait 2 c u, im bringin a surprise, c u soon. <3 Jay'

 

"Awww. cute...surprise huh...wonder what it could be." She said, plugging her phone in to charge cause it was on her last bar, then going to the bathroom to brush her nest of her hair out, an hopping into the shower. Exactly 2 hours later, she was out of the shower, and downstairs, helping he mom out with the cooking when the doorbell rang. "Oh! He's here! Get the door dad!" She screeched happily to her father.

 

Jay was super nervous, waiting outside the door. He saw a man open the door, thinking it was the father. Gulping down the vomit that he thought would come up at any moment, he extended his free hand to him. "Sir. Im Jay Cortez. Its nice to meet you." Marty shook his hand back. "The feelings mutual. Please, come in." as Marty stepped to the side to let him in. Jay walked into the living room, it was a little bit bigger then his own living room. Much nicer though. It had green walls, a earthy colored carpet, and pictures of sports achievements by all three family members hung on the walls. There was a large couch that circled around a giant flat screen television, with cases of dvd's on a free standing shelf next to it. "This is a nice place you have here sir." Jay said to Marty, who was right behind him. He gulped a little bit nervously, leaning against the couch. "Have a seat. I'll go get my only daughter." Marty said, walking past em an into a different room. Jay let out a little sigh, sitting down in the middle of the couch. The TV was turned on, and there was a Paula Deen episode on. She was making pot-roast.

All of a sudden, warm hands were over his eyes, and he jumped a little bit, getting a kiss on his cheek. "Im really hoping thats you hun, cause if its your dad, im gonna be a little bit afraid." He chuckled, Jade laughing, an letting him see, coming around the couch, an he just stared at her, drooling a tiny bit.

"Your beautiful Jade." Jay said to her, smiling. Jade was wearing a very sexy purple jean skirt, kind of short, and a white blouse, with a purple bra, one of the top buttons was undone, so he could see the top of her perfect breasts underneath. He had to look at his feet, cause he was getting to excited. Standing up, he picked her hand up, kissing it. "Its a pleasure to see you miss. Your incredible." Jade blushed, and sat down on the couch, he followed along, sitting close to her, his hand still in his pocket with his surprise in said hand. "Sooo...i am actually really curious Jay..but uhm....what was this 'surprise' you said earlier?" She asked him and he just laughed, leaning back against the couch. "You'll see. Lets wait for the night to come to an end first." He smiled. Jade made a puffy pouting kind of face, and Jay just pressed his finger lightly on her lips. "Oh you'll see...how long till the dinner starts?" he asked, and she looked past him at the room Marty had disappeared in, and she'd entered. "Mom said it'd be about 20 minutes...wanna come upstairs an see my room?" she asked, an Jay smiled, holding her hand. "Only if its all right with your parents. I dont wanna get my ass kicked before they get to know me more." Jade stood, pulling on his hand that was in hers. "Oh come on. They know where to find us. Sides, we should have some privacy, cause i know that my dad's listening to our every word right now." Her eye had twitched then, and he turned around on the couch, Marty came into view a few seconds later, his arms crossed. "Sit back down Jade. No one is going into any of the rooms." He growled, flames appearing in his eyes. "Uhm, yes sir." Jay said, looking down at his hands. Jade was glaring at her father though. "We're not gonna do anything dad! And i jus wanna show em my room. God." Marty just shook her head, Julia calling for em though. "Dear, could you come here please?!" Marty sighed, saying "Yea, coming." Glaring once more at Jay, an then going to the kitchen. Jade had grabbed Jay's hand, and was surprisingly pretty strong as she pulled him up, and pulled em up the stairs, and to what looked like her room, pulling an in and shutting an locking the door. "Phew. I think we have about 5 minutes." Jade said, sitting on her bed, smiling cutely. He gulped, sitting hesitantly next to her. He'd never bin in a girl that he liked this much, room before. "So, this is your place, huh? Its really....purple." He chuckled, smiling at her. Jade was biting her lip, and he realized that she was kneeling close to him, her knee's touching his thighs. "Uh...something wrong Jade?" he asked her, and she just blushed. "No. Nothing..its just...." she looked up a little bit shyly at him. "Id you like me...how come you haven't kissed me?" Jay's eyebrows rose up, his cheeks going pink. "Er..i have wanted to. I just, didnt want to move that fast..." he looked down. About 30 seconds past, and Jay looked up at her, shifting on the bed so one leg on crossed half on the bed, one leg still touching the floor. "Jade, may i kiss you?" Jade smiled at him, and nodded, blushing a red color. "Of course you can." She said.

Jay took the side's of her face in his hands lightly, leaning forward into her, she leaned a bit as well, as they sweetly shared there first kiss together. He tasted her lips with almost a starvation. She tasted like burnt marshmallows, lilacs, and heat. Lots of heat.

 

Jade wrapped her arms around Jay's neck, shifting a little, still kissing em, and sitting in his lap. He tasted so delicious. Like a blueberry Popsicle, he was hot at the same time, like a bottle of Tabasco sauce. Things were heating up between them. All too fast, though, it seemed like neither of them wanted or could stop.

An abrupt sharp knock sounded at Jade's door though, ending there very steamy kiss, in which they both sighed heavily. "The 2 of you down stairs in one minute, or else!" Marty's voice said through the door, clearly pissed that they'd both ignored his orders. "Oh come on dad! Im just showing Jay my PS3! Chill out!" Jade said to Marty, at the same time, grabbing a remote on her bed, and clicking a button, so a shelf popped out of the entertainment center, showing her PS3. "I dont care Jade! You know the rules! Now get down here in one minute, or else Jay's gone, and your forbidden to see him again!" Marty yelled at Jade through the door. Jade just glared at the door, saying back to him challengingly. "You cant do that dad!" Marty just saying. "Yes, i can. im your father, and i can have you sent to military school!" Jade's eyes started to tear up a bit, and Jay wanted to punch Marty for making those tears form. He just held her hand though, standing up, saying to him. "We're coming sir." Marty growling, and pausing a second more before his footsteps were heard going down the stairs. "Hey...its all right. We have Saturday." He said with a smile to her, leaning down an kissing her cheek, wiping the tears away from her eyes. Jade just nodded, and they were out of her room in 30 seconds, entering the dining room. And right as they entered, he pulled the chair for Jade out for her, she smiled at him, ad sat down, and he went and sat across from her. Sniffing and looking around the room, smelling pot roast and mashed potatoes filling the house, and saying to Julia with a smile. "Everything smells great Mrs. Kalvin." Julia smiled, setting a napkin on her lap. "Thank you Jay. I hope you are hungry. Im afraid i made a little too much." They both laughed a little bit, Jay smiling an saying. "Mam, i dont think i ever get full. My brother and i often have contests to see who can eat the most without throwing up after wards" Only a second past when he cleared his throat. "I mean, i guess that's not dinner conversation..but yeah...." He bowed his head, fumbling underneath the table in his hands. "Would you mind saying grace dear?" Julia asked Marty. The room fell silent, and Marty began. "Thank you lord, for giving us this food on our table. Thank you Julia for preparing such a delicious meal. We thank you lord before we eat, imagining you here beside us so as we may dine with a friend. Amen." And a group "Amen" was heard after his.

 

Jay was on his 2nd plate, Marty almost never took his eyes off of him, Julia and Jay kept up most of the conversation, while Jade just stayed quite, not wanting anything to go wrong that would make her be banned literally from Jay. She couldn't help but look at her father for his reaction on a few Jay's responses. She must have bin loosing her touch though with him, cause she couldn't make out some stuff. She just knew it wasn't good faces, and it freaked her out even more. She didn't know what her father was thinking, but she really hoped that he approved of Jay.

 

It was 2 hours later that the 4 of them were in the living room, sprawled out on the couch. Julia had her head resting on Marty's shoulder, believing to be asleep. Jay was nodding off a tiny bit also, but he remained awake. Jade was practically curled up on his lap, her head more though, resting on him, passed out, they were watching the only thing on TV at that night, and old re-run for Sports center. Jay had his arm around Jade's waist, every so often to say something to Marty, still a little bit nervous. "So, i felt it when you stepped in my house, and i didnt want the girls to hear...but your a water user, yes?" Marty asked Jay, being taken completely off guard. "Er...yes sir...." Jay said, biting his lip. He looked up at Marty though, glaring a bit, saying quietly so not to wake the girls, but harshly to Marty. "Why would it matter sir?" Marty just shook his head. "It doesn't. Just dont want my little girl being outnumbered cause you decide to use your ability on her and weaken her." His eyes were narrowed at Marty, now super pissed that he'd even think he'd use force on Jade. His arm tightened around Jade's waist. "Sir, i would never force Jade into something that she didnt feel comfortable with herself. And i am very insulted that you insinuated id do that in the first place sir. I did not do that with you at all. And i dont appreciate you doing it to me." They just stared at each other. About 15 minutes later, Marty turned the TV off. "Should probably get the girls in bed, i should hit the hay as well. Work in the morning." Marty said, lightly nudging Julia to wake her up. "What is it hon?" Julia asked Marty, looking up at him with one eye open. "Time for bedtime." Marty said with a tiny smile, kissing her nose tip sweetly, seeing her blush. Jay did the same nudge to Jade, Jade didnt open her eyes though, she just grabbed the purple throw blanket on the end of the couch, and put it over her head, mumbling. "Nu uh. Not moving. And neither are you." she said. He chuckled, and looked at Marty and Julia who stood up and headed for the stairs. Marty was looking at him. "You have 5 minutes." Marty said to him, and he picked Jade up into her arms, keeping the throw blanket on her, and heading up the stairs after her parents.

Getting into Jade's room, and leaving the door a couple inches cracked so Marty didnt freak out, Jay layed Jade down on her bed. He started to take her shoes off when her hand on his arm stopped him, and looked up at her. "Sorry...thought that you were asleep..didnt mean to wake you.." He said, gulping. Jade just looked up at him, sleepily, but happily. "Its ok Jay. I know my dad is going to say yes. He didnt kill you on his first sight of you...your home free." She smiled at him, sitting up onto her elbows, still laying somewhat. Jay just stared at her, dumbstruck. Why'd she put him through all the night of thinking he hated him then? He got it then. She was testing him. To see if HE could handle her father and all he through at him. And probably seeing if he was brave enough to stay with her in the first place. "You Jade, are a little bt of a game player, aren't you?" He asked her, eyes narrowed a bit, but he sat closer to her, up by her hip, leaning his head down to hers, so he was only an inch or so away. He could see her blush clear on then. "I just wanted to know...if you could...handle...my dad..." she said, looking down. Jay tilted her head back up to him, and before she could say anything, kissed her sweetly. And just as it came, it started out slow, and then became hot passionate kisses all over her lips and neck, nipping at the thin skin on her neck also. Why was is so easy for them to get physical? He's kissed girls before, he'd guessed that she'd kissed guys too. But for some reason, it seemed like it was only her, that he wanted to kiss now, and the only one that ever got his blood boiling, like she did. He pushed himself away from there make-out session, panting a little bit, cause he hated himself for ending it. "Sorry i just...need to think Jade.." he said to her, looking down. Jade looked at em worriedly though. "Maybe you should go home then...cause i think if you stay here...with how we just were...neither of us will make it through the night with our clothes on..." she said, chuckling a bit, even if those words were 100 percent true at the moment. They kissed goodnight, for a minute or so, and then he headed out to his truck and headed off for home, where he ran into his father watchign TV with his mom in the living room. "Hey Jay. Good dinner?" His mom, Molly Cortez, said. "Yea..was deffiantly eventful..." he muttered the last part so they couldnt hear him, as he landed on the peach flowered couch beside the twin couch his parents were on. He noticed his dad had a can of beer in his hand and his other arm was around his mom's shoulders. There were also a few cans on the coffee table beside him. "So Jay, whats the family like?" his mom asked him in her regular sweet tone. He was so much like his mom. Sweet, caring, dark blue beuatiful eyes like his. And there personalities were almost alike. Only thing different was there gender, and hair color. Which was kind of confusing. She was a pure dark dark dark DARK brown haired woman, and his dad had red hair. Yet, hisself and Kai were both blonde as blonde could get. Jay cleared his throat a bit, crossing his leg like a man does. "They were pretty kool actually....her dad...kinda doesnt like me i think though...her mom reminds me of you though ma." he said with a smile to her, and she smiled back. "Im hoping that that is a good thing hun." his mom said, his dad chiming in with a oh so charming. "Its cause he doesnt want his girl gettin preggo. Duh. And your someone who looks like the guy he'd look out for." Jay just stared at him, a little bit pissed that he'd say that. His mom chimed in before he could get the chance though. "Hun, dont start anything please. And Jay, he's a little bit right. More just about his daughter dating. It sounds to me like her father doesnt want to let go of her so easily. Its not necessarily directed entirely at you." Jay sighed, standing up and stretching. " I guess..i gotta be at work in the morning...gotta catch some z/s...night." he walked over an kissed his mom on the cheek, heading down the hall to his room, and shutting his door, landing on his bed. "Man...im tired, but i cant settle down either..." he mumbled to himself, turning his stereo on to some techno music. Taking off his shoes, shirt and jeans, and getting into bed in just a pair of blue boxer briefs, he looked at his own chest, seeing not great muscles there, or on his arms. "I gotta buff up if i wanna be with her...she's not gonna want to wanna see a stick like me with her all the time...gotta protect her when i have to." thinking about something else, like work in the morning, put him to sleep in an instant.

   

((goin to bed. will finish this later))

"So now that's two Arlingtons who knows who we are. I'm guessing he figured us out through Jackie. Jackie didn't tell him who he was, did he? Nah, Jackie's better than that. I'm also guessing Johnny's smart enough to follow the trail, so he probably knows who Bruce is as well. Basically we went to Johnny for answers, now we just have one more thing to worry about. Eh, again he's smart. he'll probably keep his mouth shut. Either that or no-one will believe him. Anyway, with nothing else left to do, we went back home to check up on Jackie. If he's awake he's telling us everything. Something's wrong and we need to know. I didn't get a good look at his face during his outburst in Gotham heights, but Steph did. She actually won't shut up about it. So yeah, not good. Though the screams of pain and crying really said everything that needed to be said. Anyway, we got back home and walked down to the cave. We left Jackie in the medical wing, shivering and crying in that drug-induced sleep I had to put him in. Wish Bruce would've told me what drug it was I stuck him with. Can't be good for a normal human if it's able knock Jackie out. We didn't even make it through the trophy room before we saw Jackie again, though. He was with Alfred, in costume. And he still looked terrible.

 

"What are you doing? You should be in bed, you're sick!"

 

"I know. But there's something I've gotta do...."

 

"There's nothing you gotta do, you just nearly tore apart Gotham Heights!"

 

"Please don't remind me..."

 

"If I must say, Master Jackson has recovered surprisingly quick. I wasn't expecting him to be walking the way he looked. I've seen master Bruce look less pained and he didn't walk for 4 days."

 

"We told you to keep him in bed, Alfred!"

 

"He required my help, Master Timothy. Young Jackson's abilities precede him."

 

"Precede him? What's that mean? Seriously Jackie, you gotta---"

 

"Tell you what's going on, Steph? You're also gonna ask me what caused me so much pain back at Gotham heights. I know because I can here you saying it."

 

"But I didn't say anything, you interrupted me?"

 

"Well, you didn't say it with your voice. You said it with your mind. I've been hearing your mind---well, all your minds for the past couple weeks. Alfred helped me figure it out."

 

"It was my pleasure. Poor child thought he was going mad, hearing voices in his head when it was simply collective thoughts."

 

"You were hearing voices? Why didn't you say anything?"

 

"I-I'll tell you later, right now I gotta go!"

 

"You're not going anywhere! Look at you! You look like you got hit by a train or something! You're staying here and you're telling us everything!"

 

"I will, but right now I gotta go! Savannah needs my help."

 

"Savannah, of course..."

 

"Jackie, it's sweet that you wanna help her, but you're really not well. You need to lie down and let yourself get better,"

 

"I won't get better until she's better! And right now she's way, way more hurt than I am! Please, let me go help her!"

 

"Jackie, we understand that you like her and all, but please for the love of god, think of yourself for a second! You're. Sick. You shouldn't even be standing up! Get back in bed, now!"

 

"Tim, I love you and all, I really do. But you don't know what I've seen, what I've heard, or how I feel. I need this. She needs me right now. I'm going to help her. And if you want to try and stop me, go ahead. But I'm gonna tell you right now, it won't end well for any of us here."

 

'...a-are you threatening me? Jackie, you can't be serious, I--"

 

"Tim, just let him go."

 

"Wha--?"

 

"Bruce?"

 

"Master Bruce? Returned from your patrol early?"

 

"Nothing was happening, Alfred. Figured I should check up on Jackie myself. See if that sedative I had STAR labs whip up had any ill effects."

 

"You had STAR labs make a drug to sedate Jackie with?..."

 

"They knew him better than any of us, Stephanie. Now, Tim, I think we should let Jackie go. He believes someone out there needs help right now, and I trust him."

 

"B-but Bruce, look at him! It's amazing he's even walking! I can't let him go back outside! What if he loses it again?"

 

"I've seen people in worse condition try far stupider things than Jackie wants to do right now. Besides, he says this will help him. From what I've seen and heard, we should accept anything that may help."

 

"Bruce, this is nuts..."

 

"Tim, when we first ran into Jackie, you made me trust you that you could help Jackie and you did. I trusted you when you took him out of STAR labs and made him one of us. I've personally been with Jackie, and I now trust him like I trust the both of you. I think he deserves the same from you."

 

"Might I say that judging by the expression on Master Jackson's face, none of us have a choice in the matter. "

 

This is so bullcrap...

 

No you didn't...

 

I haven't paid a parking ticket in Chicago since 1986.

 

I knew this day would come.

 

I had some business at the airport.

 

Where the City was waiting for me.

 

It was a freakin' trap I swear to gahd.

 

That parking garage was loaded with cars that had been booted.

 

Gave me an 'ominous' feelin' just seein' it.

 

In the movies I think they call that 'foreboding' or something.

 

I knew the gig was up.

 

I was caught with my pants down and treated to a little 'municipal morning love' courtesy of the City of Chicago.

 

A special kind of 'Chicago-Love' if you will.

 

I was dreading what this one was gonna cost me as I walked to the convenient 'revenue cashier' located right next to the parking garage at the airport.

 

I whipped out my credit card and told 'the man' that I was caught and now it was time to 'pay the piper.'

 

You can't get mad about these things you know?

 

I deserved it.

 

You 'do the crime' you gotta 'pay the fine' or something like that.

 

A thousand bucks and change.

 

Definitely not the way you wanna start your day.

 

I asked the man how many tickets they had me on.

 

'Nine' he said.

 

'Suckas' I said as I paid the bill.

 

'How far back do they go' I asked him.

 

'To 2001' he said as he read from his computer screen.

 

Three vehicles back.

 

But the tickets I got between 1986 and 2001... fifteen years worth... the 'juvenile' years...

 

the years I really let 'em pile up...

 

dude said they don't exist any more.

 

Man... I thought I was in for three to five grand.

 

He asked me if I wanted to make a 'payment plan.'

 

'I couldn't pay the tickets... I'm sure I won't comply with the payment plan' I said 'just do me now.'

 

I made sure that I got a receipt that said I was all paid up.

 

The thing that's just not fair to the 'Everyday Joe' is that being a 'corporation' and basically that my life is all business...

 

I can write this shit off...

 

thanks to 'Luminous Flying Helgramite Industries'...

 

pay for it with 'pre-tax dollars' and basically get a discount of fifty percent.

 

It's a cost of doing business.

 

Like when I get arrested for one of my company vehicles not having its emissions test done.

 

Even though it's been unregistered and sitting in the junkyard for five years after getting wrecked.

 

I've got nothing to complain about.

 

I really just hope that these people don't end up running health care.

 

Then going to the doctor will feel about as good as going to get your drivers license renewed.

 

And after you get stitched up or whatever...

 

you'll hobble out to the parking lot where you'll find a boot on your car.

 

It's all just 'a system.'

 

It's My Kind of Town

VIDEO: www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvqLlcCle_s

 

••• SCRIPT/LYRICS: •••

 

MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!

 

JIMMY NEUTRON…

 

…VS…

 

…How about you cut it there, and do as Aaron Carter put it:

Jimmy Neutron:

Leave it up to me to show the world just how I beat this carrot-topped kid,

With the hyper-stunted growth and accent screaming "I'm adopted!"

While you live behind a front, what I present is far from feigning,

And I'll show it sevenfold here, no one crying Fowl nor complaining!

3D's rising to preeminence saw me play an essential role,

While it's being generous to even call you two-dimensional;

My words will haunt your dreams 'til you can't speak but to repeat them,

While as for eggs from afar, I over-easily defeat them!

You're a lifelong Ego-Tripper, like Sheen's brain gone ultra-bloated,

With a dumb ass full of hot air; best believe that I'll explode it:

Push your buttons, and I'll make you pay, like Dee Dee's sub-in bitch.

I'll hit a home run with your noggin; call me T.V. Puppet Mitch!

Your Koos is cooked; try and attack with some alleged brilliant plan,

And get the axe still harder than your missiles visiting Japan!

A six-year-old got hired by your management to pen an ep?

Your typical scriptwriters might as well have handed them the rest.

I gaze upon your works, and scoff with triple-to-quintuple "HA!"s;

Lay down trash-talk as heinous as your little Rude-Removal was,

So like the man behind your wack doujinshi tales, prepare to Bleed,

But you can spare Einstein your moping: failure here was guaranteed!

 

I've heard your I.Q.'s off the charts, but have they checked your mental state;

Addressing people who aren't present? I mean, I, for one, relate,

But if this bout being with a Cartoon Network kid was your impression,

You're on some kind of narcotic, and so hear out my confession:

Dexter Morgan:

Your inventiveness-effectiveness extends not to perceptiveness;

The evidence: you entered this and went expecting tepidness,

Instead of which, you'll fend against this vigilante nemesis!

The title, to be fair, was vague; dare I say: ambiDexterous.

You'll find no monkey business with this scourge on vile men,

For my forte's an altogether other cause to Dial M.

Consider this a warning, Jimbo: you should go into this knowing

That the Nick logo will be far from the only splatter showing.

Think you'll know no harsher hazards than your baddest clone's dimension?

My world holds still-darker matters; enter at your own discretion.

For those I delete, retrieval simply isn't in the question,

Though the errors that earn my ire exceed just any imperfection.

Get back where you need to be, like timeline-truant Thomas Edison,

Before I slap you silly as your student body president;

Your metal mutt should know: my measured methods of malevolence

Are honed to extreme altitudes of evil-ending excellence.

 

Jimmy Neutron:

Though I've perhaps miscalculated, my mistake's no stumping one;

Don't give me flak for targeting the wrong guy here and jumping guns:

Because you'd know well all about that from your model-killer case,

Plus from the shot Deb should have fired off, full-throttle, in your face!

You hid in plain sight from the Double-M.P.D.; evaded crews of men?

Get Dave Caruso on the force, and see if they'll get fooled again.

I'd spell out why it isn't right to kill another man,

But clearly, there's no point explaining: psychos just don't understand!

 

Dexter Morgan:

Shitloads of sheeting set the stages for my killings' consummations,

But I've never seen plasticity quite like your animation's!

You're a sitting duck out here, and though your dad could lend protection,

Other such birds have been deemed as worthier of his attention!

A dark passenger's stowed up in your amusement park armada,

As fixated on rein-taking as your best friend on his llamas,

Not to mention on your mama! I'm this track's true driving force:

A bloody boss at cruelly cutting creeps and stacking slides in scores!

You're packing filler raps, bereft of charge; guess that explains the name,

But this verse won't be butchered by the baddies of Bay Harbor's bane.

Their lot fought not; got caught with shots of knockout medicine to necks,

But when it comes to battles' beats, adrenaline's what I inject!

 

Jimmy Neutron:

The comic you inspired got you fantasizing hero-scenes,

But here's a verse you couldn't defend from if you tried in your own dreams:

Prepare to eat your scary words; I'm not intimidated, mister!

They'll prove bitterer to swallow than "I will not kill my sister",

While as far as pulling plugs go, you've my personal assurance

That once you're in the electric chair, there'll be no such occurrence:

Currents surging while you curse my name; a showing truly shocking,

With the only sponge involved among my Nicktoon homies, watching!

 

Dexter Morgan:

I'm not buying your salesbots, Wrong Trousers and space-transmission toasters;

Watch me dice and ice them all, though I'm the way less vicious Moser,

Who'll command genuine genius in the name of Harry; knock a poser!

Yours falls flat as your own graphics in a Fairly Odd crossover,

Where your wish of winning this would still elude attaining!

Claiming my Doomsday is nigh? You're blatantly hallucinating:

While my psyche holds a presence people see as quite demonic,

Yours is on some other planet even Sheen would find moronic!

 

Jimmy Neutron:

If you're in the logging business now, then note this in your records:

Jimmy's jabs could fill a novel; Diligently Dissing Dexter.

Your delivery's off-key enough to turn a Twonkie peaceful;

Straying as far from proper rhythm as Showtime from Lindsay's sequels!

Your disastrous endgame saw you abscond off on your boat;

Calamitous could finish up a series on a stronger note,

As when the viewing public's tears gave way to smiles one week later,

And I'll break you even worse still, leaving half your face a crater!

 

Dexter Morgan:

What a fitting reference, seeing as it's apparent you're on meth;

Your love interest's a C.G. Helga, sans developmental depth!

Like when the P.T.C. got pissed and pushed for prudish editing,

I'll set more triggers off with this than your Bond bootleg's wedding ring:

You think your disses deeply-cutting? I don't feel the slightest twinging;

Mine will shatter all you know in spite of Hugh's space-opera-binging,

For at flesh and flows alike, I peak-perform precise stab takings,

As perfected in the practice as the "candy" your lab's baking.

 

Jimmy Neutron:

My sick spitting's like the written form of pi: it's endless, man;

The worst besmirching of your image since your real-life biggest fan!

I'll leave you Six Feet Under; torn asunder, making fatal wounds,

And spilling sodium chloride into them by the tablespoon!

You've run on more than long enough; it's high time science cut you down,

And as with barrels of sea monkeys, there'll be silence once you drown!

A crackpot code can curb compulsions, but the truth is that you ought to

Follow daddy's lead from when he saw the fruits of what he'd taught you.

 

Dexter Morgan:

On suspicion he's a huffer of perfumed megalomania,

My mission's making this brat suffer; cue Megalovania.

I'll show you how a truly bad time looks seen way up-close:

So zoomed-in as to render routines that start every day off gross!

It hardly takes brain surgery to pick apart just what your mind holds,

Blinded to the fact your "science" is inclined to backfire fivefold,

While my tried, true tactics show my skill within the spilling-blood trade,

Taking out the competition like McSpanky's with your upgrades,

And you'll thank me one day soon, when, notwithstanding your shenanigans,

Your town's left slightly safer, with its kids' preferred establishment

Under new management, although the time for that comes later,

So for now, doc, stick to fear and keep your calmness at a nadir.

 

Jimmy Neutron:

For my future-forays' flaming, you're in no position here

When the best thing you ever did for those you love was disappear!

While my screenwriting venture was a total bust, to state the obvious,

That you won't see this battle's Final Cut is my hypothesis:

I'll not let yours be put to practice; fuck you up preemptively,

The way you wish you'd done in that sick schmuck who struck in sets of three!

Just ask my other foes about the cost of crossing me, Dex,

Once I blast you all the way back to the era of the T. rex!

This foul ogre won't upstage me: it's no first-time animation Oscar!

Think I can't be mercilessly spiteful? See "Hall Monster".

Watch me scorch him like the scapegoat of his worst crimes by his crazy sponsor;

Shrink-ray-zap the worth of iffy Michael C. Hall monsters.

 

Dexter Morgan:

This last round's the round it happens, and I'll not say this again:

This rocket-boy'd best run away, avoiding witnessing a slaughter.

Stay and watch, and I'll take up your wack remote, play it again,

And keep until my point's acknowledged, and yours left dead in the water

With the local piece of human garbage I'll likewise be taking out;

A freakish, putrid arse of which you'll recognize the face, no doubt!

Jimmy Neutron: Who in my life could be deemed to deserve such dreadful killing?!

Dexter Morgan: It turns out the candy man can, 'cause he murdered several children,

So don't make me say this thrice, fat fuck: come to and face the music!

Sam: Ugh… I'm pressing charges; yeah!

Dexter Morgan: Forget a courtroom case; just sue this! (*STAB!*)

Jimmy Neutron: I'm gonna puke…

Dexter Morgan: Its usage leaves you traumatized, my knife,

But that's just one more normal day for me; another Slice of Life!

Sci-fi defines yours, with spoofs on The Fly, like hamster body-swaps,

So take an icon's word on why this fight's unwise: ask Robocop!

You're messing with aggression darker than your cheesiest of horror stories;

Simply put: you've gotta blast off out of my laboratory.

 

WHO WON?

 

WHO'S NEXT?

 

I DECIDE!

 

MOLEMAN'S…

 

James Doakes: April Fools', motherfucker!

 

…EPIC RAP BATTLES!!!

Day 104 of 365: a year in songs and photos

Song: Meatloaf, Paradise By The Dashboard Light

 

Getting the photo in early today because I'm working on, by request, a list of all the songs I've used so far with links to where you can hear/see them. Daunting task.

 

Tonight's song and photo are dedicated to Auntsmack4u

 

Auntsmack4u posted an album cover today. The album I personally inducted into annals of Insipid Moments in Rock History. And it's all because of this one song. It's the song I hate more than any other song that has ever been written, performed or copyrighted since time began and will always, forever continue to be the one song that can make me run screaming from a wedding, bat mitzvah or block party. The song that can reduce grown men and women to pantomiming actors in a surreal line dance of lust.

 

I’m sure you’ve all been to weddings or the like where people acted this song out. It can’t just be a Long Island thing. Please tell me that this happens in other places.

 

It was at my sister's wedding 13 years ago when my hatred for this song reached it's peak. It was a lovely reception. I was having a great time doing shots of tequila with the bartender and watching my relatives do all those crazy line dances that I refuse to get involved with.

 

As soon as the DJ cued up Paradise song - I’m talking as soon as the first note hit - the dance floor was packed. Everyone who sat on their fat, drunk asses during the great dance songs of the night (Oh, like you don't want to dance every time you hear Funkytown) were suddenly lined up on the floor. Guys on the left. Chicks on the right. Ready to....what? Rumble? Line dance? What the hell were they doing? Following the song? Acting it out? When did Paradise become the new Hokey Pokey? Was I that sheltered that I missed this memo?

 

At this point in the reception, I’d had about five thousand shots of tequila. Ok, maybe twenty. Twelve. Whatever. Point is, tequila will usually have me up on a table swinging my bra around dancing to some Donna Summer song. But not even a good Cuervo buzz could get me out there for this song. They tried. I told them to back off. Call me when the DJ puts on Bad Girls.

 

I just stood back and watched. Grown men and women doing this bizarre dance ritual. We’re talking town councilmen and judges and the president of the local chamber of commerce. Respected citizens! They all took turns singing the boy/girl parts, standing across from each other like some scene out of West Side Story and doing this back and forth singing. They acted the parts out, pretending to be lusty teenagers in a steamy car. During the Phil Rizzuto play by play part, one couple stood in the center of the two lines and pantomimed the whole thing. I kid you not. They acted the whole damn thing out. I was embarrassed. Why weren’t they? My jaw dropped as my cousin informed me that this went on at every wedding, in every bar, every night of the week and I needed to get out more. No. No. I need to never leave the sanctity of my house again. I’ve been emotionally scarred by witnessing this.

 

It got worse from there. The play by play part was over. Some lady in a too-short cocktail dress did a sliding split into the middle of the dance floor, holding up her hand and singing "STOP RIGHT THERE!" Wait.. That’s no lady. That’s my daughter’s religious ed teacher! And that guy singing “let me sleep on it” in her face? Jesus, that’s my uncle. Then they all chimed in. All of them. The guys singing desperately "I gotta know right now" and the girls responding with a tit-shaking chorus of "let me sleep on it. This went on until the very end, where they all did some bizarre shimmy down to the floor as they whispered “glowing like a metal on the edge of a knife.” I shook my head to clear it. I thought maybe the tequila had gotten to me. I was hallucinating. I had been transported to the ninth level of hell and Satan himself was going to rise out of the dance floor. But no. It was real. It was real and it was horrible and it formed some Pavlovian response in my brain so that I start itching and breaking out in hives every time I hear this song.

 

That happened 13 years ago. And I remember every little thing.......nah, not going there.

Amara's Journal

 

Editor's note: The panther translations are in italics and were not visible to those observing this fight.

 

What started it

Amara stood up, storming off to the edge of the bed. Here she was feeling bad for herself and Rico just acted like nothing had happened. "I'm not apologizing for giving an ungrateful bitch like you a vaccine to save your life…but don't expect treatment from the medics you're so fucking convinced are useless!" She started for the stairs. "Next time your dumbass decides to get deliberately infected, do the family a favor and stay away from the Den!"

 

Tanner 's ears twitched at this point, frowning as he looked over to Rico, feeling Amara's emotions still, sadness and maybe just a little anger. He shook his head at this point before letting out, "what the fuck did you do!" he lets out angrily as he tries to get himself up from the wall. His own mix up emotions weren't helping. He was volitile right now and Amara's emotions weren't helping in the least. He narrows his eyes a bit before limping over towards the other.

 

Rico didnt pay anymind to her. He didnt think the medics in general were useless. Sure he was mad she took forever but this could have been avoided if she didnt threaten him and then shock him 5 seconds after being shocked. He heard tanner and sighed "I asked her not to talk to me.....if she wants to shock me and threaten me then theres nor reason to talk to me.....So I told her not to speak to me" he shrugs as he wasnt going to apologize for anything he said she wouldnt stop talking to him so she made him say that. He knew she was probably going to tell alot of packies and they werent going to like him anymore but its just that way he assumed

(( Patman Ballinger: no*))

 

"News Flash jerk. When you disrespect an Elder, you get punished. I walked out on my wife to come here yesterday….I left her alone at a fucking restaurant, our private time after several days of working on different schedules…to run over here to treat Yvonne. And you send a rude, ungrateful text across the entire Pack channel because you didn't feel like waiting!" Amara paced around for a few seconds. "After all, that you go and jeopardize the treatment by deliberately kissing your infected lover…and I'm the bad one for giving you a vaccine?!"

 

Tanner 's ears flattened against his head at this point as he shook his head, taking a deep breath before murmuring out, "I don't know exactly what happened... but sounds like you're being an asshole Rico..." he lets out, looking to Amara, "I... I shouldn't stay here... I'm... just gonna make things worse..." he lets out, knowing he's getting angry and upset and more confused and depressed then he already is.

 

Rico shakes his head "Fine Im an asshole" he throws his hands in the air. "Look at me the biggest asshole ever " he hops down off the ledge and to the pool below and goes into the back of the part of the cave to be alone "The asshole will be downstairs if you need it" he said down and laid his head on the rock closing his eyes

 

Amara snarled, a more animalistic bellow than a hybrid feline would technically make. Fists clenched tight enough to draw blood, she'd storm after the sarcastic Rico. Now would be a smart time to hold her back…because after admitting all this sacrifice just to hear Rico blow it off like it meant nothing, Amara was not about to tell him off…oh no…she was ready to kill him.

 

Editor's note: *rings fight bell*

 

Tanner wouldn't hold her back though... he wasn't in a state of mind to do so... not with Amara's emotions as we as his own engulphing his mind. He clenched his fists and knawed his lip as he backed up some trying not to trip or anything as he tried to get away from Amara and her emotions before he did something that he'd regret. His heart was thumping in his chest before he shook his head and let out a loud scream before starting to sob softly, hands coming to his hair, injured shoulder aching a bit as he dropped to his knees trying to create an invisible sphere around himself like Alexandra was trying to teach him... it wasn't working though.

 

Rico heard the snarl but didnt think anything of it at the time. He scratched a his chin with a yawn before looking back at the wwater

 

Without Tanner to stop her, Amara jumped down to the pool, landing easily on her feet. The snarls never ceased to leave her lips, a challenging noise to the ears of panther. She'd prowl outside the grotto, snapping in a fit of loud growls and hissing, the sounds being the equivalent of curses deliberate enough to provoke Rico in their native feline dialect.

" You spineless ungrateful coward! If you want to run away from a conversation that badly, just say so!"

  

Rico was insulted at this and this was just nature but panthers werent an animal to turn down such calls. He angrily growled before turning over and walking through the falls to meet the call. He growled the yellow feline eyes on her as his claws came out. He opened his mouth in what almost looked like a smile but it was to show his canines in intimidations as he snarled back angrily

 

Amara knelt for a moment at the reply, not out of fear but merely bracing herself in case he charged. She raised her left hand, presenting her natural claws to the male as a message she would not be backing down to him. Her rank was important, and Amara had every intention of making that message clear in the hisses she returned.

 

Tanner tugged on his hair before shaking his head, shouting loudly, "STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" His claws dug into his scalp as he growled out, tears slipping down his cheeks as his eyes became rimmed with crimson, pupils getting larger as he stared at the ground.

 

Rico crouched down snarling and snapping. He indeed had no doubt she wouldnt back down but neither was he. When he was created his scientist wanteed to see how far a panther could be fused into a human. So his willingness to accept a challege was high. He continued the showing of his canines ignoring the pleas to stop. Hisses escaped his lips as he looked at her . His body lowered but he wasnt going to charge first with his size one bad charge could take him out the fight

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans)) Im not backing down....You wanna fight me thenfine I tried to walk from this issue

 

Amara took advantage of this hesitation, lunging forward to attack his midsection. A quick sweep with her left hand lashed out at the male panther, both hand and tongue desiring blood. The howling reflected her disgust in him, again repeating taunting growls and roars intent to demean him. In the wild, such noises were reminiscent of a female disapproving a weaker suitor.

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) You did nothing of the sort! You pouted and turned your back like some angry child at nursery. Pathetic...why did I waste my time trying to treat you at all?!

 

Rico started back before a burning came across his stomache. Fresh claw marks began to bleed which didnt make the male panther too happy. He snarled loudly his right hand camed down in a club like motion hoping to rake his sharp claws down the side of her cheek. A snarl given taunting the female panther that most would take as an insult to their sex in the big cat world. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her neck . He snapped again in her direction before giving a call as if he claimed superiority in this battle

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans))Now you insult me? And spill my blood...FINE..... I did not ask you to fight........I told you to leave me alone...But you keep on talking. I told you not to treat me so you wasted your own time I asked you not to!!!!!

 

Tanner 's fingers dug into his scalp as he just stared at the ground, breath coming out in short little gasps as his usually golden eyes became crimson, pupils getting bigger and smaller as he stared at the ground. His claws were finally removed from his scalp as he slowly got to his feet, eyes narrowed dangerously as he moved towards the stairs, limping slightly but not seeming to be in any pain anymore.

 

Amara was not about to let Rico actually mark her in this fight. She braced for the impact which sent her flying rudely into the waters of the pool. Sitting up immediately and panting heavily, Amara spit the bit of blood from her mouth that was caused by the bruising. Several hisses went let out in Rico's direction. Running some water over her face, she adjusted her stance, flicking her ears in retaliation at Rico's bold proclamation of victory. She launched herself in the air this time, intent on landing a swift right hook to his face.

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) If you wished to die so badly, just say so weakling! I won't have you infecting the entire family for your fucking pride! I'll have you show some damn respect before this is over.

 

Rico snarled as his swipe hit but it was short lived as he saw her lunge. His head snappedto the side as he tumbled meeting not water but just more rock. He groaned as his body met the hard surface but he shook his head moving back into his stance. His face now with fresh claw marks he could let that go. He lunged forward upon getting up his face and belly burned but his right raised a claws attempting to slam and rake hard at the top of her heard and forehead heavy snarls as he did

(( Patman Ballinger: couldnt*))

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans)) I dont get infected like most. If I get a cold its small and its not serious. I respected you until you threaten me and shock me....You know im still shook from the last time I was left behind by packies *Swipe* But no instead of just leaving me be you want to be an aggressor....I refuse to kill you but ill defend myself and make sure its know you started this!!!!

 

arwen Eiren wanders into the den arms crossed over her chest , her small eyes widen as she could see the fight , ears pinningb back against her head standing there"m.....mama!"she saw Rico attacking her mama, She lets out a very feirce, more then she even knew she could do growl"LEAVE MY MAMA ALONE!!"she yells at the top of her lungs"LEAVE HER ALONE!!"She screams

 

Tanner

Tanner Blackheart: [[uuh -_-"]]

Patman Ballinger: ((Tanner great post lol))

Amara Parmelee: ((It moved me to tears, Tanner. Such powerful words...hahaha))

Tanner Blackheart: [[T_T ur so mean]]

 

Amara screamed as her hair was caught, the weight of Rico's arm throwing her sideways in the rocky walls. Trickles of blood ran down the side of her face as she heard Arwen's voice. For once, she went back to English. "Arwen, you stay back! I want you nowhere near this!" She pushed herself off the wall, hoping to land a strong blow to Rico's already injured midsection. The roars of defiance and her authoritative stance would speak volumes to the male panther.

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) Learn well, Rico! This is a pack, not a pride. The elders and leads are to be respected, not taken for granted with they are most convenient for you! You insulted the medics of this family and I will not stand for it! I've tried to be supportive and yet all you're done is behave like an infant!

 

Patman Ballinger: ((Yea me an amara are friends again it was such an inspiration lol jk

arwen Eiren: (damn i didnt see tanner's post)

 

Zhin Murakami wakes up, she streches and yawns looking around if she was alone. Zhin touches a spot behind her left ear and a mask morphes out her chaw around her mouth and nose, the last hing she remembered before she felt aslepp, was hearing Amara saying something about a virus.

 

Tanner had since moved down the stairs, ears plastered on his face and an almost strained, maybe pained expression on his face. He wasn't in pain, however, just fighting... with himself as he moved towards the fighting. His eyes went immidiately to Arwen as he growled out, "If you have your phone... call the pack now... tell them to get their asses here before the den gets smeared with blood..." he says, not seeming to care that his words might scare the child. He turned to Rico and Amara at this point and growled low in his throat, claws out, blood dripping down the sides of his face from the wounds he'd inflicted on himself, crimson eyes getting darker.

 

arwen Eiren pulls out her pda , pushing a button on it and screams into it top of her lung"RICO AND MAMA MARA TEARING EACH OTHER UP! NEED HELP!THEY WONT STOP FIGHTING!"

 

Rico moved forward to follow up his hand coming down again clawing at the top of her head again as another burn emerged from his midsection. New claw bloody marks emerging. The stupidest thing someone could do what intervene in a big cat fight. They were fights that couldnt be broken up and could get the one breaking it hurt. He snarled the pain in his stomacheand lower section growing. He roared out bringing his hand up turning waiting for her next attack

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans))I didnt insult the medics. the medics have my respect for the ones I have met. Notice my comments were to you not the medical staff. I said leave me be....LKeave me be........But now you come to fighting. i understand respect but yea anger and worry can make a person abit angry. Now look your cub pleads for you to stop but instead you want to fight.

 

arwen Eiren heart races as she waits for someone to come help to knock sense into the two fighting. Her little heart raced, she started breathing quickly"stop fightging stop fighting!"she growls , her eyes watering up"DONT HURT MY MOMMY!!"

 

Zhin Murakami comes downstairs following the fighting noises, she sees Amara and Rico fighting? What the.. she tabs Tanner at his shoulder "What is going on?!" Looking over to Arwen seeing the kid all frighten

 

Amara kept her body low to the ground before swinging a leg out to trip him. The roars only got louder as if trying to drown out any voice of reason. This was beyond a personal fit for her; this was the natural way of showing her stance on this issue. Wild howls filled every corner of the den as Amara explained herself in a tongue only Rico would understand.

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) How quickly you forget your words from yesterday. "Fuck it…I'll do what little I can do since no one cares." Of course we cared! We've always cared! But no, you were too stuck up in your own damn impatience to see it! To hell with earlier, that's why I yelled at you yesterday and for your rude remarks, that's why you were shocked!

 

I'll comfort Arwen after this…after you apologize for trampling over our sacrifices! Mitka was traumatized from her attack and is still in training. Tanner was tortured by the UAC just a few days ago! I was with my wife…I'm sorry it took so long, but you have no right to look down on someone's attempt to help you!

 

Tanner knew he couldn't let their fight continue much longer... his own fight getting difficult. He couldn't hold the other back much longer if this continued but even considering leaving made it ten times worse to fight the other so he gave up on that idea completely as his eyes narrowed. It was either stop them from fighting... or better yet... knock at least one of them out before all hell broke loose... The moment he felt a tap on his shoulder, however, his eyes narrowed and he wipped around, claws going straight for Zhin's chest as he growls out loudly, eyes getting even darker.

 

arwen Eiren sdcreaming top her lungs"STOP FIGHTING!"her body shook breathing quickly smelling her mama mara's blood, ears pinned back against her head"no more no more!!FAMILY DONT FIGHT!!!!"She sways as she stands

 

Rico got off balance from her foot and snarled as he didnt trip fully seeing he was on all fours. He backed away shaking his head as his cheek and stomache bled. His snarls and roars echoeing loudly in return to hers a form of panther speaking that they only could understand

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans)) That noone was directed to you not that it makes my words better. From what I saw you were the only medic with a fucking pda ON!!!. I know tanner was gone !!!

 

Akiel Martian came running in catching the sight before him, emerald hued eyes shifting already into that darkened feral jade, "..ah 'ell na..", he shook his head, "..this'll na do..", his left mechanical arm raised, coming to be pointed upon Mara and Rico. the arm straightened and that small latch at the palm would open, his right, moved for its respective cerberus gun, "..cover yer ears, Arwen..", he said as he pulled it and raised it high, and ear splitting shot of a fifty cal depleted uranium shell would go off, resonatting the air about them with the sound, Syle's ears flattened agains his head before he growled out, "..S'ENOUGH ALL O' YE'S!!"

 

Jayde Rasmuson enters and observes the situation at hand.. walking closer to Arwen she puts her hand on the little one's head, a gesture that had become familiar with her. Taking morenote to Amara, Jaydesucked in a deep breath then exhaled.. looking about to the others, emerald glance finally resting 'pon Syle, who was.. fuckin' shit up.. oh shit! Jayde kind of ducked then watched the effect this had..

 

Zhin Murakami is a little surprised at Tanners move, as his claws dig into her chest she reaches up with her left mechanic hand griping around his wrist, she looks straight into his eyes, purring softly "Shhh..." then she heard Syle yelling and autmaticly ducks pulling Tanner down with her.

 

Amara let out a last minute reply, her tail hairs flaring angrily as she sounded more like a large angry domestic cat before the sound of Syle's gun shut her up. The blood dripping from her forehead didn't seem to bother her though the immediate ringing in her ears was a different story. Her hands rose to cover her ears from the stinging. "…was deafening us really necessary?" she whimpered.

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) I was saying goodbye to my lover whom I haven't had a proper sit down with in days! It's not like I just got the message and ran off; we were having a meal…Tanner's PDA was destroyed, and even if he could hear the feed, he was in no position to help!

 

arwen Eiren hears the gun going off and lets out a scream, and then well between watching her mom fighting , hearing the gun go off, the poor 5 year old fainted

 

Rico snarls his ears slam down against his head as thee sound of the gun erupts. His cheek and belly were bleeding but his panther communication continued

Patman Ballinger: ((trans))I didnt know you were with her!!! Ok im sorry but I lost alot and It got to me when it seemed like she was dying!!!! So dont turn the whole medic team on me when I spoke to you....And I know tanner wasnt on the line so you were the only one i was speaking to......Now ya daughter needs you more than this fight

 

Rennat would have winced as he's grabbed by the wrist and pulled down but this wasn't Tanner anymore... this was Rennat who felt no pain. He stared into Zhin's eyes as she shushed him, dark crimson eyes focusing on her and nothing else. He focused his mind on her, blocking out some of the emotions from the other's, dark eyes getting a bit lighter as he gives a bit of an almost pained expression, still fighting the other personality back. He winced quite a bit, tensing against the other at the shot, ears ringing as he growls out.

[12:55] Tanner Blackheart: [[Tanner would have not Rennat would have -_-"]]

 

Akiel Martian: "When it seem that no one be listenin' ta a worried child n' oi get a text, aye oi think it be..", he said and lowered the gun, wagging it between Rico and Amara with his next words, "..what the fuck be all this about, we're supposed ta be family n' oi walk in ta ye' both tearin' at one another..", he holstered the cerberus gun. Mechanical left arm lowering too as the latch closed, "..what's all this, y'all two have beef, ye' should'na be scrappin' in the den..ye' be scarrin' the wee ones.."

 

Zhin Murakami slowly straightens up after Syles shoot, her right ear rings and is flaten on the head, she pulls Tanner up wither, her mech hand gripping his right wrist like a bench vice. She continues staring at him, noticing the change in his eyes she purrs softly again "Shhhhhh...."

 

Amara backed away, moving to check on the collapsed Arwen. "Sweetheart…Arwen…are you alright?" She didn't feel any now pains, so she knew she had not been shot. Ignoring Syle a moment, she mews her final response to Rico. They had reached a relative understanding though no one understood that. She'd gotten the apology she'd been after and the male knew now why she'd been so cross. Not the traditional means of talking things out. "It was in regards to some events concerning yesterday. We've settled it for the most far though. Sometimes, between panthers, it's easier the converse that way. I'm sorry for scaring any of ya…"

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) If you read your messages again you would have seen my reply "I'm in Madres with Adagio...but I'll head over to the den now." *walks to Arwen* I would never turn the family against you over a petty argument like this, but I'd appreciate if you thought a little better of us.

 

arwen Eiren had a huge bump on her forehead a bit passedout to respond at the moment, poor kid got the hell scaredout of her

 

Rico shakes his head free of blood before dipping it in the water. The had worked it out abit and Rico got how he felt out and gave his sorry. He did like having other panthers in the pack to the fact they could talk in their own way but only bad that their language no matter what will look hostile. He dipped his head in the water a sting aas he felt his face stretched when he opened his mouth gettin g a few sips of water. He sighed gave one last few growls before coming uo and sitting on rock

Patman Ballinger: ((Trans)) Im sorry......Its just been a bad run of events.....Hope ovetime this issue heals

 

Rennat 's heart was racing as he continues to fight back the other personality, the battle getting easier as he focuses on Zhin, though he could still feel the quickly dimming anger coming from the two who'd been fighting but his focus was on Zhin, not seeming bothered by the grip on his wrist, though still seeming to 'wince' every now and then as he continued to fight with the darker personality. Thank god Arwen had managed to get help... or things could have ended badly.

 

Akiel Martian frowned, shaking his head, "..will take a whole lot more ta scare me than two brawlin' Panthers..", in truth, male panther hybrids worried him, always, Dax was one and Rico another, Panthers were strong cats and possibly the only spcies of Hybrid able to go toe to toe with Syle. The Wolf had size and strength and if it wasnt for that, well. He certainly would have to be worried then, he looked from Amara to Rico, and frowned, he shook his head. Then looked to Tanner, "..oi dun' feel like seein' Rennat ta'day lad..ye' keep 'im locked away nice n' tight.."

 

Zhin Murakami nods at Syles words, she was glad the fight was over. Zhin holds her gaze straight for Tanners eyes purring deeper as she tightens the grip on his wrist a little more once more she hushes at him "Shhhhhh..." her eyes glowing.

 

Amara cradled the child in her bruised arms, the blood covered claws long retracted. "It was not out of violence if that explains it further. Just a really primal form of a heart to heart." She sighed as she held Arwen, a long hiss and low growling spoken to Rico again ending in a faint smile. "Still, two Pack members fighting is not something to be encouraged. As the Medic Lead and as an elder, I should know this."

Amara Parmelee: ((trans)) I'd like to help you if you'd just let me…I know how

horrible it can be to be held powerless and captive in a cell…tortured to the point of madness. We can talk another time…when you are ready that is.

 

Rico listens to the growls and nods his head giving a growl in return. He shakes his head rapidly his hair sending water and blood that dripped from it flying. He stretched his tail swung slowly as he looked around then back to his claws covered in blood and strands of hair. He began to pull at them cleaning them as he sat there

Patman Ballinger: ((trans)) Yea whenevers' fine...But now les both calm down and you can make sure your cubs is ok

 

arwen Eiren groans her blue eyes flickering opening letting out a yelp hand to her head she starts to cry

 

Rennat 's ears twitches at Syle's words as he lets out a bitter laugh, "sorry... but Tanner's not in control... hasn't been since shortly after those two morons started fighting... It's not me you should be worried about though... Just be glad i'm around to stop 'the other one' from paying you all a visit..." he lets out, having finally looked away from Zhin, eyes now Rennat's usual crimson color though his heart was still racing as he speeks again, "It may be best if Tanner stays away from the pack for a while... if things like this are going to happen... it's not safe for him or for you... Not till he's got things worked out."

 

Akiel Martian looked them all over again, sighing, from Amara behind him to Rico, to Zhin and Tanner, "..glad that be over at least..", he said shaking his head, if that was talking, he wondered for a moment, if Keira, with her desire to always have a scrap with Syle, was her way too, of talking? Was there a message to be read in the way, Keira faught? Strange as it would seem, but Amara and Rico, had given Syle something to think on, mayhaps sometimes, later, he would pull one of them aside and ask to learn more on Panther type Hybrids. It could help him with his own, oddly chaotic relationship, "..aye, Mara, ye' should..as should Rico..", his voice was calm, soft, there was no blame being pointed at anyone, "..mayhaps next time, ye' both need a heart ta heart it could be..away from the wee ones eyes?", he certainly wasnt one to go against instinct. After all it was what kept Syle alive this long, instinct, "..oi gotta go, y'all..please..stay safe..", he said before moving, "..aye, dun wanna see that one either..", he said plainly to Tanner before walking out.

 

Amara immediately tried to calm the child. "It's okay. I'm right here, Arwen." She'd rock back and forth gently to assure Arwen the dust had settled. She'd only nod to Rico, agreeing that the argument of sorts was over. "Rennat…kindly don't call us morons. And if Tanner's mind needs a break from the family and what not for a while, please go ahead and leave. We had no intention of harming tanner nor sparking you to the surface." She groaned at Syle's words, but knew that if her own elders were here, they'd be furious with her.

 

arwen Eiren buries her head into Amara's shoulder and clings, little tears rolling down her cheeks "no more fighting."

 

Rico groans as his wound stretch when he lays down. He yawns hanging his leg and arm over into the water and looks around "We need a tree in here" he mumbles before closing his eyes just resting for a moment but nit sleeping

 

Zhin Murakami looks from Tanner to Syle and back. Slowly she lets go of Tanners wrist, looking down on her chest, she curses as the green was darkened with blood, she did not notice till now. "Dammit, this suit was only a few days old" she grumbles to her self, then she looks up saying loud "Everybody ok so far?"

 

arwen Eiren looks up" Kitty scratching post?I can buy one uh huhs."

 

Rennat looks calmly over to Amara, heart beat starting to return to normal as he lets out calmly, "sorry... still a bit tense. We need to keep stuff like that away from Tanner right now... a new, very dangerous, personality has 'appeared' and it's not a friendly one. His name is Tearnn... and he will tear and anyone or anything that's in the vicinity," he explains as he moves to stand slowly, looking to Zhin, "sorry for attacking you."

Tanner Blackheart: [[at anyone]]

 

Amara shook her head, pausing to pull a cleansing wipe from her bag. "No..no..I know what it looked like but we weren't fighting; we were arguing at best. Mommy's a panther, and that fighting you saw was how panthers argue or voice their opinions. It's not the most civil of sights." She'd hug the girl tightly before attempting to clean her forehead. "Rico, try the beams of the ruined building rather than a tree in here. The city ledges are good also for relaxing." Rennat's description was disturbing at best. "Where did this persona grow from? The UAC attacks…or is it better not to ask?"

 

That had to be one my most enjoyable RPs to date

May 2002. "The Met Cafe", Providence, RI.

 

From "the tour diary":

monday, may 13, 2002 - providence, ri

 

from pete:

 

woke up very well rested in vivek and tracey's pad in the sky. their turtle rex was staring at me out of his aquarium home, and I stared back at him wondering what he was really thinking. this was to be my last week of the tour so I was starting to feel a little melancholy (lights go down, violins play in background). as much as I miss lil the kill and the kids, I going to very much miss being in tour mode and playing w/watt and jer. at this point in the tour we've become a pretty well oiled machine and the shows have become much less scary and quite a bit tighter. hopefully things will fall into place when I get back and I'll be able to do the tour in the fall (it'll be a big step for me but I am forever the optimist).

 

vivek walks us back down to street level and we leg it on over to the lot where we parked the boat. watt pays the damage ($28.00!). we bid goodbye to and thank him and we're off towards providence. the sky is very dull and gray and the rainy weather hasn't let up yet (it's been with us since north carolina). we get out of manhattan relatively easy and I try to take some snaps as we go down FDR drive but there's too much rain and haziness to take anything remotely viewable. I am excited as I'm going to meet joe d. (aka joe depasquale) for the first time. mike's been telling us about him the whole trip and he sounds like an interesting cat. joe d. worked for the mayor, buddy ciani, who is being brought up on corruption charges and all kinds of other shit, it's front page news up here and it looks like they're going to put this cat away for a long time (they've got video of him and some of his crew accepting bribes. they called it "bringing the pizza and soda"). joe is also running for town council in providence (it's his fourth try).

 

we pull up to the pad around 3:00 (a place called the met cafe). parking is really scarce but we found a spot about a block away from the club, the only downside being that we would have to leg all the tools a good distance to the club in the rain (though it wasn't raining too hard at this point). nobody was at the club yet and we had about two hours til' loadin so me and jer went in search of some chow. we find a little deli right down the street from the pad called nick's, I order a tuna sandwich while jer orders some gluttenous item. the chow was very good. we finish eating and just then it starts to pour outside (buckets) so we dwcide to go back to the boat. as we near our spot we notice a big tourbus and trailer parked in front of this old theater that is a couple of doors down from the met, looks like there was another band playing right next to us so of course we had to go check it out. there were some cats that looked like crew members standing outside so jer asked them what band it was. "monster magnet" the cat replies. the guys name was ben and he was on the magnet crew. the place they were playing is called lupe's and is connected to the met and owned by the same cats only it's bigger. we watch as the cats load out all of the tools. those guys had so much equipment it was amazing! jer goes into the pad to ask if we can park behind the tour bus as there is a large space blocked off and our equipment will get drenched in the rain. the cat (I think he worked for lupo's) tells jer "no, I guess you're shit out of luck as we have another tourbus coming." well thanks for helping out the little guy you fucking putz, (fwiw, the cats on the monster magnet crew cool to us). watt goes to talk to someone inside and gets the same speil, only this guy tells him "well you know man, big band, big bus, little band, little bus, whatever. one of the crew cats says we can park the boat in back of the bus to unload, but we have to move it again. watt decides against this as we would probobly end up losing our coveted space and end up having to park much farther away. the downpour lets up a little but it's still coming down pretty good but we opt to do the load-in anyway. we get about half the tools into the pad when it starts coming down like niagara falls. me and watt make a run for it and jump in the back of the boat and shut the hatch. after about five minutes there is a slight respite in the downpour (it's still coming down but not so agro). we finish the loadin and set up the tools on stage after which the soundman (john) shows up. the monster magnet's lighting guy shows up to take a peek and rap w/watt and gives him a cd of his own band. the cat (tim is his name) is really cool and asks us what time we're going on. "11:00," watt replies. "well doesn't that eat a bag of dicks" he replies (monster magnet is going on at the same time). he said he and a bunch of his crew mant to come in an check it out if they can. watt says "sure, no problem." some of the crew come in to hear our soundcheck and applaud approvingly when we're done. me and jer are hungry so we go in search of some chow. jer wanted to go to this small sushi place but it was closed, so we find a little cuban joint next door. the chow is very kind and we munch happily. we head on back to the pad and once again it is pouring so we run in quickly. monster magnet is in the midst of their soundcheck and we check it out for a while. not really anything to pique our interest so we go back into the met. jer goes to chimp diary on his puter while I sit in the dressing room chimping in longhand. cobra does their soundcheck and they sound very good. I continue my chimping as I am way behind.

 

I hear cobra start the set and stop my chimping. I decide to lay my head back and give 'em a listen. they are raging as always and the crowd is extemely raging. I peek outside the door and the place is packed! I can't believe it. monday nite, pouring rain and these cats brave the elemants to see the show. much respect to all of you. the cobra's do their last song so I go to wake up the chief. I inforrm him (as jerry informed me) that there are twice as many people at our show as there is at monster magnets' (I felt bad for them and the road crew having to do all that work for naught but somebody on their crew definitely tossed some bad karma our way and it came back to 'em). the chief is incredulous but shares my feelings about the bad karma thing.

 

mike does the segueway into the first song and my rig takes a dump once again. shit! I yell for mike to stop and start to do a spiel while I try to get the machine going again. after about five minutes I am successful and we continue with the set. the crowd is very understanding about the glitch and they give us much love and enthusiasm during the set. to compound my nervousness about my rig, john the singer of cobra verde has issued us a challenge; we have to do a spiel about the tour in croatian (watt tells me to say something about what I learned on my first tour; sage advice he calls it). I am really nervous about it but watt tells me it'll be a great character builder so I can't possibly back down. after we do the "big bang theory" watt stops us and tells me to do the spiel. I'm furiously thinking about what to say so I calm myself down and give a little preface to the crowd in english and then continue in croatian, first thing I say I learned is not to drink any bottles of yellow liquid in the boat, second, never ake the captain before he's suppposed to be awakened, third, the answer my friend is not blowin in the wind, and fourth and more important (I said this in english also), is that all over the country, no matter where we've been, people are pretty much the same. there are the good, and there are the bad. I think the people dug on it very much and I'm glad I did it (mike liked it too). the remainder of the show went off without any glitches and I felt really good about the gig (accept for the rain). joe d. came up and introduced himself and introduced me to "mahk" (mark) whose pad we were crashing at. joe d. and his crew helped us load up the boat and we steam off to "mahk's." I'm a little wired up still so I read some of the tour diaries on the hoot page until the sandman hits, after which I konk. hard. laku noc sviraci...

   

from jer:

 

I awake in the room vivek set up for us and hop in the shower. very nice pad he has. inherited from his parents a few years ago, now shared w/tracy. I enjoy the view of the city from the corner windows and pet murf the kitty a little. I grab my goods and vevek walks us down to the boat. I nap a hot cocoa from a street vender and catch up at the parking lot. we thank vevek and shove off towards conn.. good timing for a depart and no traffic problems getting out of the city. ny can be nightmare at any time. once clear of the metro area the country side changes to a more rural surrounding. I rest some as we pass into conn.. the state's get smaller in new england so crossing 'em becomes a shorter journey. in no time rhode island comes into view. I watch as pete has difficulties w/directs as usual. the downtown area fortunately is small and the met is found w/just a couple turns. parking here is lame and mike get lucky w/a spot on the same street. someone put up some barriers in front of the club not allowing anyone to park. it's now raining and I see the writing on the wall. gear soak! before loadin pete and myself grab a bite at the deli on the corner. cheap sands. and a dry place to kick for a while. we return to throw the gear and a tour bus is parked in front of the lupo (club next door). we go to examine the deal. monster magnet is playing the big room tonight and I watch as they discharge the piles of equipment. some guy named ben talks some and is bummed that he has to work the merch. for the magnet and can't see our show. a good 1/2 hour goes by and still the gear is being unloaded. I use the door to enter the met from the side. looks a little different from the show of last time. more space for the peoples. searching out an employee of the joint I inquire about parking the boat in front of the club. there's a couple dudes claiming the status and have no trouble telling me I'm "shit out of luck." the rain falls harder. we get the gear and huff it in the downpour. I'm soaked, pete soaked, mike soaked, gear soaked! after all the stuff is in the boss man arrives and informs us that we could have parked in front and the pions don't know their dick from their ass. I towel my drums and get the set up on. the cobras show and have the same soak issues. w/the check concluded I tell pete of a good sushi pad a block and we dash in the rain to chow. of course today's the only day of the week their closed and we opt for a cuban diner next door. it's cheaper and not bad so no complaints. I decide to chimp at the bar tonight and get inspiration from the rock.

 

I told by mike prior to our set that a local cat named ted will be jamming w/us on two wire songs from the jom and terry show set. pete doesn't know 'em so it's a three piece jam. I'm kinda scared playing 'cause the last time through I had a tough gig. kel was in town and I had some focus problems. this one I'm gonna be on the ball. things roll good and only a small hiccup on bursted man. the set ends and for the encore mike brings up ted. he starts the tune and its much slower than we ever did it. I try to adjust and end up speeding the tune along. mike yells and hisses to slow back to ted pace. I'm so used to doing it faster it's kinda autotron. w/the second tune I stay on the beat and it keeps together. thanks ted for doing a good job. pete returns and the shows finished. I kick and rap w/sean of prov. the kind fellow who put us up last time. he informs me we can't stay at his pad any more 'cause mike smoked so many cigs in the house the smell lingered for 4 days. the wife didn't dig that one t'all. joe depasquale comes to say hi and I meet his pal mark (were staying w/him). joe promises to take us to breakfast in the morning at some grease spoon.

 

w/mark in the boat we shove off to the crash pad of the night. on the road out of town the rain starts falling hard and visibility diminishes to near blinding levels. mike takes it slow and we navigate off the highway safely. mark's pad in sight we park and I grab my shit fast as not to get totally soaked loitering outside. I'm offered a couch in a separate room and mark hooks me up w/an electric blanket. warm and cozy I will be. I rap a few minutes w/kel and make sure all is well w/her return. her ma was a no show at the house for mothers day and she's feeling a bit lonely. I cheer her up and give her my best reassurance speech. a strong girl she is and it'll take a lot more than a flaky episode to knock my lady down. be good sweetie. I now lay me down to sleep.

   

from watt:

 

pop and say hi to murphy the orange cat. he seems tongue-tied. he loves the fingers raking him soft on the back though. I look out the window - whoa, what a drop - straight down! watt's got vertigo and it spooks me, even w/the glass there. what a view though looking straight out, it's towards brooklyn and I'm transfixed for a while, just thinking and thinking - nothing on purpose but just letting things naturally come to me. my head gets warm, gets airy. I hose off and then roust my guys so we can bail early, easier to make the escape from new york city. while they ready, I see the ny times on the table and there's an article on hindu nationalists in india. vivek's family's from india though most live in guiana now. I ask him what he knows about this. he's not that informed, he's been back there only once. I tell him about our name, the minutemen and one reason we picked it in the old days. there was this group of rightwing militant types called the minutemen in the sixties who threatened those who they thought weren't "american enough." we thought if there was another group w/the same name, people would get confused (obviously, we had a much different message) and that would dilute their nonsense. d. boon said those minutemen were reactionary and using the quote, "all reactionaries are paper tigers," he thought it was funny for us to be called that. funnier even, the punk band we started more than a year before the minutemen was in fact, called the reactionaries. it was for the same reason: to get people to challenge labels, messages, slogans, ideologies - all that kind of conflict. d. boon had a knack w/that sort of thing. I had a list of all these band names and he picked both of those from it - god, were most of them the silliest in the world. I'm can be pretty silly even when I think I'm so serious. I lose perspective and the outside gets a big laugh on my insides. d. boon had a good sense at taking on conflict in the social sense. damn, I wish he could've helped me w/the ones raging in my head. in a way, he did by helping me learn to express myself and force me to make myself more clear. d. boon always wanted a clear-headed watt and couldn't fathom why I would get things all so tangled up inside. he said I was too stuffed w/stress, that's why it showed in my music, my words and my way of interacting. he said I had my own industry of it in me - it's own economy, politics and religion w/it. d. boon was always very honest w/me. I loved him so for that, among other things. I could always count on d. boon not to shit me or pull punches when it came to how he felt about me. at the same time, he put so much confidence in me. I could never be scared being next to d. boon. well, the fear me be there at the chamber door, knocking away but he helped give me the strength to fight it. aahhh, I go on and on about him - god, how I leaned on that man...

 

we hoof back to the lot where the boat is - whoa, twentyeight bucks to park over night! at least the boat was safe so it's worth it. this is an expensive town anyway so it shouldn't be that much a surprise. it used to be nineteen dollars in the lot behind jimbo's on canal but those days are over, he moved to the northeast corner of manhattan, washington heights. he's getting married in august. things change, that's the only thing constant it seems. we say bye to vivek and his partner jim (they run a site called www.starpolish.com) and we shove off towards fdr drive, the fastest way north or south on the east side of manhattan. gray, gray skies and soon rain causing big chops in the east river. we drive by the united nations building but can't see it cuz of the cement overhang above the freeway. we go by roosevelt island and see the abandoned insane asylum on the southern part. I have a good laugh inside likening it to the state of things inside my head. we hit the triborough bridge and leave manhattan. bye-bye. I ask pete to man the barbie purse (ibook) and use the mapping software to help keep me true to our course. I've plotted a route through the bruckner expressway to I-95 which will take us through connecticut and into rhode island. he can't find it. I get uptight and keep telling him to look for the gray - look for the gray, the hatches. this flusters him. what's actually up is I'm using fucked up language to try to communicate him something in my head. the route is delineated by a pattern of crosshatch marks superimposed upon the roads involved but my words offer little help cuz they're confusing. I have to keep my attention on the wheel and can't really physically point it out to him so I get more and more like a nut trying to explain something that he can't see corresponding to what's on the screen. aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhh... jer finally saves the day by using his finger to show pete what I'm trying to mean. sorry, pete. what a fucking idiot, watt. aahh, I'm mad at myself for being such a bozo. right away, doors start to open and pete sees exactly what's going on. we're all together now. fuck, am I drama queen. surely not the stuff those born to lead are made of. I will say we do get quite a laugh out of it all when calm comes. I sure have a good crew. my mental state is for sure not so hidden to them. they are quite generous and forgiving gentlemen. no construction and relatively light traffic make for an easy glide into connecticut. I usually bypass this way for a northern bypass through the series of parkways where trucks aren't allowed by today we're in luck on the major corridor. not so lucky w/the weather, rain is coming down and gets heavier as we go east. we pass through stamford, new haven and new london - not able to see shit except the road ahead. pete gets a big bottle of gatorade out of the cooler. always, I write "no drink" on vessels used for holding piss but I must've spaced on this one - why else would've someone put it in the cooler. pete holds the jug up to the light. if this is gatorade, what flavor is this? sentiment at the bottom holds a clue. I tell pete to fuck that shit, I don't think it's gatorade. aahh, idiot watt - I can't space on the label thing again. jer finds a big bottle of hydrogen peroxide that has "contains piss" written on the label. I remembered writing on that one right away cuz the danger posed by it not being a clear bottle. jer just then finds another unlabled vessel, a one quart soup thing. there's a spoon in it and it's only half full. I know for sure that's piss cuz that it's probably the yat gaw soup from I chowed in asbury park, now kidney filtered. I grab my marker and write "no sips" on it. my guys laugh pretty hard at all this. we try to have a good time on tour. you can see how it brings out the little boy in one. like perry once told me, "mike, keep the child's eye." jer pops one of those tins of hot sauce 'dines that jumbones gave us and chows me w/them on some blue corn chips. thanks, jer. pete's busy catching up w/chimping. cuz of some bug in jer's 'puter, he's writing by hand in a composition book that danny's bro mike gave him. jer had to work hard to recover some days he lost. fucking machines. oh well, we're working hard to keep these tour spiels coming!

 

we pull into downtown providence and the rain's really coming down now and it's fucking cold. may thirteenth my ass - it's like november! another reason for coming early was so pete could check his shit out and try to find out what's going on and correct it. there's a big tour bus and trailers and shit bogarting most the curb. we're at the met cafe tonight and it's connected to lupo's heartbreak hotel, the place for I guess what you would call "the real rock bands." some dick tells us to park where we can, that's the way it is for acts who play the met cafe - in his words, "you're shit out of luck." ok, so we gotta load the gear through the fucking driving rain. so we do - no big deal, I guess. after years of shit like that, you get used to it. I've learned to laugh it off. the big rock band crew is quite nice though. the light man, tim, comes over to say hi and talk w/me - he's just read steve blush's "american hardcore" which has a bunch of quotes from me in it. he gives me a cd of his band, the ribeye brothers too. he wants to watch us play but the band he's working for (the big rock one) goes on at the same time. this bums him out and he tells me in a heavy jersey voice, "don't that eat a bag full of dicks?" totally, tim - you're a good man. the drum tech comes by and gives me his band's cd, lord sterling - he was gonna play w/me at the saint in asbury park but this tour came up (all these cats are from the jersey shore). the merchandise cat buys a shirt from me. I was gonna give tim a dos cd but he already had it so I give it to the merch man. they all take a picture w/me. all very cool peeps. so much different from a manager guy who confronts me and says "can I help you" in a very unfriendly tone - I was just trying to give these guys stickers of the boat. I tell him I'm playing next door and some nice man vouches for me. I've had trouble being the right looking person w/some of the big rock people. you know, "big band, big man - little band, little man" and that sort of thing. people who know who I am by what I do though get another perspective though, and much respect to them for the open hearts.

 

I get some corn chowder and a salad down the block. after a quick sound check w/john, it's to the boat to chimp diary and konk. god damn is it cold, I have two blankies on me to weather it. the drops pound the boat up good. it does calm some cuz the writing puts me in quite a state. a good stress relief though, I konk like that once I'm done. pete comes gets me when it's gig time.

 

I missed the verdes. I did get to talk w/john a bit when they got here. he's a newspaper writer too and wants to do a story on flannels some time. he likes what I know about them. he really wants me to record and record. I do too, it's been weird these last years - taking so long to make records. I'm going to get back to my minutemen roots and record every seven or eight months like we used to. can't believe I've gotten like I have. a weird phase in my musical life. I have bee touring like crazy though, that's a good thing. I just gotta make records like I used to. seems like I've fallen into a routine that involes us, me and the tour life, as a couple and not remembering to include each of us as individuals. this is a problem. we're so connected, there's no time for records! it's become quite overwhelming. I gotta get things back in the right perspective. shit, I've had enough experience w/it. this is something I'm gonna work really hard on. I've got such great teams to work w/in my life: the secondmen, the jom & terry show, the pair of pliers and the black gang. all mike watt bands that have cats I all very much love - all w/their own distinct voice and personality. I've got tons of music to do w/all of them. I love touring too - don't get me wrong. my love is always getting twisted up w/me, seems almost par. look at this, suddenly I'm questioning what I'm doing and where I'm going! first order of business: this gig, then this tour, then the sickness record... tonight's gig is where I must get to now.

 

the first part is kind of tough. for one thing, pete's organ fails right after I do my intro! oh no! he gets things going again quick though. whew... wonder what's up. I can tell he's very frustrated by this. hang on, pete. another thing is my guys keep jumping the gun on parts and that kind of cuts into the drama that sharpness accentuates. these parts are straight time anyway and they should wait for me, not to sound like a dictator or something but this will make things pop out better. this happens when material gets a little too familiar. I have to admit I fucked some words also, losing a little nerve too but nothing like brooklyn or manhattan. it's ok though cuz we start getting it much together by the third tune. after "the big bang theory," I have pete spiel to the folks. after sound check, I asked him to come up w/a spiel where he talks in serbo-croatian sage advice he's learned here on his first tour. I ask him about gettin from pedro to cleveland and dealing w/all the different people and towns. he speaks of watching what you drink from in the boat and that he's found people are people, no matter where you go and that's a righteous thing. great spiel, pete. the people really dig it. it's a good set, even w/the shaky start and these providence folks are very kind and good in spirit. very happening. encore time and we bring on ted, a local cat who asked me if he could bring his guitar and do a couple of wire songs. he starts off "ex-lion tamer" at the tempo it is on the original album but by the chorus, jer is speeding it way up. damn. I don't want to make it look like we're trying to steamroll ted. I'm kind of mad at jer - me and him are supposed to be a fucking rhythm section and listen to each other but I can tell it's more from him being scared and not confident about the tune. his hands kind of cramped up again too, it was a hard set for him. "three girl rhumba" is much better. thanks, ted. we bring pete back on and do what we usually do for the encore. I'm happy w/how the show went overall. much congrats to my men.

 

I sling much, the folks are quite kind. more thanks to me for chimping diary - wow, that's kind of a mindblow. you're very welcome. it seems all like so much self-therapy for me, hard to figure that folks can relate to what I'm rattling off. jer's and pete's are quite good though. joe d is here and gives me some flannel-lined jeans, like the ones his boy sonny has. thank you much, mister joe d! his bud mark is here too and invites us to konk at his pad. I go to settle the show and the lady tells me we had more people at our show than the big rock band - what?! damn. that's a trip. we have to load out in some real rain, what a nightmare. mark rides w/us and the sky is coming down in buckets - I gotta take it slow on the freeway and have the flashers on. I mean it's a fucking torrent. we make it to his pad in nearby warren safe though. it's that same pad I stayed in when I had the pliers w/me. what a time we had that night - the cat who just lived there was deported back to portugal and joe d was very driven to point out certain things in a video that got found there. it was hilarious. we have some good laughs remembering that night. it's a great way to konk.

 

They knew that the water was deadly.

 

And they still let mothers come home from the hospital with their newborn babies and mix that water with formula.

 

They let school children drink it.

 

They knew exactly what they were doing.

 

It was their 'dirty little secret.'

 

They knew that a cancer causing chemical called vinyl chloride had contaminated the well because the Environmental Protection Agency had told them that in a letter 1986.

 

I knew there was deadlier stuff in the water before I'd even seen that letter.

 

That letter was the 'smoking gun' that I held in my hands.

 

I couldn't believe that we'd found it.

 

My hands were trembling as I read it.

 

We also had the letter that they wrote back to the EPA that year... the one where they said they weren't going to use that well anymore.

 

I had those fuckers.

 

And I had 'em good.

 

They were right in the 'crosshairs' now.

 

Justice was a comin'.

 

And it looked like justice would be comin' on an express train.

 

It was just a matter of figuring out who I could get to pull the trigger.

 

I'd sent 'em a letter... the one the judge would 'compliment' me on later... after he had to black out the entire body of that letter to not 'inflame' the jury... when we all had to go back into his chambers he'd said something like 'Mr. Minder... in all my life as a judge I have never seen a more obnoxious letter written to a public official.'

 

It was hard for me to hide my pride right at that moment.

 

I didn't really want His Honor to see me beaming.

 

I think the judge was referring to the part where I told the Chief of Police that 'I've got your nuts in a nutcracker and I'm gonna keep on squeezing them unless you do the right thing.'

 

I think I mighta said something about them 'popping' too.

 

It's too bad the jury couldn't have read that.

 

I think they would have got a kick out of it.

 

Trials are such serious business.

 

The jury really looked like they needed something to wake them up.

 

Freakin' letter nearly got me charged with 'witness tampering' and blackmail... even I knew it was pretty close to the edge of reason.

 

It's just that I've always been one to 'push it' you know?

 

I'd always found that when you're tormenting your adversary that getting them to visualize what ultimately was gonna happen to them long before it happened would kinda fuck with their heads.

 

Two books really helped me to defeat these guys... Sun Tzu's 'Art of War' and the US Army Special Forces 'Guide to Psychological Operations.'

 

Sun Tzu was the master of 'the nutcracker.'

 

I just never figured when I wrote the damn letter that the 'nutcracker' was gonna be about sixteen federal agents storming the place.

 

Since then I've learned a little about taking down corrupt politicians... it's a lot like playing pool... it's all about the angles.

 

And you gotta have balls.

 

Lots of them.

 

There's no telling how many documents they'd shredded in the days and nights before the feds raided the place and walked away with sixteen big boxes of their records.

 

Somehow I'd figured that they'd been tipped off... they knew that the raid was coming.

 

I was tipped off and I don't even throw big fundraising dinners for the Attorney General.

 

That's how I got to be leaning on the side of my pickup truck smoking a cigarette across the street from the water department when the raid went down.

 

I wanted them to see me see them get their asses handed to them on a platter.

 

I was there to see the 'perp walk' and I'd even brought my camera.

 

The feds brought a bunch of guys in those blue windbreakers that said 'Federal Agent' or 'FBI' or 'EPA' on them.

 

I think they wear them so they don't shoot each other.

 

They also brought a Blackhawk helicopter.

 

I think that was just for 'effect.'

 

Nothing says you're about to get your ass kicked like a Blackhawk helicopter hovering over your office really low... and that cool helicopter goin' 'thumpety thump thump' overhead just added so much atmosphere to the whole shebang.

 

It was a little 'shock and awe.'

 

It felt really good to watch.

 

I mean... I had a score to settle... I'd told them that... I told them that if they didn't do right that I would take them down.

 

I told 'em that I'd 'make it my hobby.'

 

I taunted them with it.

 

This was personal.

 

They fucked with the wrong guy's family.

 

And there I was... leanin' on my truck smokin' that cigarette right in front of their office when it was 'showtime.'

 

I felt like such a badass.

 

And man... that helicopter was so cool.

 

It was like a bonus just for me I thought... because I love that shit.

 

What a show!

 

I didn't know until the news reporters pulled up that I'd just witnessed history.

 

A television reporter told me that this was the first time that the EPA had ever executed a search warrant on another government office.

 

But then the whole scandal was one of epic proportions.

 

This was the biggest intentional poisoning of people ever perpetrated in the United States.

 

That whole 'indian blanket smallpox genocide episode' doesn't count because the British did that and it really wasn't the United States yet.

 

Someone told me that the lights at Village Hall were on late into the night for the three nights previous to the raid.

 

I have no doubt that they were havin' a shreddin' party.

 

It was too late for them to hide what they'd done now.

 

Krista and I had our own box of documents.

 

Documents that Krista'd obtained by sending a bunch of Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests to both the city and the EPA.

 

They knew the hammer was about to drop on 'em.

 

They had plenty of warning,

 

The Mole and I knew who the fall guy was gonna be long before the raid had even taken place.

 

We made sure that The Fall Guy had gotten the message a few days before the FBI and the US EPA busted into the place.

 

The Mole told The Fall Guy what was coming down and he told The Fall Guy that he'd better start to copy the documents that exonnerated him and start to cover his own ass or he'd be the one going to prison for all of this.

 

When the feces hit the fan it was gonna be everyman for himself.

 

Panicked perpetrators would be cutting deals with the feds... jumpin' in front of each other to be the first one to get the deal made.

 

The Fall Guy was gonna need those documents really bad.

 

Supposedly he finished making his copies just before the raid.

 

I heard it was a full file box worth of documents that he'd made copies of.

 

The paranoia was soon justified when The Fall Guy said that he couldn't be sure... but that it looked like 'that' box of documents wasn't carted out during the raid.

 

It appeared that the entire box had dissapeared from the Water Department the night before.

 

This shit just kept getting deeper.

  

From the series 'There's Something in the Water' here on Flickr... www.flickr.com/photos/light_seeker/sets/72157627041317913...

              

Almost didn't post anything today. Exhausted. Which is never a good thing to be first thing in the morning. I think all the rock climbing and playing hacky sack with a balloon in the motel room have finally caught up to me. I feel like I've just taken some allergy medication, body doesn't want to move, brain doesn't want to think.

 

But I've got work, I've pretty much used up all my sick days, and I do so need the money.

 

So I go to work tired. Which is always a blast, as it's a trial dealing with some people when I'm running on a full tank, let alone chugging along on fumes.

 

I wish this shot was just a wee bit brighter, but I still dig it.

 

Shit, I need to eat breakfast. Enjoy the day, folks, try not to die.

After a long day:

It was the beginning of the night when the sky became darker than it was in the afternoon. We stopped at a lake, and decided to stay the night there so we could get some water and rest. “It is killing me what I know about Rikku. I want to tell Suki so badly the truth, but i’m worried she wouldn’t understand.” Yuni was at the edge of the lake. The others were resting in the tents already because it was getting late.

“Well, it is haunting me too. Somethings just have to be left hidden from other people. This is our story and we decide how to write it out, a tragedy, a drama, a whatever. ” I looked at the strange tree in the middle of the lake. All the other trees were on land, but this one was in the lake.

“Yes, you are right Tyler. Life is a big book the person gets to write by themselves. Every decision, every plot twist, every death, every romance.” Yuni stared into my eyes, and I stared into hers.

“The author of your life is always going to be you,” I informed Yuni. “The twinkle in her eyes revealed its smile before it came.” (Morgan)

“Only the author decides what is going to happen and what direction the story goes on.” We kept on referring life as some type of story, some type of book. Sometimes I felt like I was even in a story, but I knew that was my own.

“But, first the author needs something big to talk about. Something that would leave the readers hooked onto the powerful plot line.”

“The story also needs some unpredictable parts in it.” She ran into the lake to where the tree was because the water wasn’t deep at all. “Like, doing that for an example.”

“Hey, get back here!” I commanded. So, I went into the lake knowing it was the only way to get Yuni out of there.

“You gotta catch me!” She shaked her butt at me and stuck her tongue out. Yuni made a L with her fingers.

“Ha ha, very funny!” I ran up to her, but Yuni ran away before I could catch her in my arms.

“Yes, it is.” Yuni was being a smart aleck, but I was still madly with Yuni. Then I charged again when she was busy doing a wacky dance. We went back to staring into each other's eyes.

“Got ya, Yuni.”

“You did, Tyler.” She hugged me and pressed her head close to my chest. I wondered, did she like me too?

“Do I get a reward or something?” I questioned. I could hear my heart racing and Yuni’s was also. The reward I needed was Yuni’s love. She was perfect and amazing.

“Of course you do.” Yuni got off of my chest and back to staring into my blue eyes. Then she kissed me on the lips. “That is it.” That was by far the best reward I got in my life. So, I kissed her back.

“And, that is your reward.”

“For what?” There was nothing Yuni didn’t deserve besides all the bad stuff people could get.

“You got accepted to go on the journey.” I stroked Yuni’s cheek. And, she stroked mine also. This was all I wanted ever since I first saw her; I could die happy right then because I knew Yuni loved me back.

“Yes, I did.” She then kissed me back.

“That is for revenge for kissing me.” Yuni always loved to joke around, and then she loved me more than jokes.

“Our stories are together now.” But, when we looked over we saw Kirami staring at us, probably in awe.

“What the...” Kirami was shocked that YUNI and I were together now. Then I saw something behind Kirami.

“Kirami, look out!” I warned him. Yuni saw it too and backed away from it. It was Andrea-Rikku. “We have to get Suki out of the tents!” We all ran because Suki was in danger. MARKA was here, and nowhere was safe. The tents weren’t that far away, so we got to them in a matter of seconds.

“Suki, wake up!” Yuni yelled when she put her head in the red tent which Chun supplied us along with blankets.

“Why?” She rubbed her eyes when she got up.

“Trust us, this place is not safe.” Any second Andrea-Rikku would come and kill us all without mercy. So, Yuni pulled Suki out of the tent, and carried her. I noted, Yuni was stronger than I thought she was. Juneflower came seconds late, and Yuni put Suki on her dragon’s back. Then she motioned her dragon to come with her.

“Do you see her?”

“Where are you, you little b*stards.” We outran Andrea-Rikku, and were safe, at least for then.

“That was close.” I was still running, and so was Yuni and Kirami. Like usual Kirami didn’t say anything about the matter. He was a silent angel sent from Basil to watch over us.

“You think?” Yuni questioned. Suki was trying to sleep, but couldn’t with all the noise we were making. Then she finally went into a deep, deep sleep.

“Where are we going now?” I hoped that we could get a little rest before we had to continue on the journey because my feet hurt like heck.

“The rest of the journey we have to take. It is not safe to rest anywhere.” That was the answer I didn’t want to hear come from Yuni’s mouth. But, it was still the answer and what we had to do.

“Okay.” I tried to not sound annoyed or disappointed, but I sounded like both of those things. One thing was going on in my head, that was that Yuni loved me.

“Why isn’t it safe?” We woke up Suki with our little conversion we had. Suki’s eyes pierced my soul with it crawling through me to search for an answer.

“It’s nothing, Suki.” We all continued to walk and act like nothing had happened.

“Yuni, stop hiding stuff from me! I am eight, and I am old enough to know these things.” Suki didn’t buy Yuni’s lie at all. Well, Yuni’s lie made her more mad. “First, you leave my sister for dead. Now you keep on lying to me just because I am a kid.” She jumped off Juneflower, and walked away from us.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“If you won’t tell me, I am just going to go back there and figure it out.” Suki was walking the opposite direction until she stopped and glared at something. She ran to the left to where she was staring at.

“Wait up Suki!” Yuni and I shouted at the same time. Suki didn’t say anything, so we went to where Suki was running to. At this time, I really hated walking. Then we saw what Suki found, a well filled with golden dust.

“Isn’t this the dust that Luka had?” Suki questioned while touching the magic.

“Oh my god, it is!” Yuni got out a little bag she brought along and filled it up with the dust. “This could save Rikku.”

“Yeah, it can.”

“Yuni, I can save her.” Suki sketched out her hand so she could get the big of dust. And, Yuni gave it to her without questioning her actions.

“Yes, you can, Suki.” Suki hugged Yuni, and put the bag in her pocket. A little of the dust fell out and stained her black dress she had on.

“Did somebody say my name?” Andrea-Rikku flew to where we were at. “Yes, little pests did. Lucky that I am the terminator.” She once again laughed that menacing laugh.

“Wait for the right time.” Yuni put her hand on Suki’s right shoulder. “This is a one chance only thing.” Suki nodded her head and took a deep breath.

“Aren’t you going to fight me like real warriors?” Andrea-Rikku egged us on with insults.

“Yes,” I answered. I knew if we were fighting that would make Suki have the chance to put the magical dust on her mother’s body. Kirami got out his sword, and Yuni summoned her staff.

“Time to die.” She landed onto the ground because she was flying up in the sky.

“No, time to live.” Suki pretended to be a part of the fight by pulling out her axe.

“Every living thing is stupid. Mona is who you worship, but you should worship MARKA! We are the end.” I never really understood why people joined MARKA if everybody knew that it was totally evil, but I knew that the evil people joined but there was good people in there also. It puzzled me. “MARKA!”

“Polo,” Suki joked. The old tale of Marco Polo was now MARKA polo.

“You would take back what you said to offend the MARKA!” Rage was in Andrea-Rikku’s voice. Poor Rikku, I thought, she was trapped all this time inside her own body. So, to get Rikku back, we started to attack Andrea-Rikku.

“Die!” But, she wouldn’t die that easily. Suki was trying not to been seen by Andrea-Rikku when she was attacking and hurting us. But, then she poured all the dust from the bag onto Andrea-Rikku.

“Give my sister back!” All the black muck dropped out of Rikku’s damaged body.

“I’m back! I’m back! I am myself.” The first thing Rikku did was hug her own daughter. “You’re fine.”

“Yes, I am fine big sis!” Suki hugged her mother back. The two couldn’t get their hands off of each other.

“You are so strong, Suki. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever seen.” We all knew that Rikku meant emotionally strong because she was physically stronger than her daughter.

“You are too.” Rikku kissed Suki on the forehead. “I’m too old for that.”

“I know!” When I realized Rikku was going on the journey with us, I was really glad. She could protect Suki from anything. But, when we looked back at the well it had disappeared along with the stain on Suki’s dress. Rikku was wearing a white sleeveless v-neck, blue shorts, and a pearl necklace with blood on it. The blood on her necklace vanished when the well did.

“Guys, we have to check on Juneflower!” Yuni reminded us. So, we ran to see if the dragon was alright. But, when we got there Juneflower wasn’t there. “Let me summon her.” Nothing happened.

“What happened to Juneflower?” Suki asked. Well, the price to have a life was to lose another soul, and that was what happened. Juneflower was gone.

“No, no, NO!” Yuni kept raising her hand, but nothing came but the wind. “This can’t be.”

“Yuni, some things just have to happen.” Rikku comforted Yuni like she usually did.

“He was mine ever since I was five.” Tears went down Yuni’s face. She had just lost a great companion. “First Kenzie then Andrea and now Juneflower.”

“Do you want to stay here for a little while?” Rikku didn’t want anybody to be hurt.

“We must continue on with our journey. I must toughen up if I go against Envy.” She wiped away her tears, and went walking down the path to fate. So, the rest of us went down with her.

“Yuni, are you sure that you can keep on going like this?” Rikku was the closest to Yuni, mentally and physically. I was the second in line for the mentally close.

“I can keep on going. Like the ancient people of the world said, keep calm and carry on.” Yuni couldn’t stop or slow down or just walk; she was too focused on defending Envy.

“You aren’t a machine, Yuni, you need to stop sometime.” Rikku tried to stop Yuni because she had to relax. For Pete’s sake it was around hundred degrees outside and she didn’t get any sleep in a long time.

 

“Here is the Starlight lake guys.”:

Yuni pointed her finger at a large mass of clear water. Luckily, there was a bridge over it, so we could cross that. But, the lake was beautiful just like Yuni was. It glimmered in the daylight and had plant-like things in it.

“So, how much longer to our destination, and what is our destination?” Rikku asked. She was holding her little daughter in her arms.

“Our destination is Eve City. And, um, about four more hours.” Wait a minute, I wanted to say, you didn’t tell me we were going to Eve City to kill Envy. “It is where Envy hangs out most of the time.”

“Wait, that is why you were so shocked when you figured out I was from Eve City because that is where we are going.” I was putting the pieces together for everything that was being thrown at me.

“What! You’re from Eve City.” Kirami was shocked when he figured out I was from Eve City because nobody told him that. Nobody told Kirami anything about everything that was going on. “And, you knew about this?”

“Well, everybody but you knew about it.” Yuni told her friend the truth; even Andrea knew about me being from Eve City.

“How could you hide this from me?” Kirami was very mad about the fact we were hiding a big secret from him. “How is that possible?”

“I got sucked into Envy, and that was how I traveled a thousand years into the future.” Kirami said nothing else. He just went quiet again for the whole way.

“You know ,to brighten the mood I could tell you at night all of these plants light up, and it is supposed to be one of the most stunning sights in the world. People from all over come here to see them get lit up.” Okay, I didn’t care how unmanly it was, I wanted to see those plants get lit up ever since Yuni told me they could.

“Can we see it?” I knew that the answer was most likely a no, but I still wanted to see the plants light up the night sky.

“Sadly no. We have a quest to do that is more important than the most breathtaking sight in the whole freaking world.” Yuni went on the bridge, and it made a creaking sound. It was old so it made the annoying sound of creaking. “Come on guys!” She signaled us to come onto the bridge with her.

“We’re coming.” Rikku was still holding Suki and Kirami wouldn’t open his mouth. They both rushed on the bridge to catch up with Yuni and I. Then I looked at the lake wishing that we could see the lighting of the plants. The lights would boom on and millions would be watching in wonder.

“So, have you ever watch the plants being lit up?” I asked the group. All of them shook their heads to heads to answer my question. None of them seen the event for some reason, and I wanted to know why. But, I knew Kirami would stay silent and the girls would say they were always busy, so I didn’t ask. The rest of the group wanted this journey to be over with because they did not know I was going to disappear at the end of it.

“But, I want to go,” Suki said. Following it was a yawn; she was tired and Suki was also very young. It made me shocked that Suki was going on this quest with us with Rikku, Kirami, Yuni, or any of the others caring. The world has changed.

“Suki, we can go when we can, but right now we can’t.” Rikku was more tired than Suki. There were tons of circles under her eyes and she wouldn’t stop yawning. We needed to stop because they needed their rest, but I knew we must keep on going on foot.

“We are almost there, don’t worry.” Yuni reassured all of us, including herself. Then I felt like this quest was way overrated because if we could fly we would have been done with it already. The journey was easy, and we only ran into Andrea-Rikku on the way. But, this journey was to kill Envy, so I still went.

“Alright,” Suki jumped out of Rikku’s arms and sketched. “Let’s defeat Envy once and for all!” She ran way ahead of us like she wasn’t tired whatsoever. We catched up some time later.

“Look, it is the end of the bridge. Maybe we could rest somewhere.” Rikku was about to faint out of exhaustion.

“No, we have to keep going.” Yuni wasn’t giving Rikku a break even after she got processed by Andrea.

“Okay, Yuni.” Rikku fought to keep her eyes open, so she leaned on Kirami. Kirami acted like wasn’t there trying to sleep on his shoulder.

“Alright then. Next stop is Eve City.”

“We hadn’t even stopped ever since the lake,” I reminded Yuni.

“Yes, that is the point. We are not stopping until we reach Eve City and clean out the trash, got that people?” There was something strange going on with Yuni. One moment she is this fun girl and the next she was dead serious.

Hours later of walking non stop:

Two guys blocked our path to continue onward with our important journey. They had lots of armour, and they also had guns. “May we ask who you people are?” They both said are the same time.

“I am Yuni. A person trying to continue onwards so she can continue her quest.” Even Yuni was tired; all of the group needed to be awake if we were going to fight Envy, my father. The guard didn’t move out of our way, idiots.

“Do you know there are strong MARKA behind us. Many that enter do not come out.” Yuni tried to push her way through the idiots, but they stopped her and pushed her back.

“Yes, I do.” She summoned her staff once again, and all of us brought out our weapons of choice.

“You have been warned.” They moved out of our way so we could continue our journey. So, we all went by them and walked on, but when I turned around, I couldn’t see them.

“Do you know where those guys went?” I questioned while keeping an eye out for any MARKA.

“Probably on a break or something, nothing to worry about.” I didn’t believe what Yuni said. And, then I saw something move in a tree above us. A chipmunk went out and in again in just seconds. BOOM! Then a tree fell from behind to reveal two guys in armour hung.

“Nothing to worry about, huh?” Footsteps were everywhere my ear heard followed by an insidious laughter.

“Anybody want to play?” A Dark Priest jumped out with a chainsaw with blood all over it. The blades went in a circling motion along with the actual saw. Then three more Dark Priests jumped out; Andrea being one of them.

“Didn’t we destroy Andrea?” Suki asked.

“I guess not.”More Dark Priests came out of the trees, so we ran for our lives because there was a small opening. Hundreds of Dark Priests were after us, wanting something else to kill.

“Guys, we have to go faster.” Our legs were hurting, but we cared more about our lives than pleasure.

“We are going as fast as we can!” Rikku was holding Suki’s hand so she wouldn’t fall behind.

“They are coming closer!” I yelled. These things were super fast; faster than anybody that I knew. But, then all of the Dark Priests disappeared to god knows where.“That was way too close.”

“I thought we killed Andrea!” Yuni was panting along with the others and I.

“All of us did,” Rikku answered. She fell onto the ground and made a force field. “I am going to sleep.” Luckily, all of us were in the force field, so we could all fall asleep even though the sun was out.

Back on Nightmare Lane:

The kid was there, watching me. Its eyes stared at me without a single blink. “You again.” I hated the ghost that kept following me; it scared and annoyed the living crap out of me.

“Tyler, you decided to go through with this.” The ghost kid seemed shocked about the fact I was doing this.

“As I said before I care about the majority!” I was also annoyed that he kept putting me in the same sky blue room as usual. Blue meant many things, but it doesn’t mean you have to make a room like that.

“By the way, don’t call me ‘you’ call me by my name.” He stayed there; still staring at me and his eyes didn’t blink.

“Well, what is your name?”

“We are almost out of time.” That was when the kid finally blinked and acted like somebody with paranoia.

“I asked you about your name, you.” I wished that the ghost kid would disappear, but that would mean I would have to go too. Then I remembered the image of somebody reaching out for my vanishing hand. Their fingers tried to touch mine, but the person couldn’t even get me.

“It is Markl Lenson, but just call by Mark.” He started to fade away. “See you next time you sleep.”

“Wait, why do you always have to go?” I tried to grab the annoying ghost’s hand but I couldn’t. There was no way I could grab onto him. “I need you to tell me more about stuff.” I needed to know what these visions were because they were freaking me out.

“I can’t talk to you about my visions, Tyler, it is illegal for the space time to tell you.” How did he know I wanted to know more about my visions, I wondered. It was weird and it reminded me of Luka.

“Can you at least give me a small clue?” I was longing for any clue about those haunting visions, and why they were there. The one that really hit me was the one of Si stalking Andrea when she was alive.

“Not the smallest of the world. All I could give you is this, and this is my hope of Envy’s death.” He was almost completely gone, and I wanted him to stay. Maybe I could have found a way to get him to the better place.

“Please don’t go, Mark!” It was killing me that this was taking such a long time. Waiting for something you want to just go away forever.

“I’m not planning on staying awake much longer.” He then disappeared, and that moment was when I woke up. The only other person awake was Kirami, and he wouldn’t say anything to me but a frown. So, somehow the girls all woke up at the same exact time.

“We have to go. Gosh, it is mourning again we must of slept for an entire day.” Yuni got up, and the force field went down.

“Yeah, all of us are good and rested.” Rikku no longer had the bags under her eyes, and Suki was alright. They were ready to go and so was Kirami, Yuni, and I; we were going to finish the quest today.

“What are we waiting for. Let’s go.” Everybody was happier since we were allowed to go to sleep, but I was hungry because we didn’t pack anything but weapons. All of our stomachs were yelling for food, yet we ignored their screams for help because we only had a couple more miles to go until the grand finale.

“We’re coming.” But, then something grabbed onto Kirami’s leg and pulled him away.

“Kirami!” All of us went to where Kirami was caught and saw a lady that was the exact opposite of Yuni. Her hair was short and curly, her skin black as night, and the lady’s eyes were a milky black.

“So, you are the people that figured out I was lying all these years.”

“What do you mean?” We didn’t know anything about this mysterious women who randomly appeared out of nowhere.

“You figured out what Envy really was because a sphere Yuni’s mom and dad made. Well, truth is for the Final Aeon I used to murder the dumbldorians tricking them it was to kill Envy.”

“What, you jerk! You killed my parents.” Yuni went running at her and knocked her onto the ground. This action made the woman upset, and she grew fours times our size into a giant. “Who are you?”

“Only the person you were named after, Yunidfgkgc. Truth is that i’m actually normal, and Tyler’s dad...well is basically Envy.” One of my major secrets had been told by impossible to say her name. At least, she hadn’t told them that I knew this because my mouth went down in shock.

“That’s impossible.” Yuni was on Yunidfgkgc’s huge shoulder; trapped because she was on top of her.

“It is possible. Go ask Andrea and she would know everything.” The giant raised her hand, and tried to get Yuni out of her shoulder.

“She’s dead,” Rikku shouted. The yell was so loud that it made my ears ring; it wasn’t pleasant to have your ears ringing like bells.

“Well, good for me.” She then tried to squish us by stopping on our puny bodies. This girl wanted a fight, and we would give her one. So, I started to climb up Yuni blah blah’s leg, and so did the others.

“Why would you do that?” Suki questioned. She was too young to understand Yuni blah blah’s ways of doing things. Yuni blah blah tried to shake us off her leg, but we stayed on. She then turned back to normal size knowing there was no way to escape death when Yuni got her staff. Her hands went up when we surrounded her with all our weapons.

“Don’t kill me,” Yuni blah blah pleaded. But, Kirami stabbed her with his sword. Blah’s body went limp and fell on the ground when Kirami pulled out his sword. Blood was spreading all over the grass. Yet, the thing that disgusted me the most was that Suki watched Kirami kill Blah.

“We have to go!” All of us ran from the site, and we left blah’s body for MARKA to have fun with. The two guards were to her left; swinging by their necks in the mid-summer breeze.

This was it, this was the end:

We arrived at Eve City after hours of walking and fighting MARKA creatures. The place was in ruins, but I could still see the remains of the stadium, the UnDead studio, and my old house. This place had sand all over it; I could sense Envy was here. “Yuni, I want to tell you something.”

“What is it, Tyler?”

“If we ever get separated whistle, okay? Do you know how to whistle?” But, I knew this wouldn’t matter for I was going to disappear, but there was always a possibility of separation. Yuni then whistled, and it was the most perfect whistle I ever heard.

“Andrea had that strategy too. I used to do it all the time when I was a little kid around Suki’s age.” She looked at the ruins of Eve City, the ruins of the old me. “It must be horrible looking at this. All the people you knew and loved got killed in one day.”

“Yes, it makes me get all these memories.” Crybaby, that word couldn’t escape my head whenever I eyes saw the ruins. The horrible memories came all at once, and it was unbearable. I wanted to cry, but that would have just made me more like a crybaby. “Let’s find Envy.” But, then Envy came out from the middle of the city. The monster was my dad.

“You know you have to murder your dad?” Yuni didn’t want me to do such a horrible thing to my father, but I wanted to rip his guts out and eat them while he was alive screaming. All I would do was call him a crybaby.

“Yeah, so let’s just do it.” Envy was going closer to us, and we needed to get the others because we went wandering off by our own. They weren’t that far away so we got to them in seconds.

“Envy is coming. Remember we enter in the monster by going in the mouth, guys.” We all got ready to fight the sly murderer. Yuni, Suki, Rikku, Kirami, and I were all together, and it was not going to stay that way for long.

“This is what we all been waiting for.” That moment I realized the only thing Envy did on this journey was kill an entire village while MARKA killed almost everything. But, I still had to defeat Envy with the others, and save MARKA for somebody else to destroy.

“Here he comes.”

   

Not fit to help Jackie....Now Bruce is a smart guy and I respect his word, but that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard. I taught that kid to read, write, do basic math, whatever. I also helped him learn to control his telekinesis to an extent. I could help him with this. I---we're always there to help him. Then again, the incident at Gotham Heights was pretty terrible. Maybe Bruce is just trying to get the best outcome for Jackie by getting someone with powers like his own to do this job. I don't wanna see Jackie in that much pain ever again. And as scary as he looks, Martian Manhunter seems like he'll be nice. I wish I could just stop thinking about it. Steph and I have a job to do. Silent alarm got triggered at the Gotham Smithsonian Museum. Of course while we're right in the middle of dealing with the idiots trying to rob the place, Steph's gotta talk right in the middle of work... who am I kidding? We do this all the time. I probably start it more than she does.

 

"Martian Freaking Manhunter! Can you believe that? Another JL member helping our little buddy out!"

 

*BANGBANGBANG*

 

"Glock and a 1911....easy enough."

 

"Someone from another planet, Robin!"

 

"Why's it so cool to you? You've met Superboy and Supergirl before."

 

"Yeah, but---Martian Manhunter actually seems like he's out of this world!"

 

"Funny."

 

*BANGBANG*

 

"Oh for--Handle that!"

 

"Sorry...but no, seriously, his looks his talk, everything about him is unearthly! It's soooo cool!"

 

"You're a fangirl, aren't you?"

 

"Shamelessly. He's so underrated. And he's teaching---woops!--he's teaching Pulse how to handle his powers!You think we'll actually get to meet him? Talk to him and everything?"

 

"I dunno, I guess. Aren't you and Miss Martian BFF's or something? What makes Manhunter such a special Martian?"

 

"He--he's just cool, y'know! And he's helping us out! C'mon Tim, this is awesome."

 

"*sigh* yeah, it kinda is...---HEY! Stay down! Y'see this fool?"

 

"Yep, going for the gun. That won't work out for you, buddy. And as for you..."

 

"C'mon, I give! You win! Please lemme go!"

 

"Yeah, I win. But seriously, Miss Martian talks about him all the time. I bet I know more Martian history than you!"

 

"Yeah, you probably do. Wait, cave's calling us. Talk to us!"

 

"Penguin's trying to evade cops near the east docks. deal with it when you can."

 

"Sure thing, just finishing up here. What that fat little bird do this time?"

 

"Human trafficking."

 

"Yikes, that's a new one for him."

 

"By the time you get there he'll probably already be out at sea. I've already mobilized the R-Sub. And it's carrying Spoiler's new vehicle."

 

"Ha, sweet. You hear that, Spoiler? Your new toy's ready."

:D

 

So.

I got tagged twice. And i'm doing this picture first and then a previous one next, because... i'm... weird. And i like to do things backward. But not at all.

 

Mwahaha, I got my first explore. How exciting. xDDD I wonder how that happened.

 

1. I'm listening to Breathe Carolina. Booyah. Not that exciting, really. I've seen them in concert twice, planning on a third time this summer. They're fun as hell, lemme tell ya.

 

2. I'm quite a grammar nerd, despite that last message. My favorite subjects are psychology and English; I suppose you could count photography as well, if you want to.

 

3. Relationships in my life have always been confusing.

 

4. I have shitty mood swings. Random, I know, but this is just supposed to be random facts, so I don't mind. They can really mess with peoples' heads. That whole 70+% thing scares the shit out of me sometimes.

 

5. Sometimes I'm caught between hating materialism and squeeing at random little trinkets like this. xD

 

6. I went shopping today for a dress and ended up finding this mirror necklace. I seriously nearly died I was so happy.

 

7. I have a thing for keys. Gotta love 'em. Antique keys, mostly. My grandpa has a box of them and I am determined to find it and kidnap it.

 

8. I have a feeling that Nyreeja and I are going to have a tagging war.

 

9. I need to clean but don't feel like it.

 

10. I'm reading six books at once right now and I love them all. :D I just got done with a huge etymology project that made me hate reading temporarily, but- LEGASP- I CAN LOVE READING AGAIN.

 

Hide in your eyes

Dancing in the bright lights

Take out the knife

Oh this brush just doesn't feel right

Hiding your eyes

Mirrors tell the worst lies

Cover it up

Hide in your eyes

Dancing in the bright lights

Take out the knife

Oh this brush just doesn't feel right

Hide in your eyes

Mirrors tell the worst lies

Cover it, cover it up.

I woke up in the alley behind Finnigan's, slightly hung over and Dwight's head still in a bag near me. Good. No hobos stealing my shit tonight. I got in my "car" And headed to Gotham heights, where Arnold lived. It was early in the morning, so hopefully his kids would be sleeping in. They sure as hell wouldn't be at school, what with it being a Saturday and all. I pulled up into his driveway. Luckily his nearest neighbors are like a mile or so away, so nobody can see the giant armored barrel rolling up the goddamn driveway. I took off my sweaty-ass helmet and stuck Dwight's still-bagged head in there, to hide it from the wife. She knows me, but I'm sure she doesn't want to see it. And god forbid the kids are around... I knocked on the door to the mansion, and wouldn't you know it, Miss Patton herself was there. She looked surprised to see me in the armor.

 

"Hello, Miss Patton. Is your hubby around?"

 

"Early much, BF? He's on the deck, Come in!"

 

"Uhhh...your kids aren't around, right?"

 

"Don't worry, they're still asleep. It's a Saturday, after all."

 

Good! I'm the last thing they should see...."

 

She lead me through the mansion to Arnold. I've been here before, but FUCK this place is nice!I guess that's what being a weapons designer gets you. Finally, on the other side of this place was the deck, and Arnold looking out to the yard, still in his pajamas. Before I said a damn thing, he turned around, saw me, and smiled.

 

"There he is! My favorite hero!"

 

"You've got some loose terms if you're calling me a hero."

 

"Well, you're MY hero! Getting rid of worthless weapon trading scumbags for me and all that. I take it it went well?"

 

"His head is in the helmet here. This piece of shit is no longer a problem."

 

'You save my family and now my business! Is there anything you can't do?"

 

"I can name a few things."

 

"Yeah right....Y'know, I don't know why you're so scared of my kids seeing you. They still remember you from when you saved them and Donna years ago. They were so little back then...They ask me all the time about you."

 

"Despite how brave your little ones are, I'm the last person they should meet. That time there life was on the line long ago was just that: long ago."

 

"I don't get it though, what are you so scared of?"

 

" I just brought a fucking head to your doorstep. That's something your kids shouldn't see."

 

"My kids are never gonna see your work. But I think they should know the man who saved them. The man they look up to so much."

 

"Goddammit. Of all the people in Gotham to look up to, me? The psycho in armor who maims and mutilates criminals? They got Batman, Robin..."

 

"They didn't save them from worthless kidnappers."

 

"................................"

 

"Well look, your armor is being repaired, but it'll take a day or to. 'till then, use that armor there."

 

"Thanks, but don't expect me to do this again."

 

"Do what?"

 

"Killing for payment. I'm not some fucking assassin. Not now, not ever!"

 

"He was a scumbag selling weapons under the table. He's your type of prey!

 

"You know what I mean, Arnie."

 

"Alright, alright, I get it. Anyway, you want some coffee or something? I've got some in t kitchen all nice an hot, ready to go!"

 

" Sorry, I gotta go home and catch some sleep, and get rid of this shitbag's head. I've got work to do tonight."

      

I was happy and I was losing it at the same time. Tim lived and all, but...just looking at him made my stomach do a backflip. It was like he was...well, thrown down a cliff. That just doesn't have a comparison. And after getting him back for like, 5 minutes, these League of Assasins jerks take him away again. I don't even know if I can trust them to take care of him. And I never even have enough time to worry, either. On our way to the next trial, a ninja orders me to follow him while Ra's and Jackie go somewhere else. The ninja hands me a wooden spear and tells me to follow the hall. This spear was a joke, too. I mean, the blade was wooden! The hell am I gonna do with this? And...what am I supposed to do here? At the end of the hall was this ledge. Looking down it was just a drop into an abyss. Jutting out from the darkness was a bunch of posts big enough to balance on with one foot. Is this the trial? In the wall to my left was a big window, with Ra's and Jackie looking through. Jackie just smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I couldn't help but grin seeing him. At least I have something to keep me confident. Ra's voice didn't help, though.

 

"Just like I've observed Timothy, I've observed you, Stephanie. Though your skills in combat aren't of Timothy's level just yet, you would still be quite the challenge to some of my veteran assassins. What's most notable about your combat skills is that your agility and balance seem to surpass Timothy's, and his are already near Olympic levels. But now it is time to see if Timothy's training has payed off. Testing your skill and balance, you will face one of my best on these posts. And one more thing: losing your balance is not an option."

 

I dunno what's worse; the fact that I gotta fight someone on freaking posts, or that old creep Ra's has been watching me from the shadows for god knows how long. No turning back now, though. Whoever I gotta fight, they're going down. Everyone back home is counting on me now. I take my first step on a post and I can already tell things are gonna be bad. These posts are way more wobbly then they should be. And...what's that smell? Kinda like smoke and ammonia... Wait, its coming from below! But I can't see anything....How far down does it go? Just look up. My opponent is right there! Huh, a woman. She's got a spear with a actual metal blade. Yeah, make this more unfair then it already is. There's not even a bell or some guy yelling "FIGHT!" She just starts jabbing that spear at me. Keeping my balance while dodging was ridiculous, and she was stupid quick. Even though I was dodging well, she still got me a few times. There were a few cuts on my arms, some on my sides, and she even went for a leg, too. And blocking with my crappy little kiddy spear wasn't a good idea. Her blade dug more than halfway into the shaft, almost slicing it in two. If I so much as swing wrong with this thing now, it'll snap like a toothpick. And when I try to attack, she easily blocks with her spear and nearly pushes me off the post I'm standing on. Man, I gotta think quick here. She's faster, more skilled, and has better balance then me. I've already lost mine and barely recovered a few times already. There's gotta be something I can do. I can't fail now. Not like this...

I still remember the way J was breathing. The look in his eyes...he was afraid. Afraid of what, though? I never figured there was anything out there that could really scare him. Makes me a bit scared myself. I know I'm not gonna get anything out of him, either. I talk to him, why can't he talk to me? We woke up early in the morning...I think it was morning. The sun isn't going down until march so it's hard to tell. Today we didn't get any sunlight, though. Clouds rolled through and there was a snow falling. Felt twice as cold as it was yesterday. Don't even wanna imagine what the wind on my face would feel like if I took my helmet off. After a couple hours of following the GPS, J had us move out on foot. We were apparently right on top of the location those Nazis gave us. Now we just had to look. That was the hard part, though. The snow falling down gave off this haze that made looking around a bigger problem than it should. We stuck together to avoid getting lost in the snow. Even with all this armor on I still felt the antarctic wind...makes me miss winter back home. As we're walking I see something through the snowy haze in the distance. This box-looking thing in the ground. Out of nowhere I see a muzzle flash come from it and there's bullets ricocheting off of J's armor. Shit, more Nazis probably. We hit the ground and I still hear gunfire. A machine gun, but like none I've ever heard before...it was loud for one. Not as loud as mine, but still. I yell to J and Anne about the thing in the distance and we all try to get close. We stay low and rely on the haze to hide us. As I get closer, I get a clearer look as just what we're heading towards. Looks like an underground bunker, half-buried in the ground with only a couple feet of it rising out of the icy ground. I also notice these rods sticking out of the ground around it. Looks like they have lights on top of them. What are they for? I get even closer and I see two men in white crawl out of an opening in the side of the bunker. They're wearing all white outside of the red armbands. Yep, definitely more Nazis. They both see me and open fire. Luckily they're just using old assault rifles now so everything's just bouncing off. I hear J roar near me and the Nazis lose it. If J's charging I guess I should too. I pick a target and get my blade out. It all ends in about 5 seconds. Simply put. I cut his arm clean off. Blood spurts out everywhere like when I decapitated that supersoldier and the Nazi hits the snowy ground screaming in pain. I leave him to bleed out to see J beating the shit out of the other guy and Anne enjoying the show. I notice the gun on the ground the Nazis were using on us. Anne told me about it. An STG44. Another relic of WWII and these guys are still using it. Finally after trying tom feed the guy his teeth about 15 times J starts trying to communicate.

 

"BASE! WHERE!?"

 

"Das wird Spaß machen! Englisch Leser werden denken, dass ich fluchen unser Held! wirklich ich bleibe ein Witz in Deutsch für alle Leser hier!"

 

"You gotta be fucking kidding me..."

 

"Nicht Deutsch -Leser sind wahrscheinlich werde sauer dies lesen werden! Wenig wissen sie!"

 

"ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT!!"

 

"Komm jetzt , wir alle sahen , dass Witz kommenden Sobald ich anfing, Deutsch zu werfen euch alle!"

 

"You have fun with you new friend there, big guy. I'll look in the bunker, see if they left anything for us."

 

"See if they have a translator in there!"

 

"Ich habe eine ziemlich schlechte Übersetzer für diesen Witz so entschuldige ich mich zu einem Deutschen zu lesen!"

 

Anne crawled into the bunker and started too look around. I notice in one of the openings there was a machine gun mounted in for any poor bastard unlucky enough to find this place. That machine gun looked familiar, kinda like the one I use...

 

"Das ist kein Zufall ! Ihre Waffe ist ursprünglich aus dem MG 42 basiert!"

 

"Okay, this fucker is really starting to piss me off...."

 

"Ask him about these light rod things around here."

 

" 'sup with the lights, buddy? Got anything to say about that?"

 

"Sie führen direkt an der Basis ! Ich habe die Idee von einem Stern Kriege Spiel!"

 

"If you don't start spouting English soon, I'm gonna be dreaming of a red Christmas, you fuck."

 

"Meine größte Entschuldigung an alle Leser Deutsch für die nächste Zeile!"

 

"Aaaaand that does it!"

 

"Heil HitlAARGGH---"

 

'Hey guys, I think I found something?"

 

"What is it Zulu?"

 

"A switch. Dunno what it's for, though."

 

"Well, flip it!"

 

She obliges and flips whatever switch she found in there. Those lights flicker on right after. They're really bright, probably floodlights. I look around a see more in the distance through the haze. Much more. It's a path. And it's gonna lead us right where we need to go...

I saw this and wanted to do it!!!

(I'm tagging the first people I can think of. If you wanna be tagged, lmk!)

RULES OF THE TAG:

- Copy these questions.

- Answer them.

200: My middle name is: Joseph:’(

199: I was born in: A hospital

198: I am really: fake, by that I mean I try and act nicer than I actually am, MUAHAHAHA!

197: My cellphone company is: Hmmph, I have two phones!^-^. First one : Iphone3GS;Apple?D: Second one: Blackberry Cuve 9300 I think?;Blackberry!:3. << Both on vodaphone.

196: My eye color is: Brown!:3 Although I’ve always wanted blue eyes:P

195: My shoe size is: IDK! Like, 5-5and a half-sometimes 6. (My mum always buys me shoes that are to big...-.-)

194: My ring size is: the size of my ring size.

193: My height is: I actually don’t know. I can’t be bothered to ask right now either.

192: I am allergic to: chocolate. LOL NO, if I was I’d die(see what I did?:3) I’m allergic to rats.

191: My 1st car was: this little electronic midget car thing. It was slow. So I broke it.

190: My 1st job was: Well. If you’re counting learn at work day that’s coming soon, It will be a primary school teacher. Or an architect:0

189: Last book you read: School book club assignment, “the secret garden” < fml I love that book!<3

188: My bed is: a double bed. And it’s blue!:D

187: My pet: my cat’s name is really weird... but anyway, and my little shizzle Rosey!:3(<dog btw)

186: My best friend: my laptop.

185: My favorite shampoo is: Herbal essence I think? It smells lyke bubble gum!;)

184: AIM name: wtf is this?

183: Piggy banks are: the thing I knocked out of a window on accident. Jokez it was on purpose;x

182: In my pockets: I’m wearing a skirt.

181: On my calendar: there are LOADS AND LOADS OF CUTE DOGS.

180: Marriage is: marriage.

179: Spongebob is: sexy.

178: My mom: is getting my shizzle groomed< OH EEEWWW OH EWWWW. SHE’S A DOG IT LOOKS WRONG.

177: The last three cd's I bought were: Paramore(I think?) Cher Lloyd, and dat other kid.. Oh yeah, JUSTINBEIBER!:3<3 I’M A BELEIBER. Yeah,no. I’m not, he doesn’t deserve a fan like me, im to howt. It was for my little sister, she’s a beleibend..

176: Last YouTube video watched: YANO THAT IM A CRAZY BITCH. Smile by Avril Lavigne.

175: How many cousins do you have?: Too many. Too many.

174: Do you have any siblings?: My little sister is 9 or 10, i don’t know, I don’t like her. And my brothers like, way old I think.

173: Are your parents divorced?: sometimes.

172: Are you taller than your mom?: In high heels.

171: Do you play an instrument?: Piano, PIAN PIAN PIANO, PIANO, PIANO. I can only play one thing tho.

170: What did you do yesterday?: I went to school, made fun of my teacher with a lisp, went home, went on my phone, TRIED TO FORMAT MY AUDITION PHOTO FOR BRATZ NEXT HUNGER GAMES TOP MODEL ashdposahifohondo, And then went to sleep. There was more but I cbf to say it ALL.

[ I Believe In ]

169: Love at first sight: Depends who I’m looking at,br0.

168: Luck: OHHELLNO.

167: Fate: Pfft,no.

166: Yourself: what does that mean.

165: Aliens: Yeah, listen to this story!: My nan has a friend(OMG) and that friend was going to visit family in the countryside, she went through a tunnel, it all went black, and when she came out of the tunnel, she had lost afew hours. (LONG TUNNEL RIGHT?) Her, her husband and her two children all had weird, swollen jab like marks in their arms. After all of this, they went home, and while the little kids were at school, they drew weird looking things in silver suits saying they had weird names and stuff like ‘This one took mummy into this room, and daddy into that one.’ Then that’s it. True story. Not even lying.

164: Heaven: yes

163: Hell: Idk

162: God: yes

161: Horoscopes: omg yes, only in newspapers though, its like they know me

160: Soul mates: idk.

159: Ghosts: yes, my uncle lived in a haunted house and I once got stuck in a room when it wasn’t even a lockable room.

158: Gay Marriage: ok.

157: War: no

156: Orbs: Yes! In my uncles haunted house a pastor had to come and raise the roof(lol...) and allow the spirits to transfer to the ‘other side’. Awks thing is it didn’t work. He said to my uncle before lifting the ceiling ‘I sense you are a very kind person, I can tell by your orbs’ then he said they are like green blue and stuff. And he said he can tell im a sweetie! I also watched a documentary on it...

155: Magic: Yes.

I just wanted to mention this, do you believe in your six sense? It’s a sense that allows you to, see ghosts, be physic and stuff like that. When I was younger I used to see my dead nan in my dreams and talk to her. Then it wore off when I turned about 7. I also had a friend that saw to babies before they were born, they sat on two houses and then a week later, each woman from the two house announced their pregnancy + he even guessed who was having a boy and who was having a girl.

[ This or That ]

154: Hugs or Kisses: Hugs.

153: Drunk or High: none:L

152: Phone or Online: Phone. It’s an iphone, it has safari dude.

151: Red heads or Black haired: Red heads. I LOVE RED HAIR ON A BOY, I don’t even know why...

150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunette’s, because most blonde’s not a-days are fake.

149: Hot or cold: I love cold water. I HATE heat rash.

148: Summer or winter: Winter.

147: Autumn or Spring: the one with the leaves.

146: Chocolate or vanilla: chocolate.

145: Night or Day: day, no wait, night, no wait, day, NO WAIT. Day without school, night with school.

144: Oranges or Apples: neither.

143: Curly or Straight hair: My hair is kinda curly at the ends sometimes.

142: McDonalds or Burger King: Are you kidding me. McDonalds. Burger king sucks.

141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk chocolate, white chocolate is too much.

140: Mac or PC: Pc.

139: Flip flops or high heels: Higheels, wait, are we talking about a beach here? Then flipflops.

138: Ugly and rich OR Sexy and poor: I’m already sexy and rich. HA BITCH. Na, but neither becuz im fine how I am<3

137: Coke or Pepsi: Dr. Pepper!!!<<FromYourDemonicSmile...And Yes! Fucking agreed.<

128: Manicure or Pedicure: Manicure, I hate people touching my feet.

127: East Coast or West Coast: wherever alexownsyurfacex3 lives.

126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas. I’M GETTING THE SIMS 3 SUPERNATURAL THE ONLY EXPANSION I DONT HAVE BECAUSE ITS NOT OUT YET BUT IT BETTER NOT SUCK LIKE THE SIMS MAKING MAGIC OR BE A LETDOWN LIKE THE SIMS 3 SHOWTIME KATY PERRY WHEN IT DONT EVEN COME WITH MUCH SHIZZ LIKE WTF BRO.

125: Chocolate or Flowers: rhetorical question much?yeah, chocolate.

124: Disney or Six Flags: i don’t even know. Disney. Wtf is sixflags?

123: Yankees or Red Sox: I hate sports.

[ Here's What I Think About ]

122: War: idk

121: George Bush: idk

120: Gay Marriage: idk.

119: The presidential election: idk

118: Abortion: YOU MAKE ME SICK.

117: MySpace:

116: Reality TV: Jewsey showre. << pronounced like that. And the only way is essex because of that sexy Joey Essex who I met.

115: Parents: idk

114: Back stabbers: are people with knives.

113: Ebay: The best place in the word lol jokes thats amazon.

112: Soccer: boys.

111: Work: no. Gohome.

110: My Neighbors: are people, hopefully

109: Gas Prices: idk

108: Designer Clothes: I pay around £85 for shoes. £65 for school shoes. My mum buys outfits for over £115. (< TOP AND TROUSERS?) and idk. No.

107: University: if its like the sims 2.

106: Sports: is sexy,lolno.

105: My family: no. Rubbish tv show;)

104: The future: LOL, I THOUGHT IT SAID FURNITURE.

[ Last time I ]

103: Hugged someone: idk

102: Last time you ate: now.

101: Saw someone I haven't seen in awhile: idk

100: Cried in front of someone: yesterday, god i know I’m pretty, but that doens’t mean my face is a target for footballs.

99: Went to a movie theater: That fantastic five thing. Ohyh, avengers assemble??

98: Took a vacation: a year ago. 2011.

97: Swam in a pool: OHWOW. A WEEK AGO.

96: Changed a diaper: apart from my own?LOLJKZ.

95: Got my nails done: Thursday. For my friend birthday party.

94: Went to a wedding: i actually don’t even know.

93: Broke a bone: 2 years ago.

92: Got a piercing: February 25th 2012 - I got my helix pierced. I want my seconds on my lobes, more on my helix, my nose, my lip (I want snake bites) and maybe my tongue. <ew.

When I was seven... I got my ears pierced. And I want my bellybutton pierced. My cousin had her bellybutton, ears, other part of her ears, her nose, she wants her eyebrow done, and all the rest pierced. I say no I just, ew.

91: Broke the law: I snuck a 5p sweet in my friends bag once:’(

90: Texted: now. It’s called bbm

[ MISC ]

89: Who makes you laugh the most: My friend Chloe. She’s so childish. (we were on chatlourette and a Indian man was on the screen and she screamed AHH OSAMA BIN LADEN. It was racist and funny at the same time.)

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: my dolls, i wont be allowed them.... 87: The last movie I saw: enchanted

-skipped some?-

83: The most difficult thing to do is: read what was here before what im writing.

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: yeah,no.

81: My zodiac sign is: Libra,is that right?

80: The first person I talked to today was: my mum.

79: First time you had a crush: reception, and we started going out. We were bouncing on this bench thing and one of the things snapped so he blamed it on me. I went all karate on his ass.

78: The one person who I can't hide things from: Chloe. When she found out about the 5p sweet, she made me pay her!:L

77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: OMG. I talk to myself alot too charlotte! My mum says it’s conserning”:3

76: Right now I am talking to: myself, in my head, reading this, smiling now, frowning now, stopping now, just raised an eyebrow.

75: What are you going to do when you grow up: I wanna be a singer. Actress. Or a sexy person on a pole LOL NO JOKING.

74: I have/will get a job: yes.

73: Tomorrow: Is Saturday, Saturday, too daaay is Friday Friday. I DONT WANT THIS WEEEEEKEND TO EEEEEENNNDDD! ITS FRYDAY FRYDAY, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRYDDAAAAAY.

72: Today: its 12:22.

71: Next Summer: It is summer.

70: Next Weekend: mgnsnl;d;ls.

69: I have these pets: shutup.

68: The worst sound in the world: Rebecca black ^^^^^^^^^^

67: The person that makes me cry the most is: garbadge men. My eyes water from the stench.

66: People that make you happy: myself.

65: Last time I cried: are you forreeal. SHUTTHEFUDGEUP.

64: My friends are: sexy.

63: My computer is: sexyiest.

62: My School: stupid.

61: My Car: is a bratz toy car dude.

60: I lose all respect for people who: aren’t nice.

59: The movie I cried at was: Dead Silence... I love that film.

57: TV shows you watch: True blood, America’s next top model, CANT WAIT FOR BRITISH INVASION, Eastenders^-^, and sometimes nickelodeon.

55: Your dream vacation: is not to be announced because idk.

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: not sure. Probably when I tried to strangle myself.<<(STOP IT:’((((((((((((((). MY ANSWER : Period. Simple.

53: How do you like your steak cooked: I don’t. Go away.

52: My room is: Blue like dah seaaaa.

51: My favorite celebrity is: the dude from Austin and Ally. Lynch Ross. He’s hot.

50: Where would you like to be: America.

49: Do you want children: Yes. They are very childlike.

48: Ever been in love: yes, i am right now. IT’S CALLED MINI CHEDDARS. Oh and mah ex-boyfriend.

47: Whos your best friend: Again. SERIOUSLY NO.

46: More guy friends or girl friends: Girls can be bitchy, but the boys are more bitchy, so I chose girls.

45: One thing that makes you feel great is: when i feel great.

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: idk.

43: Do you have a 5 year plan: a what year what.

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: its called yolo.

41: Have you pre-named your children: no.PFFT, NO WAY!! PFFFT!

40: Last person I got mad at:

39: I would like to move to: idk.

38: I wish I was a professional: person.

[ My Favorites ]

37: Candy: Strawberry laces.

36: Vehicle: car

35: President: .

34: State visited: .

33: Cellphone provider: Vodafone bitches.

32: Athlete: .

31: Actor: I’ve said this.

30: Actress: I hate all actresses, they just sit there while the monster comes to them then when it goes to get them they finally leave. For real.

29: Singer: Cher Lloyd or that chick from paramore,

28: Band: .

27: Clothing store: SAID THIS ALREADY DUDE. Oh no i didn’t. Ok then. Ummh. Idk.

26: Grocery store: Asda

25: TV show: idk.

24: Movie: idk.

23: Website: flickr

22: Animal: dog

21: Theme park: Thorpe park.

20: Holiday: Christmas.

19: Sport to watch: wtf.

18: Sport to play: -_-

17: Magazine: Take a break. They’re my mums but yano.

16: Book: Is it secrets?

15: Day of the week: Friday, Friday, gonna get down on Friday! <<, OMG, OMG. OMG. OMG.

14: Beach: Weston-super-mare.

13: Concerts attended: JLS. Ugh,kill me.

12: Thing to cook: i don’t cook, its called a mother.

11: Food: Sunday dinner.

10: Restaurant: Angel Chef,

9: Radio station: THIS IS HEARTT!

8: Yankee candle scent: /

7: cologne: for guys: idk, does lynx count?

and for girls: .idk.

6: Flower: Roses.

5: Color: Pink, blue, red, orange, purple, grey.

4: Talk show host:

3: Comedian: Michael Mcintyre (

2: Dog breed: SHIZZLE. (Shihtzu)

1: Are you ready for this survey to be over?: My arms hurt.

 

Image: Manta Ray passing directly underneath catamaran. Was standing at the front of the catamaran, holding camera, when it unexpectedly appeared.

Just enough time to point and shoot, no chance to focus or adjust anything. Probably a metre under the surface. Wonderful experience.

 

Below is the fifth and final in a series of five monthly reports I sent back to friends in 2007.

Should you be interested, recommend that they be read in order, to get the best out of them.

 

Notes from Christmas Island

Chapter 5

NOVEMBER 2007

 

November is our last month on Christmas Island, this time.

 

It is also a month of other significances, namely the eleventh month of the year home, to Remembrance Day.

November also represents the letter “N” as used in radio communication.

November is derived from Old English, derived from Latin, derived from “Novem” being “Nine” being originally the ninth month of the Roman year.

While not related to any of this, I once had a cat called Nine.

That was in Broome, Western Australia. The cat, Nine, was black and I liked him.

He was a good cat and he was slinky.

 

Back to November, it is also the month of Movember, where the male of the species can grow, with a reduced fear of ridicule, a moustache for the purpose of raising funds for charity.

While not strictly following this rule I have for a few days been cultivating a goatee.

 

In fact it is not such much an effort to comply with Movember’s movement but a convenient excuse to not shave prior to work.

 

Only today was I questioned, if I was getting paid for growing it.

Nope, doing it for free.

Jody reckons I am going grey around the muzzle and if I was a dog, I would be Blue Heeler or Cattle Dog.

Funny, I was kinda thinking of a Husky or Snow Dog.

I also like eating meals out of a bowl.

 

We met another pair of yachties recently at the outdoor cinema one pleasant Saturday night while their awesome Catamaran lay sweetly at anchor in the Cove.

 

Having set sail from Western Australia’s timeless Kimberley coast six days before, Christmas Island’s Jurassic topography and safe anchorage beckoned them, same as Sirens did to Ancient Mariners in Greek Mythology.

 

They were cruising gracefully from Queensland bound for a three month stay on Cocos (Keeling) Islands.

Cocos, by the way is some nine hundred kilometres further Westward in that general African direction, so Christmas Island was planned as a three day re-provision stopover.

This allocated time was also a chance to fully inspect the condition of the hulls, sails, rigging and chocolate.

Weeks later they are still shaking their heads in disbelief of how their first hours on the island panned out.

 

With Customs and Quarantine legalities complete they engaged in conversation with one of our locals, a fellow Hash House Harriers runner, who was due to fly off the island for three months.

 

A welcoming dockside chat soon became an offer to use his completely desirable 4WD Landcruiser for the length of their stay.

And by the way, the tank has just been filled.

 

With this astonishing introduction to island life under their belt, thoughts turned to exploring the island, meeting and understanding the people if things like this happen.

 

The next evening was our meeting at the outdoor cinema.

Long after the credits had rolled, the crowd disbursed and all copyright payments ignored, the four of us were still leaning against our respective borrowed cars as we passed along our accumulated information on the rhythms of island life.

 

A primary piece of advice I gave, and continue to stick to, was to get the answer to the same question from multiple sources.

As no singular person is the holder of all island information.

Unless asking directions.

 

Being good yachties, as opposed to the deadbeat, dirt-bag, dread-locked, free-loading, feral yachties, they have been welcomed into circles that we frequent as great additions to the island even if temporary, although I suspect their temporary / temporary status may well become permanently / temporary and way out here that is as much as you can ask from a first time visitor.

 

To become permanent here, there is always a need to head back to the mainland to calculate numbers, to attend to business then organise a return.

 

The catamaran, “Southern Comfort” is a complete scorcher.

At 12 metres in length and ninety percent owner built, designed to be sailed solo if necessary and is a sweet ride of fibreglass, fancy composites, carbon fibre and swoopy design.

Port hull holds Queens size bedroom, clothes storage, sailing equipment storage, bathroom and toilet of spaciousness and class.

Starboard hull holds Queens sized bedroom, another smaller bedroom, fully competent galley, sailing equipment storage.

Preventing Port and Starboard hulls from sailing off in different directions is the central cockpit and general mission control.

This centre deck houses a lounge / day sleeper and communications and electronics area.

The whole thing is magnificent.

 

We have sat on, snorkelled to and from and taken in vistas of the rugged and resolute features of the CI coast at dusk from the swanky poop deck.

 

At last count their three day stopover is running at around forty.

 

A visitor we took onto Southern Comfort, a couple of weeks ago, was a journalist, Zi, on assignment from Singapore’s colossal Changi Airport.

An airport vast enough for it’s own dedicated magazine.

Her brief was to find out about the islands natural features and summarise the character of the people.

I hope I made a sufficiently good impression on behalf of the island as Zi spent more time with me than anyone else, so if the island comes off looking a bit crazy I’ve got no one else to blame and no where to hide.

 

She was taken to just about every place on land and sea that could be done in a week.

In Poon Saan we dropped in on a baby Golden Bosun chick that I have been keeping tabs on over the last few months.

The chick has grown from a freshly hatched chick cutely covered in the softest and fluffiest white fur to a small dove sized bird whose feathers are just starting to show.

 

In a few months she will be the most beautiful adolescent bird with pure golden shoulders and wings.

The two gold streamer feathers stretching half a metre beyond her flight feathers will scintillate in the light as she circulates above Flying Fish Cove.

 

Her mother has nested on the ground at the base of old tree two metres off the road.

Long term locals advise that the mother has been nesting in the same spot for over ten years, dutifully raising her young in such a public location. When the Casino was running, this site was an accommodation block for Casino staff and by all reports a solid party area however the Golden Bosun continued to nest here.

 

In a feathery miracle, while the mother is out looking for food, the chick nests defencelessly on the ground but none of the Goshawks, Kestrels or feral cats who are capable of taking the chick away as a snack seem to bother.

 

As island emblem and elegant fliers Golden Bosuns are so admired that all island residents will care and protect them.

Any in found in distress are quickly gathered and taken to Parks Australia for security and rehabilitation.

 

You know, I never really took much notice of birds on the mainland, sure I like magpies and crows and always loved the sound of kookaburras but never really got into anything beyond that.

 

If you are thinking:

“Would you knock it off with the bird stories.”

Well here they are really something to admire and preserve.

 

New subject.

Christmas Island is anchored to the Australian continental plate five kilometres below around which the warm Indian Ocean swirls.

 

During March to November weather patterns are dominated by South Easterly winds, that is coming from the Perth / Fremantle / Western Australian direction.

Propelled by these winds the strong currents generate waves that lash against our Eastern and Southern coastlines.

 

For the other three months: December, January and February the weather swings around and comes from the North and that is when the action happens.

 

The rains come, the waves get so big in the Cove that ships can no longer dock, thunderstorms crack, whalesharks numbers increase and the crabs migrate.

It is a great, if wet time, the humidity cranks up though, especially if there has been rain and through a break in the cloud the sun beats down on the surface.

That is, when the rains come.

 

Keep that point in mind while I explain other stuff for a while.

 

That week was also my scheduled turn to set the weekly Hash Run.

My plan was a run through the central upper plateau.

Start at the Central Area Workshop run along the road for a kilometre.

Turn into the jungle then follow an old baseline track last properly cleared about five years before.

Along for a kilometre or so turn right along a perpendicular baseline track and out onto the road and back along a permanent track to the start.

Midway a deviation was incorporated to give the runners extra distance to cover.

This all sounds pretty simple except the fact that all of it had to be cleared of overhanging branches, thorned vines, sharp edged pandanus palms and be run while in waist high bushes, fallen logs and strewn boulders.

 

To provide directional clues six hours of cutting by parang or machete and the tagging of trees with tape was undertaken.

 

My first session was on the Sunday that laid the outline of the track excluding the extra runners component.

 

Monday I invited Zi to see what setting a Hash run, CI style was like for her story.

After two hours on what was supposed to be a straight line with an intent to exit on the permanent vehicle track some 1500 metres along, we emerged from the bush, scratched and dusty 100 metres from where we went in!

 

Somewhere, somehow within the rainforest I had changed direction and almost doubled back on our track.

It actually made the run better than planned but confused the hell out me.

 

The crab migration was also what her journalistic assignment was to cover.

After six of the seven allocated days behind us, the only crabs lurking were in the waterfall and permanent natural springs areas.

It had been too hot for the crabs to move.

By Thursday’s midday deadline the article could only reflect that of an island with 40 million crabs barely five individual ones had been seen on the move. We could have given them names!

 

Thursday 2pm and shortly before the flight back to Singapore was land the rains had arrived and the crabs were starting to come out.

 

I was not going to let her leave without the story she needed, I drove down to where Zi was staying and we raced up the top of the island and saw that the migration was about to start.

It was great the rains had proven that we were telling the truth all along.

 

After returning her back to the hotel, Jody and I went back up to the run location to put the last few tags up, then deposit drinks for the drink stop located where the trails busted out of the rainforest onto the permanent tracks.

Everything was working to plan except the crabs were out in their thousands.

 

To cover the distance of three kilometres on the permanent track by vehicle, a passage that should have taken five minutes max, was transformed into an unorthodox sight of Jody driving the one tonne ute in first gear while I ran in front holding an esky lid gently flicking hundreds of crabs off the track to safety.

 

By the time we got to the start of the run, a full house was there, barely patiently awaiting instructions ready to go.

 

As I was concerned that people might get lost if they were too tardy and become stranded in the rainforest after dark, I ducked off to wait in the jungle at the tricky bits.

 

Where everyone should have broken free from floralistic clutches of jungle tendrils, everyone did.

Except two.

 

With fifteen minutes of daylight left, Bigfoot, one of the stooges from Chapter 4, stated that his girlfriend, Foot Fetish was one of those unaccounted for.

 

Together we impetuously plunged back into the dense and tangled vegetation to find her and anyone else.

 

We tracked back along the tags until it was so dark that we could see naff in front of us. This was a good time to get out.

 

Dark in there, is dark and black and dark.

 

Confident in the knowledge, if I could feel ferns against my body and face while walking, then we were still on the baseline track since ferns are the predominant foliage that grows in previously graded areas.

 

It worked and we came out precisely at our entry point in pure darkness.

When setting the run my navigation had been pretty bad but in retracing the path and finding salvation under pressure it had been very precise and I was pretty happy the way things sorted themselves out.

 

Foot Fetish had turned around long before and was never lost and was waiting at the BBQ for us to return.

 

The rains that came started the migration in earnest the very next day, Friday morning.

There were tens of thousand of them on the go.

Roads were closed as they rustled their way across dry fallen leaves but the follow up rains did not come so it has pretty much stalled at this point this year.

When the rains do come again, shortly, I suspect it will restart but am not sure if we will catch it.

With three days left to go......can’t say.

 

But the first of the Whalesharks have arrived and that is great news.

 

By the way, that goatee lasted three days before I got rid of it. Didn't like it.

 

Looking back, within the first month of being here we applied along with about thirty others for some employment to cover living expenses.

This wasn’t the tour guiding employment but a second form of commercial remuneration to keep some fiscal equilibrium.

The interview process was island style… Casual.

Just like the hours offered.

We thought, for the interview our best avenue was to dress in a manner similar to that of the mainland.

In my case, nice-ish pants and ironed long sleeve shirt, with a collar and shoes.

Proceeding this had to locate the iron as it had been a while since such an instrument had been needed.

At the group interview we might as well been in a tuxedo and ball dress for how over dressed we felt.

One guy turned up in his West Coast Eagles football jumper, basketball shorts and scored a position as well.

First impressions were not a critical as we thought.

 

And now for some indiscriminate observations:

 

The notion of keeping up with the neighbours does not really exist here.

Predominantly and pleasantly you are judged on your personal merits.

Suburb, house, car, boat, job title or general financial situation does not define your persona.

If you are a complete clown, no amount of fake tan, botox or big screen TV will hide it here.

 

I’ve got this theory, which I think stands up to reasonable scrutiny and peer review.

That is, most people are good natured souls who crave safety, security, honesty and community.

And when given the opportunity, due to isolation, to belong in an environment where those facets are standard, people revel in such an existence.

It’s not that people here are better, they are not, it’s just that when they get here individuals can truly be who they want to be and should be.

 

And that is one of the reasons that make this place so great.

 

As mentioned in previous Notes’ from Christmas Island, we have a block of land in Silver City acquired last year.

Soon after our arrival we had it cleared of scrappy weeds and took the opportunity to understand what we had.

At the moment we have 30º of ocean views in a general westerly direction.

That’s not bad.

 

At some yet undetermined date if we build at the back of the block, on the high portion, a house that is up off the ground at bit, say on poles, then, we have first class 120º ocean views above my neighbouring houses to the Cove and North Western Coast and to the horizon.

That’s even better.

 

“Southern Comfort” went for a shake down run before the ocean crossing to Cocos and doubled up as a chance to do some Whale Shark spotting.

We scored an invitation [nice work] and spent four hours cruising gently past the coast from anchorage out almost to North West Point.

No Whale Sharks for us, although we heard they were out there that day.

In some maritime compensation we saw a manta ray glide under the boat and had a largish pod of dolphins hang around for a couple of hours.

These Spinner dolphins play all day.

Jumping out of the ocean Spinners rotate vigorously like a corkscrew and land at obtuse angles with a massive splash any chance they get.

One image captures a Spinner mid air, upside down and on the way to an undignified splashdown. It was wonderful.

 

Today, our last full day here, attended to my final tour, did a filmed interview with video journalists, completed unscathed our last Hash run, gave away our kitchen contents and began the forlorn task of packing suitcases.

 

And after five months we are leaving, with:

Many new friends,

Heaps of rewarding experiences,

A plan to come back,

Days of invigorating jungle exploration,

Plenty of photos,

A positive influence within the community,

An apparent good reputation,

Quite a number of people who are legitimately sad to see us leave,

Quite a few who genuinely want to see us return,

No criminal convictions,

No known enemies,

No tropical diseases,

No non-tropical diseases,

Total of 74 CI Hash runs now under my belt [21 to Jody]

And no outstanding debts.

 

Have loved it here.

 

That’s it, must go, gotta plane to catch!

 

Keith (and Jody who is by the door, waiting for me to lift the suitcases into the car)

  

U not on My MySpace no moa =( butt u onz Royal Big Teezez... me still miss u...muah ={)

 

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------

From: Lowie Boy

Date: Jun 23, 2007 11:17 PM

  

1. EVER BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT RING?

Nope

 

2. LONGEST RELATIONSHIP?

Just under 5 years, so I'll call it ... 5.

 

3. LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?

Okay I remember ... my brother Teeze was pizzaid and bought me a frickin' mean white longsleeve collared shirt. Oh, and uhh ... just because ... uhh ... just because - no reason.

 

4. EVER DROPPED A CELL PHONE?

Many times! I got a funny story about that. I found a brand new Motorola phone, I mean the person must have bought it that day, plus it was a fairly expensive phone. Well, it was off, and needed a pin, so I couldn't find a number to call anyone to get it back to it's owner (honest kine, I tried). Anyway, I kept it haha. I was so stoked that I found a brand new phone. That very night I was skanking to reggae in the parking lot of work, and my new phone launched out of my pocket, and onto the pavement. When I picked it up, I noticed that it had immediately turned into a "used" phone ... true story.

 

5. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?

Thursday evening at the Kapiolani 24 Hour Fitness before Lover's Rock 2.

 

6. THING(S) YOU SPEND A LOT OF MONEY ON?

Fuel for the gas-guzzler.

 

7. LAST FOOD YOU ATE?

Tuna & Egg omlette

 

8. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX?

If she's got a sense of humor. (Looks of course though ... who doesn't?)

 

9. ONE FAVORITE SONG?

Send My Love performed by Born Jamericans

 

10. WHERE DO YOU LIVE

Wai'anae

 

11. HIGH SCHOOL YOU ATTENDED:

Home of the Seariders ... Wai'anae High School

 

12. CELL PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER:

T-Mobile

 

13. FAVORITE MALL STORE:

Not sure ...

 

14. LONGEST JOB YOU'VE EVER HAD:

Military Service (Regular Army)

 

15. DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF DICE?:

Used to

 

16. DO YOU PRANK CALL PEOPLE?:

No

 

17. LAST WEDDING YOU ATTENDED?:

Sione's Wedding

 

18. FIRST FRIEND YOU'D CALL IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY?: The very first would be Teeze, then Jase, Kenz & TK

 

19. LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BEST FRIEND?:

About 10 minutes ago (EH IF YOU'RE IN THE OTHER PRODUCTION ROOM ON MYSPACE AND READING THIS TEEZE ... HURRY UP!) LOL just kidding bredge.

 

20. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT?:

Wendy's

 

21. BIGGEST LIE YOU HAVE EVER HEARD?:

I can't think of any

 

22. MULTIPLE EARRINGS OR SINGLE HOLES?:

Single

 

23. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO EAT WITH FRIENDS?

Wailanas after a night out (TK got this on the nose ... so true!)

 

24. CAN YOU COOK?:

HELL YEAH! I used to be the cook of the house, sounds funny, but the men in my family are the cooks. Anything from Stews, Stir Fry, Pastas (anykine), Lasagnas, Chili, Seafood entrees, Roasts ... whatever you can think of (from scratch)! Just ask the bredrens who know me. Oh, my favorite thing to make is a dessert called "Banana Fosters." Put butter on the frying pan and melt it, then you put in the brown sugar, then place in the chopped up bananas, then you pour in Bacardi 151. Let it sit for a bit, then light the braddah on fire and burn out the alcohol until the fire dies. Pour that over some vanilla ice cream and it's the best!!!

 

25. WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE?:

2002 Toyota RAV4

 

26. BEST KISSER?:

C'mon, that's a secret. Besides ... gentlemen never tell ... or do they?

 

27. LAST TIME YOU CRIED?:

I wouldn't call it crying, but teared a few drops thinking of my gramps.

 

28. MOST DISLIKED FOODS?:

Liver

 

29. THING YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF?:

Everything. I'd have to say my creative & musical side of me though.

 

30. THING YOU DISLIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF?:

I dislike the fact that I have a hard time accepted gifts/presents/ or when people want to pay for me, and the fact that I have a hard time saying NO to others.

 

31. ARBY'S OR BURGER KING?:

Arby's

 

32. LONGEST SHIFT YOU HAVE WORKED AT A JOB?:

24 hour-duty when you're in the military. Our company was in charge of watching the Battalion Headquarters sometimes, and each soldier had their turn in pulling a 24 hour shift. It was cool though, you got the next day and a half off!

 

33. FAVORITE MOVIE?

It used to be Glory, but when 50 First Dates came out, that was it!

 

34. CAN YOU SING?

Hahaha ... I try.

 

35. LAST CONCERT ATTENDED?:

Lover's Rock 2 with Opihi Pickers, Kaipo Kapua, BW, Ikena Du Pont & Next Generation.

 

36. LAST KISS?

No comment

 

37. LAST MOVIE RENTED?:

Prestiege

 

38. ONE THING YOU NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT?:

I once learned a phrase from a previous friend of mine, so I stuck with it when leaving the house. It's "Phone, wallet, keys!"

 

39. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT?

Hmm ... the last time I went to L.A., I had a blast. I'm heading up there within the next few months. Chee hee!

 

40. DO YOU LOVE "PAGE 2" AT GOOFYAUCTIONS.COM?:

??????????????????

 

41. ARE YOU A FAN OF RICE CAKES?:

Nope, a fan of Rice!

 

42. ESPN OR ESPN2?:

Doesn't matter.

 

43. LAPTOP OR DESKTOP COMPUTER?:

Desktop

 

44. FAVORITE COMEDIAN?:

Dane Cook (watch him in the Vicious Circle ... frickin hilarious!)

 

45. DO YOU SMOKE?

Nothing!

 

46. SLEEP WITH OR WITHOUT CLOTHES?

Boxers or no boxers at all.

 

48. DO LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS WORK?:

Never been in one ... not sure how it would be, but if you're in love, then I'd say that it could work.

 

49. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?

5 times ... 3 for speeding ... and 1 for skateboarding ... the other well .... uhh ... let's not go there ... that's what I said.

 

50. PANCAKES OR FRENCH TOAST?

Pancakes

 

51. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE?:

Not much

 

52. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?

FREE!

 

53. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY?:

I dunno actually, sometimes it can be true, but mostly ... I just believe in God.

 

54. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?:

Ikena

 

55. LAST PERSON ON YOUR MISSED CALL LIST?:

Elisa

 

56. WHAT WAS THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECEIVED?

 

"Hi Lowie. What doing tonight?" (exactly like that) LOL sorry V.

 

57. CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF WITH NIPPLE RINGS?:

NO WAY!

 

58. NUMBER OF PILLOWS?:

2

 

59. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?:

Shorts & tang top

 

60. PICK A LYRIC, ANY LYRIC?:

 

Quoting the song "For You" by David Ryan Harris:

 

There ain't nothing strong enough

To keep me away from you

There could be a wall of fire

Ten feet or higher

I would just walk on through

Where there once was only room for one

Forever there will be two

That's why I travel all this way for you

To you

For you

 

Check this song out (mean song) at: myspace.com/davidryanharris

 

61. WHAT KIND OF JELLY DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PB & J?:

Skippy creamy peanut butter and Guava jelly!

 

62. CAN YOU PLAY POOL?:

I could ... but I can't say I'm any good.

 

63. CAN YOU SWIM?:

I was made in and born for the water!

 

64. FAVORITE ICE CREAM?:

Mint Chocolate Chip and/or Cookies & Creme

 

65. DO YOU LIKE MAPS?:

Yup ... especially when you're LOST!

 

66. TELL ME A RANDOM FACT ABOUT YOURSELF?:

I wrote a song named "Random Chick" for my upcoming album.

 

67. ARE YOU A FAN OF TATTOOS?:

They look cool sometimes, but I never got one, and don't plan on getting one.

 

68. EVER ATTEND A THEME PARTY?:

Halloween & Christmas parties

 

69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?:

Winter ... for the cold air.

 

70. LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING STUPID?:

Watching Family Guy ... that show is hilarious

 

71. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING?:

At about 11:00am

 

72. BEST THING ABOUT WINTER?:

I know that Christmas is coming! chee hee!

 

73. LAST TIME A COP GAVE YOU A TICKET?:

In 2005 I worked across the street from my (previous) home in Waikiki, at Red Lobster. I used to ride my gravity board to work (2 minutes up the street, no sense in losing my street parking right?). After work, I was cruising down Hobron Lane going home, not doing crazy tricks (how can you on a gravity board) and some rookie cop pulled me over and gave me a ticket for skateboarding in Waikiki. I think it was something like $62 or $72, can't remember. Ridiculous! It was dismissed in court though ... the braddah had chicken scratch handwriting, so the judge dismissed me. She couldn't read it ... I couldn't read it.

 

74. JESUS?:

IS DA MAN!

 

75. NAME OF YOUR FIRST PET?:

Puhina

 

76. DO YOU THINK PIRATES ARE COOL OR OVERRATED?:

stupid question ( <------ yeah what TK said)

 

77. WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS WEEKEND?:

party like a rockstar. ( <------ yeah what TK said again)

 

78. BIRTHDATE?:

October 8

 

79. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE?

Famous! lol who doesn't

 

81. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL?

Yup

 

82. DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SEE ANYONE PARTICULAR RIGHT NOW?

Yes I do.

 

83. WHAT JEWELRY ARE YOU WEARING?

My grandfather's white gold ring he gave me before he passed away, my dogtags, a Vestal watch and my earrings.

 

84. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO AFTER THIS SURVEY?

Headed to the gym, THEN TO A PARTY! CHEE HEE!

 

85. ARE YOU ON A LAPTOP?:

Nope, using a desktop here at work, Island 98.5

 

86. CEREAL OR POP-TARTS?

Pop-tarts, I love those things

 

87. ARE YOU SMILING?:

Always

 

88. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A CRUISE?:

Yes, many times.

 

89. DO YOU MISS SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?:

Yes I do.

 

90. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHERE WOULD YOU GO?:

Right now ... I'd go to Europe on a frickin' site-seeing frenzy

 

91. DO YOU LIKE BEAN BURRITOS?:

Rahjah dat!

 

92. ARE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?:

LOL ... nope.

 

94. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NAME?

Lowen (my given first name). The night my mother was giving birth to me, my dad was getting wasted at a party lol. He was drinking Lowenbrau beer (still around). When he found out my mom was giving birth, he decided that he'd name me Lowen. Thank God he wasn't drinking Primo, Heineken or Budweiser ... just imagine ... "Eh ... howzit braddah Primo ... sup Heiney ... eh, how you been ... Bud?

 

95. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHING SUIT?:

Black, red, yellow, green & white boardshorts

 

97. DID YOU GO ON VACATION LAST MONTH?:

Yup

 

98. ANY PLANS FOR A NEW PIERCING THIS YEAR?:

How's a Prince Albert sound? NEGS!

 

99. DO YOU HAVE A SISTER?:

The youngest of my siblings ... Tiahni.

 

100. ARE YOU UPSTAIRS?:

Yup, 4th floor of the Castle & Cook building at work, Clear Channel Communications KDNN Island 98.5 (listen to me on-air on Sundays 10am-3pm or 6pm-10pm ... whichever they schedule me! lol)

 

Shoots den Hawaiians. - L.B.

 

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

 

per L.B.z request....here's Lourz Q N A'z

 

**** lourz

 

1. EVER BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT RING?

wot wuz duh question?

 

2. LONGEST RELATIONSHIP?

10 years...all pow!! Thank God!!! Next Relationship....

 

3. LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?

From D Almighty? Choke...still coming.... =) all good wit meh!!

 

4. EVER DROPPED A CELL PHONE?

Choke times...still waiting on a Gyrlee fone from ICOM I'ts Michael...all man fonez unfortunatleh...suits me I guess..I'm n a relationship where I where duh boxers n he wear's crotchless panties..... ;)

 

5. WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?

Monday Nite @ duh Ypahu Dist Park...boxing...chee hu!!! kick sum major bagz...36 peepoz n dat las' class =)

 

6. THING(S) YOU SPEND A LOT OF MONEY ON?

Fuel for the gas-guzzler. (chus like u Lowie Boy)

 

7. LAST FOOD YOU ATE?

Pepperoni Pizza from Domino'z Pizza

 

8. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX?

dat deh alwayz staring like ai keht juan hangah comin out mai nose ;)

 

9. ONE FAVORITE SONG?

Ho'okoa's "Never Leave Your Side"

 

10. WHERE DO YOU LIVE

Spouting Water/Gunpowder=Ypahu

 

11. HIGH SCHOOL YOU ATTENDED:

Ypahu High School home of duh Marauders WesSide o'course

 

12. CELL PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER:

NEXTEL

 

13. FAVORITE MALL STORE:

All ai suppose

 

14. LONGEST JOB YOU'VE EVER HAD:

working for the man upstairs...deh Creator of all...helping tuh find LOST souls for 37yrs now =)

 

15. DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF DICE?:

no, God don't play or roll dice =)

 

16. DO YOU PRANK CALL PEOPLE?:

No, My Son Dean does...funneh poi yea know...

 

17. LAST WEDDING YOU ATTENDED?:

ai donno...ai know ai went tuh choke....

 

18. FIRST FRIEND YOU'D CALL IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY?: Positive frenz like Ohana First o'course

 

19. LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BEST FRIEND?:

On MySpace o'course ;)

 

20. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT?:

N E tang ai C ai Eat....

 

21. BIGGEST LIE YOU HAVE EVER HEARD?:

biggiest lie, like lie down position aka Moena?

Mai Sawah Dream Poi's position (LOL)

 

22. MULTIPLE EARRINGS OR SINGLE HOLES?:

Multiple...4 on each lobe o'course

 

23. WHERE'S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO EAT WITH FRIENDS?

where ever IZ good with meh...group dates I luv...duh Ohana bonding IZ duh best kind and hanging out with positive frenz o'course...no rm 4 negative frenz... =)

 

24. CAN YOU COOK?:

yea...wot evaz...n ai like too watch dem cooking shows. but I hardleh watch TV these days. only wen d kidz r wit meh =) I think I've watched 2 much TV or Enuff TV 4 a life time... =)

 

25. WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE?:

2006 Toyota Sienna Van

 

26. BEST KISSER?:

meh? u like sampo? ai kahtah practice peh foa mai dream poi mek his Mufi ;)

 

27. LAST TIME YOU CRIED?:

duh deh aftah mai cuzzin Roxeh left 4 Cali/Vegas...das juan ov mai uka million aka choke life saverz =) brought me back tuh reality here at the North Shore...luv n miss her... =( owh n wen I drop off may Baby G Hunter 2 family house before work...she wants meh tuh steh home with her 4everz =( owh well...such IZ life

 

28. MOST DISLIKED FOODS?:

ai donno...erreh tan ai c ai eat ;) ...owh ai know...spoiled food (LOL)

 

29. THING YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF?:

chus mai pleasant self...everyone keeps saying I'm pleasant so PLEASANT it IZ aka Galatians 5:22-23 chus like mai Bday...chee hu!!!

 

30. THING YOU DISLIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF?:

chus like u...ai cannot seh no tuh others...but if u no moa time foa negative peeps...trow dem pak n duh O-shen if deh no like listen tuh yo advise duh 1st time around (LOL)

 

31. ARBY'S OR BURGER KING?:

Arby's ... burger king keht too much stalkers ;)

 

32. LONGEST SHIFT YOU HAVE WORKED AT A JOB?:

37yrs n counting...for the Almighteh!!!

 

33. FAVORITE MOVIE?

rite now "the ride"

 

34. CAN YOU SING?

no not realleh...n if I do, I'll b Ntoxicated n song that I'd sing..."LaBamba"

 

35. LAST CONCERT ATTENDED?:

D Father's Day ShinDig @ Cheerleader's N 82 Fifty!! n choke moa B foa dat...

 

36. LAST KISS?

wit all my kids n ohana o'course ={)Muah!!!

 

37. LAST MOVIE RENTED?:

Leroy N Stitch for Hunter cuz "the ride" wuz not there =(

 

38. ONE THING YOU NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT?:

...chus like u Lowie Boy...It's "Phone, wallet, keys!"

 

39. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT?

Turtle Bay Resort...n N E place where we do Family Bonding N Get 2getherz =)

 

40. DO YOU LOVE "PAGE 2" AT GOOFYAUCTIONS.COM?:

?????????????????? chus like u Lowie Boy

 

41. ARE YOU A FAN OF RICE CAKES?:

yea, I luv it

 

42. ESPN OR ESPN2?:

either or...if I'm watching...I luv sports

 

43. LAPTOP OR DESKTOP COMPUTER?:

Both

 

44. FAVORITE COMEDIAN?:

N E hu ken mek me n mai Ohana laff =0 out loud

 

45. DO YOU SMOKE?

nope, onleh 2nd hand

 

46. SLEEP WITH OR WITHOUT CLOTHES?

Boxers n Tank Top

 

48. DO LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS WORK?:

Been n one n it was hard...but if d luv IZ real...y not....

 

49. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?

Choke...but no tickets..got one n fot it...1 cop gave me a ticket while I parked at a handicap stall N kailua...nutten better 2 do ai kess ;)

 

50. PANCAKES OR FRENCH TOAST?

both

 

51. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE?:

It has tuh B cold cuz Im always HOT... ;)

 

52. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?

over E zeh babeh ;)

 

53. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY?:

it's onleh 4 entertainment but chus like u, I just believe in God.

 

54. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?:

My Best Fren 4everz Marj on my number 2 Top 40 Frenz on MySpace...thanking me for teaching her neice Gabby, Keali'i Reichel's song "Kauanoeanuhea" las' week Thursday nite =)

 

55. LAST PERSON ON YOUR MISSED CALL LIST?:

Ludy Capitle...for a rm at the Hellton july 3-5 2007 2 watch sum fireworks wit duh rest of duh Madriagaz =)

 

56. WHAT WAS THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECEIVED?

 

"Hey u i am in texas. Here 4 a month. It really sucks. Hope u doing good."

 

from Jay Bermudez...one of the Air Natl Gauardz Peeps

 

57. CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF WITH NIPPLE RINGS?:

NO WAY! chus like u lowie boy

 

58. NUMBER OF PILLOWS?:

2 chus like u lowie boy

 

59. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?:

Shorts & tang top ...chus like u lowie boy...wit mai swim clothes still under neat..supposed 2 go back n duh pool but 2 kids r out cold...supposed 2 go crab hunting 2 but still out cold =)

 

60. PICK A LYRIC, ANY LYRIC?:

Fiji's Nothing comes to Sleepers but a dream? ai tank?

das my son's lullabye by the way...wen he wuz a baby =)

 

61. WHAT KIND OF JELLY DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PB & J?:

hah? no mek sense dis question? but I Luv Peanut Butter N Jelly =) owh...now ai keht it...kuavah jelleh on sum bodehz belleh aftah he flips ova...rajahdat ;) 10-4

 

62. CAN YOU PLAY POOL?:

yea, but I am not the best... =)

 

63. CAN YOU SWIM?:

N shallow area ;) ai can float ;) u like teach meh? born n raised here n dont know really how...hee hee hee

 

64. FAVORITE ICE CREAM?:

Mint Chocolate Chip and/or Cookies & Creme/Vanilla/Koffee...n e tang good =)

 

65. DO YOU LIKE MAPS?:

Yup ... especially when you're LOST! chus like u or koh on MapQuest print out n der u go...not LOST =)

 

66. TELL ME A RANDOM FACT ABOUT YOURSELF?:

I Luv My Creator for Creating Me 4 ALL 2 C =)

 

67. ARE YOU A FAN OF TATTOOS?:

Yea, I plan 2 get 1 more on mai opu nui (big tummy) that will read "N God We Thrust!" j/j kidding hee hee hee ;)

 

68. EVER ATTEND A THEME PARTY?:

CHOKE n ai am duh party j/j hee hee hee

 

69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?:

all ai suppose =).

 

70. LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING STUPID?:

Watching sum talent on America on TV with d kidz

 

71. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING?:

At about 8:21am

 

72. BEST THING ABOUT WINTER?:

It's gonna peh COLD...I Luv =)

 

73. LAST TIME A COP GAVE YOU A TICKET?:

2005 @ Auntie Ellen Castillo's Hula Studio Parking Lot wen I parked in the HandiCap Stall..all good...n e tang tuh support mai oldest Baby G Chas...Miss Keiki Hula 3rd Runner up!!! Chee Hu!!!

 

www.flickr.com/photos/22670728@N08/

 

www.flickr.com/photos/25451821@N06/

 

74. JESUS?:

IS DA MAN!

 

75. NAME OF YOUR FIRST PET?:

Kama Pua'a ;) Pig Child

 

76. DO YOU THINK PIRATES ARE COOL OR OVERRATED?:

hah? rated r? ;)

 

77. WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS WEEKEND?:

relaxing o'course on duh North Shore and observing erreh tang n n e tang mai ear n eye site (LOL) ken hear n seh

 

78. BIRTHDATE?:

May 22-23 aka Galatians 5:22-23 (read it n duh Bible Peepoz)

(party like a rockstar 2days)

 

79. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE?

Famous! lol who doesn't ... chus like u lowie boy ;)

 

81. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL?

Yup wit mai 3 babies...giving birth that IZ...such a blessing =) ai tell yeoo!!!

 

82. DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SEE ANYONE PARTICULAR RIGHT NOW?

Yes I do. but still his Mufi not Mai Nee E How....

 

83. WHAT JEWELRY ARE YOU WEARING?

4 earrings on each ear lobe

 

84. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO AFTER THIS SURVEY?

showah n shlep ai tank...ai kess no crab hunting on duh pitch...dean wants tuh go...owh well =( another nite...2morrow @ white plains or kalaeloa maypeh?

 

85. ARE YOU ON A LAPTOP?:

yes I am

 

86. CEREAL OR POP-TARTS?

both

 

87. ARE YOU SMILING?:

Always ... chus like yeooo

 

88. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A CRUISE?:

wot kine cruz? boat? yea...wit Hawn Muzak o'course =)

 

89. DO YOU MISS SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?:

Yes I do. still his Mufi, not Mai Nee E How =(

 

90. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHERE WOULD YOU GO?:

Right now ... tuh peh wit mai sawah dream poi...nuffsedd aka nuffsed aka ENuff

 

91. DO YOU LIKE BEAN BURRITOS?:

Rahjah dat! ... chus like yeooo

 

92. ARE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?:

LOL ... nope. chus like yeooo

 

94. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NAME?

Lour...my pest fren fo'evaz shortend it for me juan deh..bes fren fo'evaz marj on mai numbah 2 o'course.den erreh juan else followed =)

 

95. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHING SUIT?:

periwinkle (blue/purple)

 

97. DID YOU GO ON VACATION LAST MONTH?:

yea on vacation now...Turtle Bay Resort =) so like Heaven ai tell yeoo!!!

 

98. ANY PLANS FOR A NEW PIERCING THIS YEAR?:

How's a Prince Albert sound? NEGS! chus like yeoo!!!

 

99. DO YOU HAVE A SISTER?:

Mirm, Magz n all mai chic cuzzin o'course... =)

 

100. ARE YOU UPSTAIRS?:

Yup, 6th flr rm 653 at duh Turtle Bay Resort..checking out 2morrow @ 5pm ai hope...I have tuh call d front desk.

 

KDNN...dis fish IZ out like juan trout but not like kama pua'a aka humuhumunukunukuapua'a =)

 

smooches n hugz 2 all...copy n paste fuh mai dream poi paleez!!! muah ={) 10-Q Lowie Boy...have fun 2nite n B safe!

 

yo sistren...sista Lour

 

88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88

 

Row Call June 22 - 24, 2007 Turtle Bay Resort (Honolulu Advertiser 150 years Free Braddah IZ single "Wonderful World") owh teacher from Hawai'i Kai...heh heh heh

Mother/Auntie Lourdes S Madriaga

Children: Dean Dino Smith II, Hunter Anela Jean Smith, Richie Gage Gabres, Alexis Padilla Collins 2 nights

Teens: Demi Lyn Ku'ulei Smith, Adam and friend 1st night only

 

Yes Marj...it was jus' me and the kids.... =) they all deserved it...and they all listened to me and love staying at the Turtle Bay Resort...so a Heaven for us all...

 

www.flickr.com/photos/30869619@N04/

 

88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88 88

 

Game My Life Lyrics

Featuring: Lil' Wayne Lyrics

Songwriters: Carter, Dwayne; Taylor, Jayceon Terrell;

 

[Chorus: Lil’ Wayne]

 

And I’m grindin’ til I’m tired

They say "You ain’t grindin’ til you tired"

So I’m grindin’ with my eyes wide

Looking to find

A way

Through the day

A life

For the night

Dear Lord, you’ve done took so many of my people but I’m just wonderin’ why

You haven’t taken (my life? x3)

Like what the hell am I (doing right? x3)

(My Life x3)

 

[Verse 1: The Game]

 

Take me away from the hood like a state penitentiary

Take me away from the hood in the casket or a Bentley

Take me away

Like I overdosed on cocaine

Or take me away like a bullet from Kurt Cobain

Suicide (Suicide..suicide..)

I'm from a Windy City, like "Do or Die"

From a block close to where Biggie was crucified

That was Brooklyn's Jesus

Shot for no f**kin' reason

And you wonder why Kanye wears Jesus pieces? (My Life x3)

'Cause that's Jesus people

And The Game, he's the equal

Hated on so much, "The Passion of Christ" need a sequel

Yeah, like Roc-a-fella needed Sigel

Like I needed my father, but he needed a needle (My Life x3)

I need some meditation, so I can leave my people

They askin' “Why?" Why did John Lennon leave The Beatles?

And why every hood nigga feed off evil?

Answer my question before this bullet leave this Desert Eagle

 

[Chorus: Lil’ Wayne]

 

And I’m grindin’ til I’m tired

They say "You ain’t grindin’ til you tired"

So I’m grindin’ with my eyes wide

Looking to find

A way

Through the day

A life

For the night

Dear Lord, you’ve done took so many of my people but I’m just wonderin’ why

You haven’t taken (my life? x3)

Like what the hell am I (doing right? x3)

(My Life x3)

 

[Verse 2: The Game]

 

We are not the same, I am a Martian

So approach my Phantom doors with caution (caution...caution)

You see them 24's spinnin'? I earned them

And I ain't no preacher, but here's my Erick Sermon

So eat this black music, and tell me how it taste, now?

And f**k Jesse Jackson cause it ain't about race, now

Sometimes I think about my life with my face down

Then I see my sons and put on that Kanye smile (My Life x3)

Damn, I know his momma's proud

And since you helped me sell my dream, we can share my momma now

And like MJB, "No More Drama" now

Livin’ the +good life+, me and Common on common ground

I spit crack and niggas could drive it outta town

Gotta Chris Paul mind state, I'm never outta bounds

My life used to be empty like a glock without a round

Now my life full, like a chopper with a thousand rounds (Gunshots)

 

[Chorus: Lil’ Wayne]

 

And I’m grindin’ 'til I’m tired

They say "You ain’t grindin’ 'til you tired"

So I’m grindin’ with my eyes wide

Looking to find

A way

Through the day

A life

For the night

Dear Lord you’ve done took so many of my people but I’m just wonderin’ why

You haven’t taken (my life? x3)

Like what the hell am I (doing right? x3)

(My Life x3)

 

[Verse 3: The Game]

 

Walk through the gates of Hell, see my Impala parked in front

The high beams on, me and the Devil share chronic blunts

Listening to the "Chronic" album, playing backwards

Shootin’ at pictures of Don Imus for target practice

My mind f**ked up, so I cover it with a Raider hood

I'm from the city that made you motherf**kers afraid of Suge (Compton... Compton...)

Made my grandmother pray for good

And never made her happy, when I bet that new Mercedes could (My Life x3)

Ain't no bars, but niggas can't escape the hood

They took so many of my niggas, that I should hate the hood

But it's real niggas like me, that make the hood

Ridin' slow in that Phantom just the way I should (My Life x3)

With the top back

In my Sox hat

I'm paid in full, the nigga Alpo couldn't stop that

Even if they brought the nigga 'Pac back

I'd still keep this motherf**ker cocked back

 

[Chorus: Lil’ Wayne]

 

And I’m grindin’ til I’m tired

They say "You ain’t grindin’ til you tired"

So I’m grindin’ with my eyes wide

Looking to find

A way

Through the day

A life

For the night

Dear Lord you’ve done took so many of my people but I’m just wonderin’ why

You haven’t taken (my life x3)

Like what the hell am I (doing right? x3)

(My Life x3)

(My Life x3)

(My Life x3)

(My Life x3)

Well Ive been gone from NYC so long people think Im not coming back....... :-/ ...... Its crazy...... I gotta get home...... JE's phone is down..... Amin and Candy has given up talking to me...... MinhTu cant believe Im still away....... Greg has rolled off in the Beast car...... I have not seen a yellow cab for weeks....... its doin my brains in now......... Hey I even missed the Halloween Parade...... now thats just nutz.........so heres a mega happy one from before........ combining a bit of yellow cab and Halloween Partying.........

 

Stuff is happening in NYC good and bad........ and I don't even know whats goin down .......... I've got to get back home.......... I want to see yellow cabs and my friends..........

 

Today..... here in London ...... I got a press release from the NYC Taxi Worker's Alliance inviting me to a press conference to let media folks speak to taxi driver Ndiaye Serigne who had a completely different experience of Halloween........ He was sadly attacked by a group of passengers on Halloween night ......... which is a terrible thing...... my picture above has the happy side of Halloween for drivers and others but Ndiaye Serigne was having the completely opposite experience......... robbed and beaten by young men wearing Halloween Masks he said he felt lucky to still be alive ....... as I was reading the press release the danger of being a driver alone with sometimes dangerous members of the public started to sink in.........

 

"The New York Taxi Workers Alliance is calling for state legislation that would mandate prosecution of assaults and other crimes against taxi drivers a felony. A similar law already exists for on-duty transit workers and traffic agents."

 

"Taxi driving has been classified by the Department of Labor as one of the most dangerous professions in the country, with drivers being 60 times more likely to be killed on the job than other workers. Driver Zawar Jaffri lost his eye sight temporarily after a female passenger attempting to run away before paying the fare sprayed mace in his eyes and ears on October 7th at 8:00 am in Brooklyn. "The public has no fear to do anything against us. They think we are alone," said Mr. Jaffri. "At least if we had a sticker saying a crime against the driver is a felony up to seven years in jail, right next to the passenger bill of rights, they would know that the driver is also an equal human being." "

 

Cheers Jez XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

www.jezblog.com

planetmosh.com/nick-walsh-of-famous-underground-interview...

  

Here's the interview portion of March's Featured Band series in-depth reports, an interview with vocalist Nick Walsh of Canadian hard rockers Famous Underground. This was conducted in March 2014, by Iris North. Excerpts of the 69 minute chitchat follow:

 

First off, I'd like to thank you for granting this interview, and thank you for the good music. I even got to hear some of your Slik Toxik material through a friend who's operating a radio station - Kyle Sweet at KrankIt! Radio. I remember thinking "Nick has been this good, for this long." It's impressive. How did you get wrapped up in this business to begin with?

 

Well, thank you. Thank you, very much. It's something that's ingrained in me, since I was a very young lad. I've been in love with music since I was about four or five years old, when I had my first "KISS experience". And, it's never left me. It's something that I pursued at a very young age, and I started playing nightclubs when I was 14. Previous to that, at my public school, while other kids were doing other things for talent shows or whatnot, I was putting together rock bands. (laughs)

 

Belated congratulations: you guys went gold, and even took home a Juno award. You could have retired on that, musically speaking.

 

Yes, yes that is correct. You know what's funny? People always say things like 'oh, I achieved this' and I could say I got where I needed to be or whatever, and I'd be happy. Well, not me. It's not that I'm never satisfied. It's that to me, it's something that was never a hobby. It was always a lifestyle, and still is.

 

Is Famous Underground sort of a joke, like "we're huge in Japan"?

 

Yeah, right, ey? Actually, the title came from my wife. With one of our guitar players, we were having a conversation. This was just previous to us naming the band Famous Underground. He was saying how he was a Slik Toxik fan, and he was kind of thrilled that he was at my home, and we were having a dinner together. And he thought 'wow, this is cool! I used to learn your songs before. Slik Toxik tunes, and play with my buddies, and now here I am, going to get the chance to play with you.' And I was like 'give me a break, buddy. We're just musicians, we're going to have a good time.' And my wife says, "oh, yeah, Nick, he's famous underground." I went 'oh my God, that sounds amazing!' And I didn't even think of it as a band name. I thought of it, more a brand name for something. You know, some sort of...

 

Jeans.

 

Jeans, there you go! Famous Underground jeans. Anything, right? The opportunity came to name the band, and I went "Eureka!" I mean, that would be perfect, because it's a bit of an oxymoron. Music, heavy metal, hard rock music, you know, it tends to go in cycles: to be underground, and then yet, it comes back up and it's commercial again, and accepted. Then it goes back underground. There's a bit of a spin on the name, and it means so many different things.

 

And the FU initials!

 

Yeah. Again, at that point, that was a fluke. That was actually something that just sort-of... a friend of mine pointed it out to me. I was so blind to it. Normally, I'm pretty good at these sort-of cryptic things, and that one just didn't stick out like a sore thumb to me. And when they said "FU" I was like "Oh my God!" I didn't even put two and two together for that one. "Genius!" That's good branding when you don't realize you've got something... a double entendre or whatever, so there ya go. Actually, the second record, we've been toying with the idea of FU2. (laughs)

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nI9I9ekK8v8

 

You guys originally recorded this a few years ago. Why'd you decide to re-release the album - do you feel you'd get wider exposure?

 

Well, everyone keeps saying that. Re-release, re-release. It was independent before. Therefore, it wasn't so much of a re-release, because the only place it was made available was through our shows, our website: things like that. It wasn't actually physically in stores. Our 'underground' (smiles) following were able to get it via the Internet. But as far as an official release goes, it didn't have one. So, we were fortunate enough that it didn't get overly exposed enough to become 'old news'. Once we got management out of Europe, we sought a record deal to release it "proper". And we did attain that. The actual, what I would call the real release, was just June of last year. It hasn't even been out for a year yet. Worldwide, (it's) made available in stores throughout the US, and England, and other places in Europe, as well as Japan. So, it wasn't so much of a re-release - again, as I said, as an official release.

   

I like how the songs are really well thought-out, and 'Los Angeles school' produced. They're slick as snot, loaded with hooks & attitude, from hardball to tender and back again. You've got all the variety, bells and whistles here.

 

(laughs) Thanks. Yeah, it's something that I found in hard rock specifically, because we're a hybrid of hard rock and heavy metal. You can hear that in our songs. And I found that a lot of the 'attitude' that was in hard rock, let's say from the early 90s or the late 80s, has disappeared.

 

You even infuse that attitude in to your vocals.

 

(A) slight elements of sleaze, but snarly... I take my snarl from the old school of Alice Cooper, and 'that kind of thing'. You have to have a bit of a sarcastic wit, and clever sorts of plays on words and stuff, to be able to come across that way. And if you're just singing... I don't know. I'm not trying to say that whatever we're doing is better then anybody else. I just find that what we do has been missing for a long time in certain genres of the hard rock field. I like the snide sort of... guys like Alice Cooper, and Dave Mustaine. Stuff like that, so I kind of put a little bit of that in to our songs.

 

One of the things about the songwriting, as well, is that I always like to sort-of play out a 'yin and yang' scenario in my songs, whether it be... Because I have a bit of a character voice, where I'll sing with that snarl, that sort of snide attitude thing, and then I get to the chorus, it'll give you a little bit of this angelic vindication or something, where it becomes more nicey-nice, and then gets back to the nitty-gritty kind of thing. Or, vice versa, where it's really nice in the verses, and then the chorus hits, and it gets a little nasty or whatever. I like to have that colorful sort of thing with the songs. So, not only would it reflect in the words, but even melodically or musically, you get that sense of balance between good and evil. (laughs) Ya know what I mean?

 

Yep. One thing I like about you guys is that you can pull it off live. The vocals aren't all Auto-Tuned, the arrangements aren't all studio layers. What you hear on the album is pretty much what you hear live. (Live sounds crunchier and heavier, which I like.) So when fans get the album, they're getting the real you, not the you "dolled-up in nice clothes, with perfect hair", so to speak.

 

Thank you. Thank you.

   

Could you tell us a little bit about your former bands (Revolver and Slik Toxik)?

 

Slik Toxik was a band that formed out of a band that I had as a teenager, called Portrait. It was one of those kinds of situations where I was playing with a couple of high-school buddies. Then, as things got a little bit more serious, we had to go kind-of outside that pool of musicians, and attract different people to the band. And, eventually, it became Slik Toxik. That was a band made up of many different kinds of people, as far as the musical landscape and influence go. There were guys in that band that were totally in to like the L.A rock scene - bands like Ratt, Dokken, Crue, and all that stuff. Then there were guys that were more in to the metal side of things, from Europe. Bands like Mercyful Fate, and some American bands like Queensryche, and Fates Warning, and stuff. So, again, to marry the two, was a really cool thing with Slik Toxik. That not only did we have that rock and roll "sex swagger" thing going on, but we could actually play our instruments.

 

(much laughter)

 

So, that's what was really cool about the Slik days, and we got a lot of notoriety, even in the US. We got to tour down there, we played with a bunch of bands. We toured with Yngwie Malmsteen, and Faster Pussycat, played with Overkill... you know, did all sorts of great stuff down there. We got played on the radio, got on Headbanger's Ball when MTV actually played videos...

 

You were on Headbanger's Ball?!

 

Oh yeah! I think somebody's posted it on YouTube. You can actually see (me) and my old guitar player Kevin Dale co-hosting with Ricky Rachtman or whatever, and... good times. (laughs)

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSfMdj1jllI

 

When did Laurie-Ann Green come on board?

 

When I formed Revolver, but previous to that, just after Slik Toxik, I had put together a little bit of an 'alt' rock band, because that was a very... the mid to late 90s for a lot of us, and when I say a lot of us, I mean people that come from my school or the genre of rock music, were in a state of flux, you know. I mean, you could interview a lot of bands, and they would give you the same story. After the whole grunge thing, and boy bands, and solo divas, and all that started ruling the airwaves, and changing the trends of music. We were all in a very confused state of mind. So, I formed a bit of a more 'alternative rock' band, trying to stay with the times, and progress a little bit. Expand my horizons, so to speak. And Laurie, I had seen from afar. She was in another band called Jane Doe, and I asked her if she'd play in the band, and she had loyalties to her band Jane Doe, but we remained friends. So, this band I was in, we were called Raised On Mars. We were playing around and stuff. We were using Laurie's band as a support act. We remained tight that way, and then, after things went for a turn, I got out of music for a little while, as far as being in a band was concerned. I opened a recording studio, and started producing. I decided after that, because I was producing all these young bands, and gettin' the fire again. I was like "I've got to get out there again." So, I contacted Laurie again, as to jump onboard as the bass player, and she said the timing was perfect. Because her band Jane Doe had broken up, and, you know, it was a good opportunity.

 

The rest is history: that was like 13 years ago. So, she played with me, with this Revolver band, which was the band that I was forming at the time. Revolver saw some good players in it. A friend of mine, Sean Kelly, who's doing quite well for himself right now, was one of the guitar players in the Revolver band. And he's gone on to play with Gilby Clark, and currently plays guitar for Nelly Furtado, and has a new band, called Four By Fate, with a couple of the guys that were from Frehley's Comet. Revolver was a band that again, was just formed out of me and my love for music. And writing. Because I owned a recording studio, it was one of those things, where I could have been writing the never-ending album, unless I had a deadline. And I finally did achieve a deadline, because I ended up getting a record deal, and having to deliver. (laughs)

 

How did you get involved with the Moxy project?

 

Oh, Moxy! Some friends of mine, that are in a band called Heaven's Fire (from Toronto here). The rhythm section started playing with Earl Johnson, the original member of Moxy, in the Moxy project. And they had another singer, by the name of Russ Graham: Russ "Dwarf" Graham, from The Killer Dwarves. And the Killer Dwarves are starting to do quite well again - they've re-united, and they're playing a lot. They're going on the Monsters Of Rock Cruise, and they're playing Rocklahoma this year and stuff. So, Russ didn't quite have the time for the Moxy project, that he had before. And they called me up and asked if I would do it. To be honest with ya, I didn't even know any of their music. They're a Toronto band from the late 70s, a classic rock band. And, I know the name, I saw the logo all my life: my brothers had the records, but I'd never heard them. And when they sent me some tracks to listen to, I thought 'sure, I could do this. I have the time, I like music, I like performing, Famous Underground's my baby which, I write (for), and produce the stuff. So, it's not like I'm going to be leaving that any time soon.' But, you know, I find that music these days, has become something, because of social media and everything, that artists are able to now expand, and spread out their talents with other people. You know, Dave Grohl... Dave Grohl's a great example. He has his Foo Fighters, which he's never going to leave. And then he'll go and play with Queens of the Stone Age, or... lucky him now, he gets to go play with guys like Sir Paul McCartney and whatnot. But the point is, to be able to do all these different things and keep busy, keep people interested... We live in that 'fast food era' now. So, out of sight, out of mind.

 

If you have enough in you, that you're able to be prolific enough to be able to write songs, co-write with other people, perform with other people, guest spot on this record, do this commercial - whatever. I mean, I had an opportunity, I just did the lead vocal part for a television show called Bay Warriors, which is part of the whole Bay Blades Japanimation, the Anime thing, which is huge. And my kid was thrilled, to see on the Cartoon Network or whatever, when this thing starts and he hears his dad's voice, singin' the theme song.

 

That's what I mean - it's just about keeping busy, and lending my talents here, or somebody lending their talents to me. And collaborating on things is so much fun. I mean, music has to be fun, especially for guys like me that have been doing it their whole lives. If it wasn't fun, I wouldn't be doin' it anymore. (smiles) It's my life. (laughs)

 

You mentioned that King Diamond was one of your vocal influences. He is the king of falsetto, "to beat the band".

 

Oh, totally. King Diamond... people have a love/hate thing with King Diamond. Either people can love the guy, and love what they do, and stuff, or they can't stand him. And that's how it is with the people around me. It's either they totally dig him, or they can't stand him. It took my wife a little while, for him to grow on her.

   

I saw King Diamond twice, but both times, I was actually there to see the opening band. So I unintentionally saw him live. Both times, he "brought it" and he sounded great, for what he does.

 

Oh, yeah? Who were the opening acts at the time, do you remember?

 

It would have been the late 1990s up until about 2001, so I'd say it was probably bands like Morbid Angel, Cannibal Corpse... stuff like that.

 

You like the heavy stuff, huh.

 

Yeah, I like death metal, and extreme metal, but I like hard rock too.

 

I like everything, as long as it's good. There's metal, there's hard rock, there's sleaze rock, there's this, that, the other thing. But, there's a lot of cheese in it too, right? So, I see black metal guys that I think are totally wicked. Like, I like Satyricon, and certain bands. And then I see other black metal bands, that I think 'you should just be at the circus, dude.' You know what I mean? (laughs)

 

It almost becomes a parody of itself.

 

That's it. Some things can, for example, black metal and the whole corpse(paint) thing. Some bands can sell it, and some bands can't. And when there's too many of the same sort of things out there, that's when somebody has to do something completely different, and squash it. Look at King Diamond. He's been doing that makeup thing... he started off with the whole corpse(paint) thing. If you look at really vintage Mercyful Fate stuff, I mean, he just had the black circles around his eyes, and white makeup on his face, and maybe an upside-down cross on his forehead or something. And all these guys now are taking that, and the whole sort of tribal tattoo thing, and...

It's funny, Gene Simmons actually told King Diamond that he had to change his makeup, some years ago. From around the time of Them. Because of the way he had his makeup stylings and everything. Gene Simmons said it was an infringement on his copyright or something. Meanwhile, Gene took it from a Japanese mask, a kabuki mask...

 

(King) always had top-shelf players in his band. Really high caliber musicians, like Snowy Shaw, Sharlee D'Angelo...

 

Oh, yeah. Snowy Shaw played drums, and meanwhile, Snowy Shaw's like a heavy lead vocalist.

 

Working back to your albums... your new album-to-be has that cheeky FU2 'tagline'.

 

Yes. (laughs) Well, that's the working title, but who knows what's going to happen, by the time it's done, right? But it's even fun to just say that. Yeah, we've got six songs recorded, and I'm just working on working out the bugs on another batch, and tracking. It's great because, in this day and age... this is why I'm not in the business of owning a commercial recording studio anymore. The timing of that was a little bit too late. And what I mean by that is, a lot of people started to be able to get home studios. And with a home studio, it's a catch 22. You either have the talent and the ears to be able to produce a recording, therefore, a home studio is a convenience. Or, you don't have the talent and the ear to create a production, but you think you do, because you own a computer.

 

(laughs) So, this is where the studio business kind-of didn't work too well for us, because a lot of people would rather take that money, go buy a Mac computer with GarageBand or whatever on it, and think they can record a record in their bedroom. And sometimes you can. But, where I'm going with this, is the good thing for me, is that I've had a very good relationship with a recording studio, all my life. So, we're able to go to a studio, to record the drums, let's say, because I don't have a drum room at my home. And then come back to the house, and track guitars, or my vocals, in a very comfortable environment, without having to look at the clock (and see it's ticking down, and it's costing me like $150 an hour to be here.) I get to do it when I'm inspired. That's the greatest thing about having a home studio, and technology being where it is today, for a musician.

 

If you get an idea at 2 am, you can record it at 2 am, without having to work on someone else's time clock.

 

Well, that's it. Absolutely. I've just been working on a brand-new track this week, since Saturday. Again, it comes in spurts and waves, 'cause I'm not in the recording studio, looking at the clock, worrying that it's burning a hole in my wallet. I'm "eureka! I got an idea!" and I just come in here, fire everything up, and I'm good to go. So it's cool that way. With this second record, again, just like the first record... We're getting really good reviews, and critical acclaim, on our first record. Part of the reason that it turned out the way it did, is because we had the opportunity to take our time. To make it as 'best' as we wanted it. That's the thing too - of course, everybody hears an old saying in the music business: everybody "has their whole lives to do their first album. But they only have a year or so to do their second album." And I like pressure. I'd rather have a year to do an album, because it gets me off my ass to do it. If I had forever, like I said, when I had the recording studio, and I was doing the Revolver project, before I put Revolver together, it would have been like the never-ending album. "Okay, I've got 40 songs here. What am I going to do with 40 songs?"

 

Time for that double CD and DVD box set release.

 

That's it. And that's the thing now - everybody wants everything. It used to be, you'd write like 25 songs, you'd pick the best ten or 11, and go in the studio and record them. Now, because demos even are so good with technology, everybody has everything they've ever written, (in) good quality. And now, people want them. Like - 'make this one an iTunes exclusive' or 'give this away for free as a prelude to your album', or... you know what I mean? There's always going to be room for content.

   

What's your songwriting process like - is the writing collaborative, or does one person come up with most of the ideas?

 

I've got to be honest with you. Famous Underground is the closest I could get to a solo act. But because it's a hard rock and heavy metal sort of thing, it's all about the performance. I don't foresee it being like "The Nick Walsh Band", calling it that, 'cause that's just not 'rock'. You know what I mean? I can write the stuff, I can record the stuff, but I can't do it without the other members of the band.

 

A lot of people don't know that I'm a guitar player, and a songwriter. Because I'm onstage, holding a microphone - but that's because it's about the show at that point. It's about being a frontman: commanding the audience, it's about getting in to their souls, looking right in to them. Delivering the goods. I mean, sure, there's been times, even with Famous Underground, (where) I pick up the guitar, and we do a cover tune. We do "Ace of Spades" by Motorhead. And it's fun. My delivery doesn't want to be chained to a microphone. I want to be able to try to look at everybody that's there to see the show. Try to get the point across, of the songs, of the music, get in to them, like getting to the people... look in their eyes, and everything. And I can't do that, standing at a microphone.

 

When I was younger, (songwriting) was a little different, because with Slik Toxik, I brought a lot of sort-of completed ideas to the table, then we sort of hashed them out in rehearsal. The difference is now, with technology, I'm able to do all my trial and error, or rather, what we would call pre-production work, on the fly, as I'm creating, as I'm writing. I get to actually hear what the song is going to sound like. Whereas, back in the day, it would be me, with a guitar and maybe a little four track recorder, and a voice, and a crappy old drum machine. And I'd take it to the band, and we'd work out the parts, and then... 'this is what it's sounding like'. And it would take weeks of developing and rehearsing to get it tight. And then record it like on a boombox or something, in the rehearsal studio. To get an idea, as our sort of chalkboard, to listen to it and then go 'okay, we need to change this', or 'rearrange this part', and all this stuff. And it would take weeks. Now, you can get a demo together, of what a song's supposed to sound like, and the band can actually learn it verbatim, and after like one rehearsal, it sounds great. It doesn't take a month for it to get tight.

   

It's that instant gratification thing you were talking about earlier - the fast food generation.

 

That's it. Everything is so immediate. This is what I mean by the fast food era, the social networking... Look at what we're doing right now. This would have had to have been done either by the phone...

 

Or in person.

 

Or, in person, yeah. Now we're able to do this over the Internet, and it doesn't cost people anything.

 

It's nice. All of this 'instant gratification' or 'instant access' seems surreal though.

 

Absolutely, absolutely. You know, one of the other things I feel is lost, is the whole mystique of the artist. The band, the musicians. It used to be an era where, at least for me, what made it so exciting, was like... Let's pretend it was King Diamond. King Diamond's got a new album coming out, and it comes out on Friday at midnight. Me and my buddies would go down there, line up outside the record store, they'd unlock the door... I'd go in, buy my copy, I'd come home, put it on... I'd be looking at the album cover, front to back, while the thing is playing. Then, like the next week, I'd see a Circus magazine with the guy on it, and I'd be like 'I've gotta get this, and find out when they're coming (through town)!' and stuff. Now, everything is so immediate.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUHhKBffAgs

 

The anticipation doesn't build up - it's lost.

 

No anticipation. Now you know what the guy is eating for lunch. So, it's not as exciting. That's one of the things I feel is lost. As much positive stuff there is from technology - to be able to do this (interview), or to record here. But there is that 'thing' that gets lost in the translation. Those were feelings that nobody will ever get to experience again. I have a seven year old son - he's not going to know what it was like to do that. Everything is at his fingertips now.

 

He's not going to know what it was like to tape songs off the radio on to a cassette, or make a mix tape.

 

That's it! We used to do the Top Ten At Ten, and I'd have my cassette ready! The funny part is, nobody cared about that, or tape trading, or mix tapes back then. But now, God forbid, somebody downloads a song and shares it.

 

My father actually told me that it was illegal to tape songs off the radio, when I was like 7 or 8. I didn't believe him, so I had to test it. I had to try taping a song off the radio. I didn't remember that (experience) until the 'illegal downloading' issue came up (decades) later.

 

That's funny. And then, the advent of the VCR, right? "Set the timer, so you can record your favorite show when you're not home." Same thing.

 

Then you could fast forward through the commercials and they didn't have to bother you.

 

That's it, ey. That's what's funny about music as well. Because we're living in this fast-food era, there's so many more bands or artists, and with so many more, there's a lot more crap out there. Or phony stuff. I always say this - I feel bad for that guy in Milli Vanilli, who killed himself years ago, couldn't take the pressure. 'Cause they got caught lip-synching. Now, everybody's lip synching! All these artists lip-synch! You watch the Super Bowl, or you watch the Grammy's, and you're like 'there's no way Pink's spinning around on that thing and singing.' You know what I mean? There's no way. But it's not about that anymore - it's about the show. For us, it's still about being a rock band: a couple guitars, bass, drums, vocals, and the energy! I'm in the studio, doing some stuff with an engineer. I'm recording this Moxy record. We're having a good laugh over it, because he told me about this sort of young girl, that was in the studio, doing some vocals. And they were literally doing word-for-word, Auto-Tuning everything. And she made a statement. The statement was... 'How did they do it before, without Auto-Tune!"

 

Talent.

 

And he turns to her and says 'They practiced, they learned how to sing, then they did it over and over again until they got it right. And this is what it's about.' Isn't that crazy? (laughs)

 

People get so dependent on 'modern technology'. They forget there was 'life before that'.

 

For sure. Over the Christmas holidays, where I live, in Toronto, we had a major ice storm which left us powerless, for days. I was without power at my home here, for four days. My house got down to like 44 degrees (F). It was cold! You could see your breath in my living room. But, the amount of people that couldn't live without their internet, or TV, or whatever... Imagine if it was like The Walking Dead, you know. The whole world is... there's no energy, there's no power, there's no nothing. What would people do, to survive? A lot of people who rely on technology, would have no idea how to survive.

   

So true. How did your most recent Canadian live gigs go?

 

They went well. They went really well. The thing is, for this band, we feel that Europe is probably our calling, because the lifestyle of heavy metal and hard rock has never gone away. Over here in North America, trends come and go. We've seen certain types of rock or metal come up, and go down, come up, and go down, and new ones come out, and all this stuff. Over there, I mean, bands like Saxon, and Motorhead, and stuff - they're still playing major festivals. There are still guys, young guys with like big back patches that say Venom on them. Or, Michael Schenker Group, or Status Quo, or whoever - all those bands are still prevalent over there. Over here in North America...

 

It's "flavor of the week".

 

Yeah, as far as the commercial aspect of music goes. Sure, there are still (festivals) like Rocklahoma, or the M3 festival, or these things. But they're more like retro events. Where some of those bands I listened to in the 80s from the L.A strip or whatever are playing, and the people coming out to these things are the same demographic - same with the Monsters of Rock Cruise. Because it's not the biggest thing in the world, it's 25, or 20 years later, and they finally get the opportunity to meet the 'rock stars from back then', that were untouchable.

 

And now they're everywhere.

 

Exactly. Now you can go on the Monsters of Rock Cruise, and sit there, and eat dinner with Ratt, or Warrant, or whoever. Again, there's that cool aspect now, of the fans now, now that they're all grown up and everything, finally get a little closer to the artists that helped shape them, and the genre of music that they loved so much, and all that stuff. Over in Europe, it's different. You know what's so cool about Europe, too? It's that, at a festival in Europe, you can get a band like Children of Bodom playing, and then you could get like Danko Jones playing, and then you get some black metal band playing. And there's no segregation between the types of metal or hard rock. Everybody just loves it because it's great, it's cool, you know? Whereas in America, and Canada, there's more of this sort of cliquey business. Like the hardcore metal people stay together, or the hard rock people stay together. It's not as big of a community.

 

There isn't the same cohesion.

 

There you go, ya know what I'm sayin'? Whereas over in Europe, that doesn't exist, because it's all about 'everything'. Did you ever see those movies done by Sam Dunn? Or the show Metal Evolution or any of that?

 

Yep! I've seen some previews or snippets on YouTube. I know what you're talking about.

 

He put together a hard rock and heavy metal 'family tree'.

 

It's awesome!

 

It's genius! Because that's the kind of thing that I think people should actually look at, to understand the history of whatever it is that they're doing right now. They could be playing some sort of, let's say extreme metal, and not realize that it all stemmed from like Black Sabbath or Deep Purple or something.

 

Or even farther back - that it stems from blues.

 

There you go. Of course, of course. I'm saying that just the metal thing altogether: "listen, if it wasn't for bands like Venom, or Mercyful Fate, there'd be no such thing as black metal." And speed metal, and... When I was a teenager, I was in to all sorts of stuff, like what was considered speed metal back then, a band like Agent Steel, or something like that. Now it's just like 'the extremes of what metal has become'. It's been segregated in to so many subgenres.

 

Like the same sentiment that you and I have, with liking all types of hard music, "if it's good, it's good." Right? So, I think those (European) audiences would appreciate us a lot. Over here, I'm sure there's a lot of audiences that would appreciate Famous Underground as well, but it's a matter of trying to find out where that fits in. I don't know if you've seen any of the reviews, but... the reviewers can't nail down anything. Like everybody has to choose - you know this as a writer I suppose - everybody has to choose from things they sort of know already, to compare you to. And, when you see such a wide range of names of bands that they compare us to or whatever, that's pretty good, because it means that we really are doing something fairly unique. Because nobody can pinpoint. They're not going 'oh, they're a Metallica rip-off' or 'they're a Guns 'N' Roses rip-off' or 'they're a combination of Guns 'N' Roses meets Metallica meets'... 'if you took Love/Hate and Megadeth...' I mean, whatever.

 

I was guilty of that too. I heard some Guns 'N' Roses influence. Just the lyrical rhythm and delivery, on only one song. I didn't think it was a bad thing. (read Iris's Famous Underground album review here)

 

Okay. Well, there you go. It's not being guilty of anything. 'Cause I've got to be honest with ya - I think I wear my influences on my sleeve, but really, they're so interwoven, and hidden in the music, that people will get out of it, whatever they want, right? And they'll say 'oh, he sounds like Megadeth here' or 'he sounds like Sebastian Bach here' or 'he sounds like this, here'... and...

   

Those are some good bands to be compared to, and some good influences to have. That's not crappy music at all.

 

Absolutely. I was just going to say, 'whatever makes them comfortable is fine', as long as they put me in the realms, or the comparisons, with greatness. I love it, you know?

 

(laughs)

 

And if they're comparing me with great people - with fantastic, talented people - I can't complain. It's when they start comparing me to garbage that I scratch my head and go "am I delusional, or what?" (laughs) If they're going to compare me to, let's say that - Sebastian, or Megadeth, or Metallica, or Guns 'N' Roses, or things that I like? Well, then, I'm doing a good job.

 

Guns 'N' Roses are huge. They're one of the most successful rock bands around right now.

 

Come on! They changed it. They brought danger back to rock back then, ya know? Everything was getting so corporate and slick, and then all the sudden, Guns 'N' Roses came out and flipped the tables again.

 

How do you sequence and pick tunes for the live set? What I like about you guys is that you're not just a studio band - you can play all of your studio stuff live, and it sounds great.

 

Well, the thing about the live show that we like to do is, first off, obviously, we like to come out and crack 'em over the head with a hammer. Say "wake up, we're onstage". Then, generally speaking, we like to keep the listener and the viewer interested by creating a show with peaks and valleys in it. We don't jump from a heavy tune to a ballad, and mix it like (crazy). We like to segue things in to eachother so there's that adjustment. People can adjust with the set with us. We usually come out there, all guns a'blazing on the first one. Then we get in to like a mid-tempo rocker on the second. And then we'll sort of transition it into something like the song "Dead Weight", that has a little bit of clean guitar, and heavy guitar. Then we would segue in to, let's say, a ballad. And then pick it up again with something different, maybe throw a cover tune in there. Then something really heavy again, to do exactly what we just did to you: bring you on an emotional rollercoaster. Again, to keep the interest with the audience. We like to have the audience feel as if they're a part of what we're doing. Whether it be the address - the talking - that I give them in between songs, to segue between songs and everything, I try to make it as personable as possible. So that the experience - the listener or viewer rather - leaves there, thinking they were a part of something, as opposed to looking at a fishbowl.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVaGoSMRJak

 

That's true, and wise. Because going to a concert nowadays can seem like a souped-up, super loud version of YouTube.

 

That's it, you know? That's a big difference too. It's funny, you know, going to concerts now, everyone's got their phones in the air. I saw a bootleg concert of Metallica. What made it funny, for me, was that somebody was in the audience, filming this concert. And James Hetfield makes a statement - he says "Okay, okay, you're all holding up your phones, and filming the show and everything. But guess what! You're not going to be a hero on YouTube. You're here - right now. Enjoy the moment. Like don't go 'I'm the guy that filmed it on my phone.' You stood there, you paid $150 for a ticket, and you're sitting there with a camera, a phone, filming the show?! Be -at- the show. Be a part of the show."

 

Do you have any weird or crazy tour stories? I mean, maybe not the show itself, but the 'before' or 'after'. Anything really off-the-wall?

 

Well, you know, it all depends on how you look at this. The road can be a crazy, surreal place, when you're traveling from city to city, especially in my country of Canada, because we live in such a big place, that has a tenth of your population... In Canada, generally, you're looking at about a four hour drive to the next main city. In Ontario, the province I'm from, I live in the city of Toronto, which is like... the biggest city in the country. But you're not going to play Toronto, and then play a suburb of Toronto the next night, because it's the same audience. And there are cities closer: Hamilton is only an hour away. Generally speaking, the major centers in Canada are four to six to eight hours away from one another. So, touring in Canada can be scary during the winter.

 

Oh yeah. I bet!

 

Yeah. We've gone through the mountains, crossing from Alberta to B.C - British Columbia. In the middle of wintertime. A bus hauling a trailer, sliding down a mountain road with no guard rails...

 

(terrified whimpering)

 

Going... "Is this our last tour ever?!" So, that type of stuff is quite scary. But to give you a definitive, sort of 'story' story... it escapes me right now.

 

Don't worry about it. Maybe it escapes you to protect the guilty. Or the innocent. Or something like that. It happens for a reason.

 

Yeah, really, huh! (smiles) Oh, no, there's just been some crazy, crazy stuff. Here's one for you. With Slik Toxik. It's not a big story, but it's just something funny. When Slik Toxik was touring in America, and we were opening for Yngwie Malmsteen, we toured with him for about six weeks. It just so happened that... do you know the joke band Spinal Tap?

 

Yeah, they're hilarious.

 

Well, they were on tour as well, and they were like - everywhere - we were going. They were there either the night after, or the night before. It was just kind of funny that we were chasing around, or seeing, the Spinal Tap name. 'Cause then, when we got back to Canada, we actually ended up playing at a festival with Spinal Tap.

 

(laughter all 'round)

 

That's actually really cool.

 

It's totally cool, and Spinal Tap is one of my favorite movies of all time. Why? 'Cause I can relate to it. It was... everywhere we were going... that was the deal.

   

OK, here's a good one. How did you develop your singing voice? Did you take vocal lessons, or sing in choir, or just practice a lot? And how do you maintain your voice?

 

When I was a little kid, again... I always had an interest in music. So, I was always singing. It all started with me singing to KISS records, or BTO records, or whatever. Beatles records... my dad's from Liverpool. He's got an Irish background, but he's from Liverpool, England, so we grew up in a household where The Beatles were played constantly. So, I sang all that stuff, just as a kid, to myself. I got my first guitar at 6. So, I've always been singing and playing. As far as the development goes, I think it was just more the type of music that I listened to. Especially in the early 80s and on, because I was more in to metal bands and stuff, and they could sing. I listened to Iron Maiden, Saxon, and Judas Priest, and stuff like that. So, I just developed it on my own, by singing along with them, and imitating them, wanting to do what they did. I remember when I discovered Queensryche in 1985, or '84, whenever the EP came out. I heard "Queen of the Ryche" and my mind was blown. So, I wanted to be able to sing that song. That's pretty much where it all came from. And the cool thing is, I also come from that (school)... character voices. I love David Lee Roth, I love Alice Cooper. I love all that stuff. Guys that people wouldn't revere as the greatest singers in the world, but have a lot of character, and you know it's their voice when you hear it.

 

Like Lemmy.

 

Yeah, Lemmy's one of them too! For sure. To be able to develop my voice, and learn how it worked, and imitate other people that I found to be (inspirational) helped develop my voice to the point where now I know how it feels. I know what it's like when somebody plays hockey, or a gymnast, or something. I know how to do my voice in different ways. I even do character voices for fun. People think I'm a joker, 'cause I'm always doing cartoon voices, and stuff like that. So, it was just from that. I did take just a couple of lessons, but that was more about maintenance: about learning how to warm up and stuff, which, quite honestly, I don't do very much. After this long, I've learned what I need to do, and what I can't do, in order to have a singing voice. One of them is "sleep". The other one is "stay hydrated". And... "don't yell over loud music at a nightclub." Bad idea. It will (mess up your voice). You don't realize - you get off the stage, you're playing at a nightclub, and people are like "HEY MAN, GREAT SHOW!" and you're like "YEAH MAN!"... and then I just talk like this (normal voice). I wear a scarf around my neck, keeping my throat warm, and if they can't hear me, well then, they can't talk to me.

 

What's in the future for Nick Walsh and Famous Underground?

 

Well... I'm keeping busy by sort of expanding "me" to other projects, doing the Moxy record, which is almost done. We've also completed a live DVD with that. I'm in the process right now of doing the second Famous Underground record. Also, still trying to figure out when and how we are going to get over to Europe to do some performances. Just trying to coordinate some of that stuff with my management. It would be great to get over there, to still be able to tour on the first record. But it doesn't matter to me whether it's for the first record or the second record. The bottom line is, we just want to get notoriety and make waves with what we do, and spread the word, so to speak. And have people slowly but surely, get interested in what we do. This is how careers are built. Careers aren't built on one hit wonders, or overnight sensations. I mean, there's a statement... "Overnight successes take ten years."

 

Finally, do you have any parting words for the readers, or your fans?

 

I just want to thank you guys for your support of Famous Underground. And... thank you very much. I'd just like to see more people get switched on to what we do. Hopefully they'll dig it.

 

Links:

Official Band Website

Official Band Facebook Page

Official YouTube Channel

Official Band Twitter Page

Are you a thoughtful and an imaginative person, one who reasons, a thinker, a person who wonders and can deduce, a logical being that has an understanding and conception of right and wrong!!....

My Dear Gumptious Scy-Fyer, you are about to enter a place of unfathomable, unplumbed depths, it is a territory unexplored with no horizons, no boundaries, No!! It has no circumference, the laws of nature and the laws of the Universe are set to nought, and you will find places like the Occipital Lobe, the Mesolimbic Pathway, the Superior Colliculi, and Arachnoid Matter, innumerable places as there are stars in the sky. I am of course referring to the human mind, and the human psyche. 'Fiend without a face' is a film which takes us to this continuum. It is a place of horror, a chilling place, wrought with murder and power, brought into existence by the very host it possesses.

Welcome, it's that time again Sagacious (look it up) Scy-Fyer, the Metro Lion roars, and we know we're in for a treat, A typical U.S. air force base, a lone soldier patrols the perimeter. A noise emanates from the scrub (a squeamishly squelchy sound, growing in intensity) a terrible scream, the soldier investigates; he finds a body, spread-eagle face up on the ground. Cue some 'slashy' lightening lettering, a cacophony of trumpets and timpani and our emotions are cut deeper than a Sabre sword could. FIEND WITHOUT A FACE HAS BEGUN.

Major Jeff Cummings is on the phone at the Air Force Base, he's smoking a cigarette, his buddy gives him a glass of water and some pills, which he takes and says, "Brother !, I've had some tough nuts to crack in my time, but nothing like this, and now to top it all, some guy goes and gets himself killed." He reaches Jeff some papers from the F.B.I. concerning the death of Jack Grazell, the details are read out. Jeff is asked, "What are you gonna do now," Jeff replies, "the Colonel doesn't think this is simple, and neither do I, I'll never forget the look on that dead man's face, maybe Doc Warden has the answer, he should be finished the autopsy by now, lets go." They arrive at Doc Wardens only to find that the Doc could not perform the autopsy because Mayor Winthorpe and Doctor Bradley claimed the body. Jeff is concerned that the people in the neighbourhood will blame the death of Mr Grazell on their radar experiments at the base. A beautiful lab assistant enters the room and says, "Excuse me Sir, but Colonel Bartlett phoned to ask Major Cummings (Jeff) to report to his office."

Jeff enters the office and salutes Colonel Bartlett who says, "I'd like to introduce Miss Barbara Grazell" he continues "the governments of Canada and the U.S. set up this base for the protection of our people, Miss Grazell, Mayor Hawkins, I am no parlour diplomat, I'm an army man, I'm straight forward and blunt, but I'm afraid I must use stronger methods of persuasion, this is your brothers notebook, he has made some very interesting notations." Jeff takes a look at the book and says, "It's a schedule for take-off's and landings." Miss Grazell looks at the book and confirms this but says, "Our herds were producing less milk because of the aircraft, look it says...Helen less nervous today, quality low, Diane apathetic, quality poor...and so on, with all the other members of the herd." The Doc says, "Perhaps the Colonel can tell us what he thought the items referred to." The Colonel says, "I guess that's all we have to discuss, thank you for coming."

Jeff is driving Miss Grazell through the woods in a jeep he says, “You know the Colonel is a nice guy really, but he does have his problems.” Miss Grazell replies, “You don’t have to apologize for him.” Jeff says, “I’m not, it’s just that he has a job to do a difficult one under the circumstances.” Miss Grazell says, “Please I’d rather not discuss it.” Jeff says, “I was only trying to….” Miss Grazell interrupts, “trying to what.” Jeff replies, “Oh I don’t know, I was just looking for a way…well I understand what you’re going through.” Miss Grazell says, “Do you,” Jeff gives up, “what the heck, I’m human, we’re all human here, we’re not monsters from outer space.” Miss Grazell laughs and the jeep pulls up to a lovely cottage by a lake she says thanks, Jeff says, “what for.” Miss Grazell says, “For the lift and the words of comfort.” Jeff adds, “I wish I could do more.” She replies, “I’ve no hard feelings if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jeff replies, “Well, I had but not any more.” They shake hands Miss Grazell goes into her cottage they wave goodbye.

A large radio telescope scans the skies; a jet plane passes high overhead. In the Air Force Base Control room Jeff is informed that control is ready, he speaks into the ‘Mic’, “Green dog, Green dog this is pyramid are you ready for Test Baker over.” We are treated to a close-up of the jet and a voice says, “pyramid, this is green dog, we’re at 40 000 feet, standing by for Test Baker over.” Jeff replies, “ok green dog commence Test Baker over.” Jeff tells the sergeant, “set for 500 mile range and start scanning at normal speed.” He continues, “Increase scanning speed to 20 RPM’s.” (May I say this is a very impressive control room, the large scanner image in the middle of the room reminds me of the ‘Countdown Clock’ with 2 contestants on each side..) Jeff commands, “Increase range to 1000 miles” and shouts “steady on you’re sensitive control No.3.” again he commands, “increase range to 1500 miles, look Sir Siberia, increase range to 2500 miles.” The Colonel says, “If we can keep this equipment working we can watch those Russians 24 hours a day right in their own back yard, we can spot any plane, any missile, and any thing that’s airborne.” But the image begins to fade, Jeff is annoyed, “there it goes again the same old trouble.” Their equipment is in good working order so Jeff concludes there is some sort of interference. The Colonel says, “Try increasing the power.” Jeff informs the Colonel, “Sir, we’re pushing the atomic plant as much as we can.” The Colonel says, “We gotta lick this power thing, tell them to pour it on.” Jeff lifts a telephone, “Pete, this is Cummings in master control we want you to give us everything you’ve got.” Pete says, "Jeff we've already exceeded its design limits, every time you take a test you ask for more power, if I take any more rods out of the reactor it's liable to get out of control." Jeff orders, "take some more rods out we'll have to risk it, we've got to have more power." Pete replies, "it's your funeral," he puts the phone down, changes to line 2, and orders the removal of 10 more rods from reactor 3. "That’s crazy." Pete says, "I know but it's an order."

There's a marvellous close-up of a circular gauge which has a big red section in it, the needle is slowly moving towards it. Outside the building the radio antenna are scanning the sky, and in master control a man at the radar screen says, "power has been boosted Sir, but still can't increase the image." The Colonel speaks, "it doesn't matter how much we boost the transmitter power it doesn't reach the plane." Jeff says, "we will just have to keep working at it Sir." the Colonel wonders what excuse he will give the Pentagon and Jeff says, "Green dog, green dog, test Baker is complete return to base over, Sergeant it's a closed shop."(Good aerial views of the plane changing direction)

People are gathered in a graveyard for the burial of Jack Grazell, the minister is speaking, "...and now we consecrate the Worldly remains of our beloved Jack Grazell to the good Earth from whence he sprang..." the noise of a high altitude jet plane drowns out his words, a little distance away a farmer and his wife are also disturbed by the noise, she says, "it's a good job the cows are getting used to them, I'll get your supper in a minute, I'll feed the chickens first." She goes into the barn. We are horrified to hear a squelchy squeamish noise and see some rippling movement on the straw made by some invisible object or entity. She screams clutching her neck, something is choking her, she contorts and twists she's writhing in agony, she falls face down dead. Her husband heard the scream and rushes into the barn, kneels down and turns her body over. The squelchy noise continues, he lifts a pitch fork and begins to stab haphazardly at the invisible entity. Suddenly he screams and contorts, he clutches at his neck gasping for air, it's no use, and he falls down dead beside his wife.

At the graveyard the people are dispersing, a car pulls up, a man jumps out and cries, "Mayor! Ben Adams and his wife are dead, same as young Grazell, up at the farm at the edge of the Air force base." they rush of.

At the Air Force Base the Colonel is on the phone, "...but Mayor your taking a great deal for granted, there's absolutely no evidence pointing to radioactive fallout or radioactive contamination of any kind, Yes! We’ll do every thing we can goodbye." An officer enters the room, salutes and says, "Sir! we've began a complete investigation of the Adam's farm, but the local constable, a man named Gibbons, told us to get off the place, he said it was under his jurisdiction and we had no business being there." The Colonel is dismayed, he looks at Jeff and says, "what kind of co-operation do you call that, Jeff suppose you get hold of the Adam's relatives, see if you can persuade them to let us do an autopsy, reassure them, promise them anything get hold of those bodies."

2 bodies lie on a bench covered in linen, 4 men are standing, the surgeon takes his gloves off and says, "we've made a complete autopsy, Mr Bradley and myself, our findings and opinions concur, it's fantastic, on the examination of the skull of Mr Adams, I noticed 2 small holes in the base of the occipital lobe region they penetrated into the Medulla oblongata, where the spinal chord meets the brain, I opened the skull and found this, it was gone, sucked out like an egg, through the holes, Major Cummings has the best explanation so far, MENTAL VAMPIRES." The Colonel speaks, "we'll find it, we must find it, Doctor I trust I can rely on your desecration, get on the phone, and consult the top medical specialists, Captain! Contact the authorities, tell them what the problem is, find out what they have to say about it, Jeff talk to the townsfolk check on anything that seems extraordinary no matter what it is."

Jeff’s first stop is Barbara's house, he knocks the door it swings open he goes inside, Barbara is in the shower. Jeff calls, "hello anybody home, Miss Grazell!" Barbara steps out of the shower (bath towel) and walks into the living room, she sees Jeff and is totally surprised and jumps back behind the door, Jeff tries to explain himself she says, "Make yourself at home Major, I'll be out in a minute." The Major says , "thank you," goes over to the table (note the bulky reel-to-reel tape recorder) lifts a book, 'THE PRINCIPLES OF THOUGHT CONTROL' by R.E. Wallgate, he begins to read, Barbara enters and says, "Professor Wallgate was preparing these for publication, he dictates and I edit the tapes and prepare the draft manuscripts." Jeff inquires, "The professor must be quite a guy, control, cybernetics, the Mayor mentioned that Wallgate was an authority on Psychic Phenomena, is that still a hobby of his." Barbara says, "I don't know Dr Bradley says no more overwork or excitement." Jeff replies, "what about you do you ever get any time of." Jeff moves his head forward towards her lips....The door opens Barbara introduces Howard to Jeff who says, "Well I guess I'll be running along, I was just passing on my way back to the base." Howard speaks, "Quite a roundabout route (there's tension in the air) have you found that G.I. killer yet, you know you'd be far better of huntin' him down than TOM CATTIN' around here." Jeff grabs Howard who punches him Jeff falls on the tape recorder, he recovers and deals a smashing right hook on Howard, who delivers his right hook, so Jeff strikes out with another right hook and Howard falls unto the chair. Barbara intrudes, "cut it out the both of you." they stop and stare at each other, "I think you better leave Major, you've done enough damage for one morning." Jeff lifts his cap and leaves. Back at base, Jeff and Al are talking, Al wants to talk about women Jeff says, "Listen Al we've got work to do, this is serious I want you to get all the information on Professor Wallgate, everything he's ever written, books, articles, everything.

In the town a man leaves the Mayor's house, gets into his automobile and drives off. Inside the house the Mayor is making his way upstairs, suddenly those strange squelchy threatening sounds are heard, the Mayor looks back but continues, outside something disturbs the bushes, the door handle turns by itself, the noise increases, a potted plant is ruffled, a metal pole falls, a bucket is spilled a trail is left through the spillage, the mosquito covering on the door is ripped open. The Mayor reaches the top of the stairs, he hears the noises, the downstairs doors swing open, and what looks like footprints appear across the carpet, the squeamish crunching noise increases, a mat on the floor 'flips-up', The Mayor clutches at his throat, trying to prevent some invisible force from strangling him, he struggles, gasping, choking and writhing, he tumbles down the stairs dead, the doors beside him swing open the entity is gone.

A mob is gathered in the town Gibbons is in charge, "Alright, Alright, fellows stop this nonsense; no fancy atomic radiation caused these deaths." Someone shouts, "what about the Mayor what killed him." the crowd cheer. Gibbons tries to calm them, "if you shut up I'll tell you, the fella we're after is in the woods probably some base G.I. that's gone wild, he can't get far if we move fast." So the angry mob gets into their cars and trucks with their rifles and guns and head for the woods. They reach their destination and begin a search.

Back at Air Force Base a 'teleprinter' is 'thwacking away' (what a wonderful sound it makes) An officer rips of the paper, gives it to Jeff who reads it, "Wallgate brilliant scientist, recluse considered highly eccentric." Jeff must go to see the Professor. Barbara answers the door and lets Jeff in. "I'd like to see the Professor," she shows Jeff into the Professor's study, Jeff says to Wallgate, "I've come to see you about this terrible business concerning the Mayor." The Prof replies, "A terrible tragedy." Jeff adds, "I need your help, this is the 4th death in the space of a few days, they're turning the townsfolk against us." the Prof says, "its just ignorance my dear fellow, these people are simple, one might say narrow in their outlook, the secrecies of your activities don't help, this development of radar boosted by atomic power." Jeff says, "what give you that idea Sir, " The Proff answers, "I read a piece in the Arriton journal, I put 2 and 2 together." the Proff offers Jeff a drink they discuss Vol 2 of the Proff's new book, Barbara says, "her head is buzzing with all the strange words." and goes of to transcript them. The Proff says, "I don't want to seem morbid, but did you see her brother's face after he died." Jeff says, "Yes," the Proff asks, "what was it like I have a reason for asking," Jeff tells him, "well it was an expression of complete horror, fright almost insane, could it have been supernatural, something unreal, something never seen by anyone before." The Proff replies, "I can't accept that I've always disproved such theories." Jeff continues to question the Professor whom is becoming quite upset, Barbara enters the room, she looks at Jeff and says, "was it absolutely necessary for you to upset the Professor, first Howard Gibbons now the Professor, you're quiet little talk is over Major." Jeff apologizes to the Prof, " I didn't mean to upset you Professor." he excuses himself and leaves.

Back at the woods the mob are still hunting for the madman it's nighttime. Gibbons asks, "Have you finished searching the quarry yet." he is told, "the men are tired and want to go home." Gibbons tells them, "you can't quit now, spread out, keep searching, we'll join up at the Adam's fence." Gibbons and his friend continue along the path, rifles ready. The strange squelchy crunching sound is heard. The pair split up and take different paths, the woods look very spooky, all is quiet, again the squelchy crunching noise is heard, it's getting closer and closer to Gibbon's friend, whom is becoming very afraid, he looks in all directions, he sees nothing, he panics he runs frantically in every direction shouting for Gibbons who is nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile back in the town Mrs Gibbons is being comforted by the doctor, Barbara says, "don't worry we'll find him Mrs Gibbons." The Mob return from the wood with guns and rifles, Mrs Gibbons cries, "where is he, Oh where is Howard!." the Mob tell her, "we've searched everywhere, he just disappeared." Mrs Gibbons is in Hysterics and screams, "Oh! But I gotta find him I gotta find my boy, I'll find him myself." she wanders of. The Doctor tells the Mob to make sure Mrs Gibbons gets home safely, the mob tell the Doctor, "we kept calling and calling for him, if he was alive he would have heard us." Another man says, "No point in searching anymore, we ought to call a council meeting, what about it Bradley." The Doctor says, "Ahh, lets get Melville he's the deputy Mayor, I suppose it's up to him."

The council meeting gets underway, the chairman 'bangs' a hammer on the table saying, "everyone quiet please, you all know why we're hear, we've had 4 deaths and our constable is missing, some think the air base is connected and for that reason I've asked Major Cummings along." The meeting progresses, Howard wants to cut out the 'soft soap' and get down to 'brass tacks', another farmer wants to know why the quality and quantity of his cow's milk has fallen. Jeff tries to reassure them that the air base has nothing to do with the deaths, adding "he didn't know enough about farming to...." Howard 'butts in', "Grazell did, he knew his business." Barbara calms things by saying, "it was the noise of the jets that frightened the cows, they've got used to it now." Someone mentions a mad G.I. on the prowl, but Jeff denounces this by telling them we have checked and rechecked their personnel. Jeff tries to continue, but a strange, loud, very spooky, groaning, wailing noise is heard, the doors swing open it's Gibbons, he's in a non compos mentis state, his face is full of terror and horror sweat drips from his brow, he looks totally insane like a zombie, (acting at it's best) something very terrible has happened to him.

Later on Jeff and Barbara are discussing the things that have happened, Jeff hints, "I think Professor Wallgate is involved in these deaths, it's a hunch I have, it's his background and training, I've checked somehow I think it ties in." Barbara replies, "Oh, that's crazy." Jeff takes a torch and tells Barbara he's gonna take a look at the cemetery. Jeff is making his way through the cemetery (eerie music playing), a door opens in one of the tombs, a stranger comes out and hides from Jeff, who approaches the door and inspects it, he goes inside. He descends a flight of stone stairs (brilliant echo of his footsteps) he's inside a vault, there's a coffin on the table with a dead man inside, a tobacco pipe is on the table he lifts it and puts it into his pocket. Suddenly the Vault door creaks and closes Jeff runs back up the stairs, he tries to shoulder the door open, he can't he's trapped inside. He shouts, "Hey!,Hey!," he bangs the door breaking his flashlight, he descends the stairs, he lights a match finds a candle which he lights, takes the candlestick looks around him, (listen out for those footsteps they have to be heard to be believed) he goes back to the door and feels around it.

Chester sits at his desk he speaks over the intercom, "any word from Major Cummings." the reply is, "No! Sir!," He phones Miss Grazell who tells Chester that Jeff left her house last night about 7:30pm to go to investigate the graveyard. The Captain tells her to meet him at the cemetery. Meanwhile underground Jeff is struggling with the door, the candle slowly goes out, and Jeff is running out of Oxygen. Outside Miss Grazell and the Captain are passing through the cemetery, Jeff can only tap the candlestick on the door, but they hear it and run towards it and with great effort manage to open the vault door. Jeff is in a semi comatose state. Barbara says, "Jeff its Barbara are you alright." Jeff manages to say, "Barbara." Harry says, "you're not dreamin buddy it's Barbara, take it easy now we'll get you back to base."

Mr Wallgate is at his desk, Jeff and Barbara have come to talk to him, Jeff speaks, "I hope you can help us Sir." Jeff offers him a cigarette but Wallgate says, "I have my pipe." but he can't find it. Jeff says, "Professor I read one of your books MATERIALIZATION OF THOUGHT, how a man could create power by thought." The Prof Replies, "I said it was impossible didn't I, I'm tired and sick stop badgering me." Jeff pulls out the tobacco pipe and says, "Are you looking for this." The Professor crumbles, "I didn't mean to shut you in, I wanted time to get away I called Barbara...." Jeff says, "If she hadn't rescued me I wouldn't be alive." The Professor tells them he had to find out the truth and he examined the Mayor's body. (the squelchy squeamish noise is heard) the Professor contorts and goes into a semi-conscious state, Jeff and Barbara hold him and ask what's the matter, he recovers slightly and says, "it's a terrible story, you've got to shut down your atomic radar plant." Jeff says, "call Dr Bradley I'm going back to the base, I'll be back soon." He kisses Barbara (WOW! what a kiss) he says, "I'll try that again when I've more time."

Jeff is trying to persuade the Colonel to shut down the atomic plant, he explains how the deaths occurred at the peak of their tests and it's not worth the risk. The Colonel says, "O.K. lets put it on ice." In the control room Jeff asks how long it will take to shut down the plant. Pete replies, "About 5 minutes." another man enters the room and says, "the rods are all smashed." Pete says, "We’ll never be able to shut her down now." Jeff inquires about spares and is told the nearest supplier is the Handford Works at the Columbia River. Jeff lifts the phone, "get me the Handford Works on the Columbia river right away."

Back at Wallgates the Doctor has finished examining him and Barbara asks if he is ok. The Dr replies, "Oh, sure, sure, sure, see he gets plenty of rest, call me if there's any change." Barbara says, "Major Cummings says he'll be back soon." At the Master control the Colonel is explaining to Jeff the 'Rods' were destroyed on purpose and we're in big trouble." A Buzzer sounds its Barbara on the phone; Jeff reassures her he'll be straight over. Jeff tells the Colonel, "Wallgate is unconscious we better get over there right away Sir." The Colonel orders Hall to get the side arms, he tells Casper to get hold of Bradley and Melville and meet them at Wallgates. So everybody is congregated around Wallgate, who has recovered slightly, he speaks, "I shall feel better after I have told you everything, maybe you can help me clear up this business, those horrible deaths were beyond my control, for many years now I have been working on a theory, 'Thought Materialization' and the apparatus to give it the boost required is in my laboratory, I know I could never succeed in telepathy, I needed to stimulate my brain, to the extent I could detach thought from my conscious to give it a separate entity of it's own. I constructed the simplest experiment to turn the page of a book, I designed a instrument to create a sudden and a powerful electric boost to help me free my thought, but each application of the electrical charge created a shock, almost equal to electrocution it made me ill, for a long time I persisted in the one experiment until one night, I was able to turn the page by thought alone. It was the Lightening striking the house that gave my instruments a sudden fire and charge of power, and my thought was free, I altered the design of my equipment to generate these violent power boosts, but it was all very dangerous, when I felt well enough to absorb the shock I found no difficulties in moving small objects, I developed a certain 'Tele-Sense' to the high voltages, but I really needed a new source of power, the Air Base provided me with this power. I devised additional apparatus that enabled me to divert a portion of the atomic power that was radiating at the air force base, it was power I could control, and I learned how to amplify my thoughts, I was able to detach my thoughts and allow them to work on their own, I devised a beam into which the thought could enter, and preserve it's self for all humanity, I envisaged something akin to the human brain with life and mobility but without the limitations of man's body, I concentrated my entire thought on it’s creation, I succeeded but like thought it’s self it was invisible, that night I entered my laboratory to take advantage of the radar tests, only to find the place in shambles, my equipment wrecked beyond repair, all my notes about it’s creation and how I thought it could be controlled were destroyed I knew I had created a ‘fiend’ there was no other explanation, I was helpless, but whom could I tell, who would believe such a fantastic story, I could sense the presence of the ‘fiend’ in the room with me, growing more powerful each day, my one desire was to destroy the thing, but I possessed no means of projecting my thought to do so, then I could hear it, was it possible that there was more than one, I was unable to stop them, they were now drawing power from the atomic station, it’s intelligence had expanded it now knew how to make it’s escape (brick through window) then followed these horrible deaths, the madness of Gibbons, I had to see one of the bodies, I went to the Mayor’s tomb, I now know I created a MENTAL VAMPIRE, a ‘fiend’ that needs to drain the intellect to survive and multiply.” Jeff asks, “suppose you’re right Proff how does it live.” Wallgate replies, “how else but from the brains and nerve centres removed from dead people, we’re facing a new form of life nobody understands, I believe it feeds on radiation from you’re atomic plant.” The Colonel thinks the Proff is a raving lunatic and it’s all in his mind. An officer spots something outside (fiend sounds) plants and bushes are ruffled by some invisible force, the Colonel checks the phone line it’s dead, he tells Jeff to set up emergency patrols. Suddenly the invisible ‘fiend’ grabs the officer; he contorts in strangulation, screams and falls outside dead. Jeff orders the windows to be boarded up with the lumber in Wallgates laboratory. Melville starts to panic, “I’ve got to get out!, I’ve got to get out!” Barbara comforts him, “pull yourself together, and help me to move this table.” They frantically manage to secure the room; Jeff asks Wallgate, “is there anything that would make them visible.” He replies, “Nothing I know, unless it’s the amount of atomic radiation that’s available.” Back at the control room Pete watches the needle on the gauge enter the Red Sector (danger) he tries to tell the Colonel via radio, but begins to twist and flinch the invisible ‘fiend’ has him, he fights in vain and falls down dead, the needle moves into the Red section, suddenly the ‘fiend’ becomes visible, we see a grotesque, living ‘slug-like’ human brain with tentacles crawling on it’s spinal column. The survivors have barricaded themselves in Wallgates office, Melville has another ‘panic attack’ and told to get a grip of him self. A window is broken, all is quiet. Wallgate wants the Atomic plant shut down he tells the Colonel, “That without radiation these things must die. A man looks out of the window and cries, “Good grief!” outside the whole area is covered in ‘fiends’ repulsive, nauseating, festering, odious creatures. The Colonel says, “They’ve become visible.” Wallgate adds, “Some one or something must have increased the power at the Atomic plant, what have I unleashed.” The group observe the ghastly, hideous, balls of mucus slither across the lawn. Jeff orders, “Get the side arms.” Wallgate says, “I’m sure it’s the Atomic plant, as long as it goes on they will multiply, getting stronger and stronger.” Out comes the side arms, they begin to shoot, (some riveting effects plus audio with stomach churning scenes) Jeff puts a bullet through one of the ‘slimy brains’ and says, “They’re mortal.”

Melville is having another ‘panic attack’ he moves from the window to the fire place, just as a ‘fiend’ falls down the chimney, Melville looks in terror, the ‘fiend’ propels its self at Melville and puts him in a strangle hold, with it’s spine wrapped around Melville’s neck, he collapses, Jeff lifts an axe and ‘chops’ the brain in half. The Doc tells Jeff, “He’s dead.” Jeff says, “We’ve got to stop them.” They decide the only way is to shut down the Atomic plant, there’s a dynamite shed nearby and if they could get some dynamite they could blow up the control room. Jeff gets nominated and Barbara says, “Be careful Jeff please.” and kisses him (much better). The Colonel says, “Cover him as he leaves, don’t waste a bullet.” (Action packed sequence) Wallgate tells the Doctor, “They’re my creation perhaps I can control them, lock the door after me.” Wallgate runs across the lawn amid the ‘fiends’ one launches its self at him, but it is shot down (mid air), but 3 more attack him and lock their spines around his neck, Wallgate issues his last scream and drops dead. There’s a close up of the 3 ‘fiends’ feasting on Wallgate’s body (not for the faint hearted) The Colonel comments, “That was a brave man.” Barbara is worried about Jeff, and they continue to shoot the ‘fiends’ one by one from the trees and shrubs. Jeff continues running through the woods, he takes a tumble but makes it to the Dynamite shed, he forces the door and goes inside, fetches some dynamite, only to be confronted by a ‘brain creature’ which springs at him, Jeff uses his side arm and shoots it in mid air (Wow!) it falls oozing blood and gunge, Jeff makes his way to the Atomic plant, the area is littered with bodies. Barbara is very worried about Jeff, the creatures start to break through the boarded window, (look out for a ‘fiend’ that explodes…then we hear the gunshot…) more and more creatures pounce through the window, (Great animation, coupled with complimentary audio make these scenes Unmissable) a ‘fiend’ springs unto Barbara’s neck, she screams, the Doctor pulls it of and throws it away. At the control room Jeff is lighting the fuse on the dynamite, he is attacked by another ‘fiend’ but makes good use of his trusty side arm. Back at the house another creature attacks Barbara she screams….

Jeff dives for cover behind a jeep as the Atomic plant erupts in an enormous explosion, the Brain creature that has attached it’s self to Barbara’s neck becomes limp and falls to the ground, outside they begin to fall from the trees and bushes, they start to melt into a horrible ‘gungy-goo’. Our Hero Jeff comes racing across the field in the jeep and arrives at the house, inside the Colonel is speaking, “Well Captain let’s get started, Doc I’ll send you some help as soon as I get over to the Air Base.” Barbara cries, “What about Jeff he’s been gone for hours.” The door opens in walks our Hero Jeff, Barbara looks at him her face lights up, she smiles and says, “Jefff!, Jefff!,” she rushes over and hugs him. Jeff says, “Its O.K. honey, it’s all over.” The Colonel says to Jeff, “Well Major I’m leaving you in charge report back when you have the situation well in hand.” Jeff says to the Doc, “Well Doc now that we’ve got this thing licked you’ll encourage your people to cooperate with us.” The Doc replies, “Well I reckon we owe it to you Major, and it strikes me that you’re setting a good example.” Soft music is playing; Jeff and Barbara hold each other tightly and engage in a passionate kiss (Wow!)…such a ‘feel good’ ending….we’re safe.....thank you.

 

It's a few days late, but here's my annual summary:

 

Summary of 2016

It was a Horrible Year for Society, and a Decent Year for Me

Edited for Flickr

December 29th, 2016

 

* * * * *

 

Publicly acknowledged as being a general disaster, we all know that 2016 was tainted by war, mass shootings, celebrity deaths, and the Beginning of the End of the United States of America. But for me, 2016 was a pretty decent year, despite some shitty occurrences in the spring and early summer. As I’ve done almost every year since 2010, this is the summary of 2016 as I experienced it. It goes without saying that I do this because I’m somewhat self-absorbed and I like to reminisce, but if you find yourself still reading, I hope you’ll enjoy it!

 

* * * * *

 

On New Year’s Day of 2016, I painted my interpretation of hell on a small canvas, complete with Trump Temple and a revolver directing all the dead souls toward it. At that point, I was feeling the Bern like so many other young people. Ted Cruz was going to be the Republican nominee, and Hillary was going to become the first female president.

 

How wrong I was.

 

Anyway, 2016 began with the end of my contract as the Admissions Case Manager at my workplace – interviewing and admitting people who were looking for addiction treatment. I had enjoyed learning how to do admissions work, and feeling a stronger sense of self-efficacy than I felt “on the other side” of the building, doing counselling. This was a disconcerting realization, but it makes sense, because I’m an introvert and I’m somewhat shy, so being among multiple people for a full shift while having to say the right thing is naturally tiring. Although I didn't go to school to be an admissions worker, it’s good to narrow down my aptitudes, and it’s something I can definitely see myself doing more of.

 

I went for a few job interviews in the winter that didn’t really go anywhere, but I started getting more shifts in February, so I was doing alright. I kept busy by working on paintings; one of which was the “Space Man Shark”, and another was “Fucking the Dog”, which thus far is the painting I put the most work into. It’s the painting of the Zoo scene circa 2008, with workers slacking off around 93, which is the old rustbucket Ford F-350 that we used to drive around the site. My friend saw it and asked me to paint a Zoo scene involving him. I started that painting in March, and I’m embarrassed to say that it isn’t finished yet. But I’m working on it!

 

On February 24th, Ally and I saw Neil DeGrasse Tyson at the Sony Centre. It was great to see so many nerds in one place!

 

I spent March working, reading books, and figuring out how I was going to propose to Ally.

 

You see, Ally and I had been dating for a few years, and around the beginning of 2016, she showed me pictures of some engagement rings on the Internet. I figured that was enough of a hint.

 

I called her parents and sought their blessing, and when they approved, I ordered one of the rings she liked. It arrived a few weeks later. When I got home from work on the chilly afternoon of April 12th, I brought the box (which was big enough to hold three laptops) inside and put it on the kitchen table when all of a sudden, Ally came home. I grabbed the box and stuffed it into my armoire just in time. At some point, I slipped the ring in the normal-sized jewelry box into my coat pocket, and suggested we go for a walk. We walked up to Danforth, then down along Broadview to Riverdale Park. We sat down and talked for a couple of minutes, and then I pulled the ring box out of my pocket and said “Happy Birthday”. She said “What is it?”, and then she opened the box and I asked “Will you marry me?” And she said “Oh my god! Oh my god”, and then “Yes!” We talked a bit more about how I kept it a secret and how I had asked her parents for their blessing, and she laughed when I told her that her dad had said “Oh, that sounds good”. We walked back up the hill to the sidewalk, and walked down to Gerrard Street where we got on the 506 streetcar and went home, freshly engaged. Then I think she called Tina, and I started calling my family, and then once our families knew, we posted it on Facebook. Then the notifications began pouring in!

 

I took Ally to the Keg Mansion for her birthday the next day. It was pretty nice; I had never been there before.

 

On April 18th, we went to Cuba – my first trip to the Caribbean. Ally’s parents had invited us, and after much hesitating due to my tendency to get travel migraines in tropical places, I agreed to go. When I got up at 2:00am to drive to the airport, Ally had just gotten off the phone with her mom, who had to cancel because her grandmother had been rushed to hospital. So it would be a romantic trip for two instead. Or so we thought.

 

We drove to the Park N’ Fly lot, and got on the shuttle bus, which was playing Indian music. The flight was fine, and it was hot and humid in Cuba. The first four days were nice. We hung out on the beach, ate freely from the buffet, and sent postcards back to our families. On the third day, we took a bus into Varadero (the town), where I got some good pictures and we happened upon the most beautiful beach I’d ever seen, just down a quiet side street past the restaurant where we ate lunch. The sun was scorching on the beach, but the water was crystal clear and smooth, unlike the rough waves at the resort. We went into a tour agency of some kind and planned our trip to Havana as I started feeling a little lightheaded. Then we caught the bus back to the resort.

 

On the fourth night, I got sicker than I’ve ever been. The next day, I went to the resort doctor, who suggested I get a shot of antibiotics. I immediately felt like throwing up at the thought, so we decided I’d take some Metronidazol pills and electrolyte packets that tasted awful instead. That night, sickness struck another 8 times. We had to cancel our trip to Havana, which bummed me out because I prided myself in being a pseudo-adventurous person with an interest in seeing “real Cuba” and not just staying on the resort. I was more or less bedridden for the second half of the trip. Ally brought me food from the buffet several times a day, as I got weaker and the temperature outside got hotter. I got three migraines on one day, after eating two bananas and probably having a serious electrolyte imbalance. It was the first time I remember where I couldn’t wait to get home, where I could eat the food without wondering if it would make me sicker. On the flight home, we were stuck behind the same cranky kids from the flight there, and had to wait a while on the tarmac because of lightning strikes in the area. It took about an hour for our bags to appear on the carousel, after which we went outside to wait for the shuttle bus, where it was 3 degrees outside. When we got to my car, it was pissing rain, and my door got soaked when I had to fiddle with the ticket machine to leave the lot. We drove home and got in bed at 5:00am.

 

In late April or early May, I got word that I had scored an Admissions Case Manager contract until March 2017, and also a permanent part-time position on the weekends, so I was happy about that. It’s still not a Full-Time Permanent Job With Benefits and a Pension™, but I’ve never been one for fantasy.

 

On May 17th, I was involved in a car accident after a woman suddenly stopped in the middle of an intersection.

 

On May 21st, we had our engagement photos taken by my friend Strahan, which was the first positive thing to happen in a few weeks. We went up to the park at Reesor and Steeles, and then down to Riverdale Park where I had proposed to Ally a month before. We also stopped at Dairy Queen, which is a reliable mood-booster for me.

 

That week was a flurry of happy activity. We checked out and confirmed our wedding venue; attended Ally’s friend’s wedding in Toronto; had our own engagement party at Mom’s house; attended Mom’s graduation from university, and I made my first visit to the Toronto Zoo in the 4.5 years since I last worked there. We saw my old lead hand and another guy I hadn’t seen in a while, and took some pictures of Eurasia, which had radically changed since 2011. I also started working at my job at the shelter again.

 

The next week, the federal taxman came a-mailing, saying “Fuck you, you poverty-living spoiled white kids! For I come’th to take away all the money I gave you in GST cheques over the past few years!” In case you didn’t know (I didn’t), you’re not entitled to GST cheques if you’re living with a partner and your combined income allows you to pay all your bills.

 

The next week, the provincial taxman came a-mailing, saying “Yada yada give us your money blah blah you were supposed to tell us you were living together since 2013 etc.” Same shit, different branch of government.

 

Then later that week, my father was admitted to hospital. I’ll leave out details because it’s not my story to tell. I went to visit him the next day, and the worst-case scenario was avoided, so that was a relief.

 

On the morning of July 14th, I woke up, picked up my phone, and found that I could no longer use Instagram. Over the last few years, several apps had stopped working. Every time I went to type a message, it would lag. Most annoyingly, whenever I turned off my phone, I would lose all my contacts. But not being able to use Instagram was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was time to replace my five-year-old iPhone 4. It was also time to be done with Rogers. So I bought an iPhone SE and switched providers, It was nice to step into the latest technological advances, like Siri (which I still haven’t used); a built-in pedometer; a high-quality phone camera, and apps that work. When I look back on this essay in five years, all of these things will seem archaic. But that’s the way it goes.

 

On July 15th, Ally and I celebrated our 4th anniversary. We went to my favourite local Italian restaurant. We then drove to Dairy Queen on Broadview, where Ally asked if she’d be a fatty if she got onion rings. Then we drove down to Riverdale Park and watched the sun set.

 

On August 4th, I got Pokémon GO, and it became the Summer of Pokémon GO. I picked a Squirtle as my starter Pokémon (naturally), and proceeded to spend hours walking around Gerrard, Danforth and Queen searching for Pokeymans and getting a bit of exercise. By the end of the summer, I had gotten to around Level 20. By mid-October, I finally evolved a Blastoise, and had reached Level 24. By early November, I evolved a Gyarados, and in mid-December I evolved a Venusaur. It contributed remarkably toward the amount of distance I walked between August and November, which I was proud of.

 

I went to two Blue Jays games that summer, which were fun, even though they lost and I had a bad headache the second time. It was cool to see them get so far, two years in a row. I’m not a sports guy, but it’s exciting to be in Toronto when the Jays and the Raptors are both doing well.

 

Also in August, my coworker died after less than a year with cancer. He had been a drug addict with about 20 years clean, and was partly responsible for me getting a job in my field. The funeral was packed.

 

On September 1st, I came home from work to find a letter from a lawyer, laden with mistakes, stating generally that I’m being sued for the car accident. “Oh, what a wonderful way to end my day!”, I thought. Ally noted that I didn’t freak out as much as she expected, and suggested I go for a walk. So I did. I ended up walking a lot while the summer heat still lingered, and bought myself a new pair of sneakers. It was a healthy, productive way to deal with frustration.

 

Around that time, I ‘harvested’ my first home-grown sweet pepper. I had planted a few seeds from a pepper I bought at No Frills earlier in the year, and by September I had a few plum-sized orange and green peppers. It was satisfying to be able to grow my own food from a seed, indoors, without any trouble. I’ll be doing that again in 2017!

 

In October, I finally changed my face. I let my horseshoe moustache (previously thought of as a “handlebar” moustache) grow in, and turn into a beard. As is my usual pattern, once I notice that a trend has been around for a while, and I’m no longer going to stand out by taking part, it becomes safe to try. But my beard will not become yuge, nor will it grow on my neck.

 

Also in the fall, my mother got the biggest news of the last several years in her life. My mother was adopted, and for most of her life, didn’t know anything about her birth family or medical family history. Through a DNA test of some kind, she found out that she has two biological sisters. I met them just before Christmas. It’s big news, but it’s mostly my mother's news, so I’ll leave it at that.

 

So now we come to the part of the essay about Donald Trump.

 

Like everyone else I know personally, I was appalled that The Donald won The Election. But was I shocked? Not really. Rewinding the tape many months, I suspected right from the start that Hillary would win. Almost everyone was talking as though she was the shoo-in, despite Trump’s momentum. But as I went to bed on November 8th, Trump was ahead by something like 104 to 82 Electoral College votes, and I had a bad feeling about it. I woke up at 6:00am the next day, picked up my phone, and saw that Trump had won the 270 votes. I looked at the detailed results on my laptop as I ate breakfast, just feeling disbelief. As I drove to work listening to 680 News, it’s all they were talking about. Several times over the next several days, the thought “This has actually happened; this is real” came back to me. I remember watching Barack sitting next to the Orange Emperor in the White House, eating the words he said on Jimmy Kimmel a week earlier: “Well, @RealDonaldTrump, at least I’ll go down in history as a president!” In fact, it inspired me to do a crude painting, of the Orange Führer smiling while Barack the Great[est] holds his own grimaced face in humiliation.

 

Then the blame game began all over the Internet. Was it angry white men? Was it the Democratic Party for toeing the party line instead of nominating the more-popular Bernie Sanders? Was it because the economy still sucks and a rich outsider was perceived as a better way to fix it? Was it because too many people didn’t vote at all? Was it because there’s been a general shift toward extremist views that coincides with the fading collective memory of the Holocaust? Time will tell, but it’s all of those things. It’s all of those things.

 

On December 1st, I got bloodwork done. Turns out my life as a sugar fiend is starting to catch up to me. My doctor gave me a horrifying list of behavioural modifications to follow. They included getting 30 minutes of exercise each day (“Okay, not impossible”); getting 5 servings of fruit and vegetables each day (“Five?! How?”); increasing soy intake (“Ew; soy is trendy!”), and avoiding trans fats (“Nooooo!!!!). But I was concerned. I’m 31; I’m not supposed to have to worry about my diet yet. But I started speeding up my almost-daily walks; eating more fruit, peanuts and sunflower seeds; eating significantly less chocolate; taking liquid fish oil, and ensuring that I have enough All-Bran for breakfast. And to my surprise, it wasn’t that hard a change.

 

In terms of the ongoing categories that I usually talk about at the end of these essays just for my own record, we’ve got music, books, and painting.

 

2016 was the Year of Queen for me. It started around the time we came back from Cuba, when I put my A Night at the Opera CD in my car. I actually got that CD for my birthday in 2004, but never really got into it. But this time I found that I liked all of the songs on the album, and began singing along with them, which I think has improved my singing a bit. In September or October I bought A Day at the Races, and in November I bought Sheer Heart Attack. I also started listening to News of the World again, and realized that despite hating it as a kid, I really like “We Are The Champions” now.

 

I continued with my Jon LaJoie revival that began in late 2015; got Dream Theater’s The Astonishing double album which I liked; and gave a brief listen to a few other random artists like Shigeo Sekito, Animals As Leaders, and Plini. Not an explosive year of musical discovery for me, but not bad either. I read somewhere a few years ago that people stop discovering new music once they reach their 30s, and I have slowed down a bit, but I am not going to stop.

 

The books I read in 2016 were An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth by Chris Hadfield (started in 2015); Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis; Here’s the Deal: Don’t Touch Me by Howie Mandel; Lifeline by Harry Bruce; The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous; The Biology of Desire (Why Addiction is Not a Disease) by Marc Lewis; and I just started The Dragons of Eden, by Carl Sagan.

 

I continued painting on and off throughout the year: the PEI ferries; Ally and I on a VW bus; a Squirtle; an evil squirrel; a rainbow slug monster; the DVP; The Donald and Barack; an abstract orange and an abstract green painting, and some snow-covered houses.

 

That’s all for me this year! In 2017, I’ve gotta do more wedding planning, including picking out a suit, a ring, and planning the honeymoon. Ally’s got most of her stuff done already – she’s so productive! I also hope she spends a bit more time doing self-care. Note to self: Join that cheap gym, and sign up for an art class. I keep talking. Just do it.

 

* * * * *

 

2016 was a rough year for humanity, even if individuals had great years. But this is life; it’s what happens while we’re wondering why. In 2017, celebrities will die. Donald Trump will say disgusting things. People will be mowed down in mass shootings. Middle-Eastern cities will be destroyed. Babies will be born. Planets will be discovered. Steps will be made toward mitigating human-caused climate change. People will go on amazing trips to new places. You will be disappointed, and you will be thrilled. People will say “Back in the good ol’ days, things were more in line with how I want them to be.” People will say “It’s a shame I will only live for so long; I can’t imagine what wonders the distant future holds!” If you adjust your expectations, your reactions will follow. Here’s hoping 2017 will be a year in which we can stay positive in the face of the inevitable challenges we will all encounter. Thanks for reading!

 

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IMG_1019780ps

I thought I was done shooting faces on the street.

 

This would have been my last real street shot.

 

Meet 'Francis.'

 

He's a homeless guy that I ran into on the street in Chicago.

 

He asked me for some dough and I didn't have any...

 

but I sat down with him for a few minutes to talk.

 

It was bitterly cold out and I asked him how he did it.

 

How he survived on the street like that.

 

'You become numb' he said.

 

His answer tore at my gut like the claw of a big cat.

 

We had a short conversation and I took a few pictures as we talked.

 

Francis didn't like the pictures I'd taken of him.

 

So I told him to tell me about something he loved.

 

That's how I got this picture.

 

You gotta relate to people to get shots like this.

 

They've gotta feel cool with you.

 

You want them to open up and show you just a little bit of their soul.

 

I'm gonna tell you what...

 

what happened that night scared the shit out of me and really shook me hard to the core of my being.

 

I don't understand it...

 

and maybe I never will...

 

but it's the first time in my life I can recall really being scared of anything like that.

 

Absolutely saturated with fear to the point that my fingers trembled.

 

It wasn't Francis' reaction to the shots or anything that he did.

 

It wasn't violence or a bad reaction of the type everyone asks me about as a result of shooting on the street.

 

That shit I can handle without a problem.

 

This was way scarier.

 

When I fell asleep that night I had these really powerful dreams.

 

Nothing really happened in them...

 

I just saw Francis' face.

 

But the things I felt in those dreams really shook me up.

 

It was as if I had felt the angst and the desperation that Francis himself must at times feel in his life.

 

I was horrified and I woke up sweating and shaking.

 

I'd been having dreams of this nature for a few months.

 

Maybe it's just an emotional byproduct of the intimate relationships I form with complete strangers on the street as I take their photographs.

 

I don't know.

 

But at first the dreams were compelling and even intriguing.

 

I wondered what they meant and I tried to listen to them and adjust the way that I approached people on the street.

 

But they kept increasing in their magnitude.

 

I still don't know what they mean or what my subconscious was trying to tell me.

 

But the feelings and the emotions that those dreams generated scare me even now as I write these words.

 

If you could see my fingers shake as I spill these thoughts on the keyboard...

 

If you could feel the rapidity of my heartbeat you'd know.

 

You'd know how hard it was for me even to put this picture up.

 

Sometimes it's tough to relate to another human being who's so vulnerable and lives such a life on the margins of society.

 

And almost all of the time it's even tougher to put that camera up to your eye at a moment like this.

 

Sometimes it's the most difficult thing I've ever found myself doing and for the most part I relished in the challenge.

 

I know that what I was doing brought some good into the world.

 

Into my world.

 

Into their world.

 

And into your world.

 

But the dreams became so powerful on a level that I've never experienced dreams to be and that scared the hell out of me.

 

I couldn't have handled one more night of those dreams.

 

I had to put the camera down.

 

I couldn't even look at the photographs that I'd taken.

 

For the first time in my life I had to look away.

 

It felt like my own survival was at stake.

 

My soul had become haunted by these images and the emotional upheaval was beyond incredible.

 

I felt weak and I felt guilty.

 

I was scared and I feared that I'd damaged myself somehow.

 

Try as I did there was no understanding to be found.

 

There was no lesson it seemed that I could learn.

 

Over and over again I stated to myself the obvious...

 

'I've gotten too involved in the pain of others and now I'm paying the price.'

 

I was ashamed to feel that way.

 

Even more horrifying of a thought was that I would have to modify my own human compassion only to survive and insure my sanity.

 

Or what was left of it.

 

Since I put the camera down I've stopped having the dreams.

 

I told myself that maybe I should look inside of myself while I was going through this struggle.

 

Maybe I would understand things more if I shifted my perspective.

 

I got nothing.

 

It's been a few weeks now since I've tried to do it.

 

I went to the Chinese New Year Parade last Sunday.

 

I told myself that I'd just shoot some street and not feel compelled to get up close.

 

If I had a zoom lens I would have thrown it on my camera.

 

Things have settled down in my soul and I feel a lot better.

 

A lot stronger.

 

It felt good to shoot out on the street even though I never really got 'close.'

 

But I'm still terrified.

 

I'm terrified that if I get in there...

 

If I go for the close up in the way that I've learned to do...

 

that the dreams will come again.

 

I know what that means.

 

It means the end of shooting faces on the street like this.

 

I'm afraid of that too.

 

For the very first time in my life I find myself operating out of fear.

 

Letting it dictate to me what I will or won't do.

 

There's a struggle in that in itself.

 

And at the same time this is my deep passion.

 

I am missing it like you couldn't believe.

 

Of all of the things that I've struggled with in life...

 

I never saw this one coming.

 

Something's been calling me in all of this and I feel so close to whatever that is.

 

Yet between me and that is a chasm filled with a boiling lake of fear.

 

A fear that I still do not understand.

 

Whatever it is...

 

I hope that I can face it.

 

I hope that I can overcome it.

 

I hope so much that I find the courage in my soul and the wisdom within me to do the right thing.

 

To deal with this in the right way.

 

Nothing good comes without work I know...

 

and nothing great is created without a struggle.

 

Maybe it's because I'm getting so close.

 

I wonder now though if I have it within me.

 

I have never doubted myself before this.

 

Now I question everything.

 

Now I question myself.

 

Have I found my own limit?

 

Has this become the moment that will define me?

 

Conscience

   

Song by Autumdivers.

 

.

.

.

  

I opened my window because it is raining and I love the rain. One of the few things I love everything about. I love the sound it makes as it rolls off of leaves, when it hits the pavement, when it jumps in with a running creek. I love the smell, especially in the summer, middle of the night. When it is just starting to drop below ninety. Northerners think they know the heat. No, they know the cold. No denying that. But hot? In the North? Sorry, but no. I get sidetracked. I do that sometimes. I love the way rain feels, too. If you’re cold, the way it seems to just roll right off your skin. And when you’re hot, your skin seems to soak it up. Saying give me more. I like to sleep during storms. Oh, that reminds me. I love storms too. And before a storm. The cool breeze, even when it’s ninety-eight out, there is always a breeze beforehand. It feels so nice. I can feel it on my face now, if I close my eyes. I think there is something wrong with my brain. The wires are messed up. The blue and pink ones were switched, I think. They all turned green.

I’m just sitting here next to the window. It’s open and it’s so hot out. But it’s raining and I love listening. It’s calming me down. It’s taking my mind off things. Except now I can feel my face. I feel every muscle and it all feels so heavy. Like a suitcase you packed too tight and it starts to pull on your arms, stretching the muscles and it hurts and it burns but mostly you just feel it. It’s heavy. I want to put my face down. Maybe I’ll just lay on the windowsill for a bit. My forehead is slick with sweat, so it just slid off. That’s why I have the fan on too. The window is open and my fan is on to counteract the humidity seeping in. The air is so heavy. Like my face. My forehead hurts now because I banged it on the sill. Accidentally. On purpose. I don’t know. My fan is on because I was taught not to care about the earth. The chains on the fan are shaking, back and forth, back and forth. There are birds singing outside. I’ve always wish I could understand them. I don’t know what they could possibly have to talk about. If I were a bird, I would be out flying during the rain. Gliding and feeling it and being free. Everyone always wants to be a bird. It’s so stupid and overrated. Not that I’ve ever been a bird. But I hate that everyone goes to that when they feel trapped. “Make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here.” Does anyone remember that movie?

It sounds like one of the birds is right next to my head. It can’t be, I know that, but it’s so loud. How is that happening. I hear all the boys downstairs, living and being happy. Being stupid. Being boys. So many cups being slammed onto hard surfaces. Lots of yelling. Lots of laughing. I wonder if they are talking about the girls they saw at the pool today. There’s this one older kid. I don’t like him. He’s rude and disrespectful and I’m judging.

Oh, a bird just flew by. It was red. Beautiful. I can see how everyone wants to be a bird. It can’t be such a great life, though. It just can’t be. We all wish we were something else. Someone else or something else, who knows. Both. Neither. All.

We all have to claim something. We all want something to be proud of. That’s why Northerners are tough in the winter. They don’t need jackets. They are proud of the inability to shiver. Southerners are proud of the heat. Proud of the sweat. Proud of the farmer’s tans. Place us in the other’s shoes and neither of us would last. Why are we so proud? Why do we have to own something? It is absurd and we all do it.

A bug flew in and bit my back. I can’t reach it. It is itching and I want it off me. But it’s gone, the bug. It must’ve gone back out the window. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in here either, little thing. I haven’t moved in a few hours. My knees are hurting. What is wrong with me. I’m not entirely sure.

It feels like yesterday when an acquaintance of mine came up to me. She has a pierced nose and eyebrow and her hair is so white it seems translucent in the sunlight. I suppose she saw me moving slowly, though I didn’t notice it. Usually I’m good about being observant when I can’t even remember picking out clothes to put on. She came over to me and said, “You gotta pick yourself up, ‘ight? I dunno what’s goin’ on with you, but it’s not about how you got on the floor, it’s about gettin’ up. How long it takes ya. You been doin’ this for a while now. It’s time.”

I am very tired of hearing variations of the same metaphor. Pick yourself up by your own bootstraps. It’s not how many times you get knocked down, it’s how many you get up.

I have something I want to say to them all. I want to tell them I own no furniture and I sit, sleep, eat, think, read on the floor.

May 2002. "The Met Cafe", Providence, RI.

 

From "the tour diary":

monday, may 13, 2002 - providence, ri

 

from pete:

 

woke up very well rested in vivek and tracey's pad in the sky. their turtle rex was staring at me out of his aquarium home, and I stared back at him wondering what he was really thinking. this was to be my last week of the tour so I was starting to feel a little melancholy (lights go down, violins play in background). as much as I miss lil the kill and the kids, I going to very much miss being in tour mode and playing w/watt and jer. at this point in the tour we've become a pretty well oiled machine and the shows have become much less scary and quite a bit tighter. hopefully things will fall into place when I get back and I'll be able to do the tour in the fall (it'll be a big step for me but I am forever the optimist).

 

vivek walks us back down to street level and we leg it on over to the lot where we parked the boat. watt pays the damage ($28.00!). we bid goodbye to and thank him and we're off towards providence. the sky is very dull and gray and the rainy weather hasn't let up yet (it's been with us since north carolina). we get out of manhattan relatively easy and I try to take some snaps as we go down FDR drive but there's too much rain and haziness to take anything remotely viewable. I am excited as I'm going to meet joe d. (aka joe depasquale) for the first time. mike's been telling us about him the whole trip and he sounds like an interesting cat. joe d. worked for the mayor, buddy ciani, who is being brought up on corruption charges and all kinds of other shit, it's front page news up here and it looks like they're going to put this cat away for a long time (they've got video of him and some of his crew accepting bribes. they called it "bringing the pizza and soda"). joe is also running for town council in providence (it's his fourth try).

 

we pull up to the pad around 3:00 (a place called the met cafe). parking is really scarce but we found a spot about a block away from the club, the only downside being that we would have to leg all the tools a good distance to the club in the rain (though it wasn't raining too hard at this point). nobody was at the club yet and we had about two hours til' loadin so me and jer went in search of some chow. we find a little deli right down the street from the pad called nick's, I order a tuna sandwich while jer orders some gluttenous item. the chow was very good. we finish eating and just then it starts to pour outside (buckets) so we dwcide to go back to the boat. as we near our spot we notice a big tourbus and trailer parked in front of this old theater that is a couple of doors down from the met, looks like there was another band playing right next to us so of course we had to go check it out. there were some cats that looked like crew members standing outside so jer asked them what band it was. "monster magnet" the cat replies. the guys name was ben and he was on the magnet crew. the place they were playing is called lupe's and is connected to the met and owned by the same cats only it's bigger. we watch as the cats load out all of the tools. those guys had so much equipment it was amazing! jer goes into the pad to ask if we can park behind the tour bus as there is a large space blocked off and our equipment will get drenched in the rain. the cat (I think he worked for lupo's) tells jer "no, I guess you're shit out of luck as we have another tourbus coming." well thanks for helping out the little guy you fucking putz, (fwiw, the cats on the monster magnet crew cool to us). watt goes to talk to someone inside and gets the same speil, only this guy tells him "well you know man, big band, big bus, little band, little bus, whatever. one of the crew cats says we can park the boat in back of the bus to unload, but we have to move it again. watt decides against this as we would probobly end up losing our coveted space and end up having to park much farther away. the downpour lets up a little but it's still coming down pretty good but we opt to do the load-in anyway. we get about half the tools into the pad when it starts coming down like niagara falls. me and watt make a run for it and jump in the back of the boat and shut the hatch. after about five minutes there is a slight respite in the downpour (it's still coming down but not so agro). we finish the loadin and set up the tools on stage after which the soundman (john) shows up. the monster magnet's lighting guy shows up to take a peek and rap w/watt and gives him a cd of his own band. the cat (tim is his name) is really cool and asks us what time we're going on. "11:00," watt replies. "well doesn't that eat a bag of dicks" he replies (monster magnet is going on at the same time). he said he and a bunch of his crew mant to come in an check it out if they can. watt says "sure, no problem." some of the crew come in to hear our soundcheck and applaud approvingly when we're done. me and jer are hungry so we go in search of some chow. jer wanted to go to this small sushi place but it was closed, so we find a little cuban joint next door. the chow is very kind and we munch happily. we head on back to the pad and once again it is pouring so we run in quickly. monster magnet is in the midst of their soundcheck and we check it out for a while. not really anything to pique our interest so we go back into the met. jer goes to chimp diary on his puter while I sit in the dressing room chimping in longhand. cobra does their soundcheck and they sound very good. I continue my chimping as I am way behind.

 

I hear cobra start the set and stop my chimping. I decide to lay my head back and give 'em a listen. they are raging as always and the crowd is extemely raging. I peek outside the door and the place is packed! I can't believe it. monday nite, pouring rain and these cats brave the elemants to see the show. much respect to all of you. the cobra's do their last song so I go to wake up the chief. I inforrm him (as jerry informed me) that there are twice as many people at our show as there is at monster magnets' (I felt bad for them and the road crew having to do all that work for naught but somebody on their crew definitely tossed some bad karma our way and it came back to 'em). the chief is incredulous but shares my feelings about the bad karma thing.

 

mike does the segueway into the first song and my rig takes a dump once again. shit! I yell for mike to stop and start to do a spiel while I try to get the machine going again. after about five minutes I am successful and we continue with the set. the crowd is very understanding about the glitch and they give us much love and enthusiasm during the set. to compound my nervousness about my rig, john the singer of cobra verde has issued us a challenge; we have to do a spiel about the tour in croatian (watt tells me to say something about what I learned on my first tour; sage advice he calls it). I am really nervous about it but watt tells me it'll be a great character builder so I can't possibly back down. after we do the "big bang theory" watt stops us and tells me to do the spiel. I'm furiously thinking about what to say so I calm myself down and give a little preface to the crowd in english and then continue in croatian, first thing I say I learned is not to drink any bottles of yellow liquid in the boat, second, never ake the captain before he's suppposed to be awakened, third, the answer my friend is not blowin in the wind, and fourth and more important (I said this in english also), is that all over the country, no matter where we've been, people are pretty much the same. there are the good, and there are the bad. I think the people dug on it very much and I'm glad I did it (mike liked it too). the remainder of the show went off without any glitches and I felt really good about the gig (accept for the rain). joe d. came up and introduced himself and introduced me to "mahk" (mark) whose pad we were crashing at. joe d. and his crew helped us load up the boat and we steam off to "mahk's." I'm a little wired up still so I read some of the tour diaries on the hoot page until the sandman hits, after which I konk. hard. laku noc sviraci...

   

from jer:

 

I awake in the room vivek set up for us and hop in the shower. very nice pad he has. inherited from his parents a few years ago, now shared w/tracy. I enjoy the view of the city from the corner windows and pet murf the kitty a little. I grab my goods and vevek walks us down to the boat. I nap a hot cocoa from a street vender and catch up at the parking lot. we thank vevek and shove off towards conn.. good timing for a depart and no traffic problems getting out of the city. ny can be nightmare at any time. once clear of the metro area the country side changes to a more rural surrounding. I rest some as we pass into conn.. the state's get smaller in new england so crossing 'em becomes a shorter journey. in no time rhode island comes into view. I watch as pete has difficulties w/directs as usual. the downtown area fortunately is small and the met is found w/just a couple turns. parking here is lame and mike get lucky w/a spot on the same street. someone put up some barriers in front of the club not allowing anyone to park. it's now raining and I see the writing on the wall. gear soak! before loadin pete and myself grab a bite at the deli on the corner. cheap sands. and a dry place to kick for a while. we return to throw the gear and a tour bus is parked in front of the lupo (club next door). we go to examine the deal. monster magnet is playing the big room tonight and I watch as they discharge the piles of equipment. some guy named ben talks some and is bummed that he has to work the merch. for the magnet and can't see our show. a good 1/2 hour goes by and still the gear is being unloaded. I use the door to enter the met from the side. looks a little different from the show of last time. more space for the peoples. searching out an employee of the joint I inquire about parking the boat in front of the club. there's a couple dudes claiming the status and have no trouble telling me I'm "shit out of luck." the rain falls harder. we get the gear and huff it in the downpour. I'm soaked, pete soaked, mike soaked, gear soaked! after all the stuff is in the boss man arrives and informs us that we could have parked in front and the pions don't know their dick from their ass. I towel my drums and get the set up on. the cobras show and have the same soak issues. w/the check concluded I tell pete of a good sushi pad a block and we dash in the rain to chow. of course today's the only day of the week their closed and we opt for a cuban diner next door. it's cheaper and not bad so no complaints. I decide to chimp at the bar tonight and get inspiration from the rock.

 

I told by mike prior to our set that a local cat named ted will be jamming w/us on two wire songs from the jom and terry show set. pete doesn't know 'em so it's a three piece jam. I'm kinda scared playing 'cause the last time through I had a tough gig. kel was in town and I had some focus problems. this one I'm gonna be on the ball. things roll good and only a small hiccup on bursted man. the set ends and for the encore mike brings up ted. he starts the tune and its much slower than we ever did it. I try to adjust and end up speeding the tune along. mike yells and hisses to slow back to ted pace. I'm so used to doing it faster it's kinda autotron. w/the second tune I stay on the beat and it keeps together. thanks ted for doing a good job. pete returns and the shows finished. I kick and rap w/sean of prov. the kind fellow who put us up last time. he informs me we can't stay at his pad any more 'cause mike smoked so many cigs in the house the smell lingered for 4 days. the wife didn't dig that one t'all. joe depasquale comes to say hi and I meet his pal mark (were staying w/him). joe promises to take us to breakfast in the morning at some grease spoon.

 

w/mark in the boat we shove off to the crash pad of the night. on the road out of town the rain starts falling hard and visibility diminishes to near blinding levels. mike takes it slow and we navigate off the highway safely. mark's pad in sight we park and I grab my shit fast as not to get totally soaked loitering outside. I'm offered a couch in a separate room and mark hooks me up w/an electric blanket. warm and cozy I will be. I rap a few minutes w/kel and make sure all is well w/her return. her ma was a no show at the house for mothers day and she's feeling a bit lonely. I cheer her up and give her my best reassurance speech. a strong girl she is and it'll take a lot more than a flaky episode to knock my lady down. be good sweetie. I now lay me down to sleep.

   

from watt:

 

pop and say hi to murphy the orange cat. he seems tongue-tied. he loves the fingers raking him soft on the back though. I look out the window - whoa, what a drop - straight down! watt's got vertigo and it spooks me, even w/the glass there. what a view though looking straight out, it's towards brooklyn and I'm transfixed for a while, just thinking and thinking - nothing on purpose but just letting things naturally come to me. my head gets warm, gets airy. I hose off and then roust my guys so we can bail early, easier to make the escape from new york city. while they ready, I see the ny times on the table and there's an article on hindu nationalists in india. vivek's family's from india though most live in guiana now. I ask him what he knows about this. he's not that informed, he's been back there only once. I tell him about our name, the minutemen and one reason we picked it in the old days. there was this group of rightwing militant types called the minutemen in the sixties who threatened those who they thought weren't "american enough." we thought if there was another group w/the same name, people would get confused (obviously, we had a much different message) and that would dilute their nonsense. d. boon said those minutemen were reactionary and using the quote, "all reactionaries are paper tigers," he thought it was funny for us to be called that. funnier even, the punk band we started more than a year before the minutemen was in fact, called the reactionaries. it was for the same reason: to get people to challenge labels, messages, slogans, ideologies - all that kind of conflict. d. boon had a knack w/that sort of thing. I had a list of all these band names and he picked both of those from it - god, were most of them the silliest in the world. I'm can be pretty silly even when I think I'm so serious. I lose perspective and the outside gets a big laugh on my insides. d. boon had a good sense at taking on conflict in the social sense. damn, I wish he could've helped me w/the ones raging in my head. in a way, he did by helping me learn to express myself and force me to make myself more clear. d. boon always wanted a clear-headed watt and couldn't fathom why I would get things all so tangled up inside. he said I was too stuffed w/stress, that's why it showed in my music, my words and my way of interacting. he said I had my own industry of it in me - it's own economy, politics and religion w/it. d. boon was always very honest w/me. I loved him so for that, among other things. I could always count on d. boon not to shit me or pull punches when it came to how he felt about me. at the same time, he put so much confidence in me. I could never be scared being next to d. boon. well, the fear me be there at the chamber door, knocking away but he helped give me the strength to fight it. aahhh, I go on and on about him - god, how I leaned on that man...

 

we hoof back to the lot where the boat is - whoa, twentyeight bucks to park over night! at least the boat was safe so it's worth it. this is an expensive town anyway so it shouldn't be that much a surprise. it used to be nineteen dollars in the lot behind jimbo's on canal but those days are over, he moved to the northeast corner of manhattan, washington heights. he's getting married in august. things change, that's the only thing constant it seems. we say bye to vivek and his partner jim (they run a site called www.starpolish.com) and we shove off towards fdr drive, the fastest way north or south on the east side of manhattan. gray, gray skies and soon rain causing big chops in the east river. we drive by the united nations building but can't see it cuz of the cement overhang above the freeway. we go by roosevelt island and see the abandoned insane asylum on the southern part. I have a good laugh inside likening it to the state of things inside my head. we hit the triborough bridge and leave manhattan. bye-bye. I ask pete to man the barbie purse (ibook) and use the mapping software to help keep me true to our course. I've plotted a route through the bruckner expressway to I-95 which will take us through connecticut and into rhode island. he can't find it. I get uptight and keep telling him to look for the gray - look for the gray, the hatches. this flusters him. what's actually up is I'm using fucked up language to try to communicate him something in my head. the route is delineated by a pattern of crosshatch marks superimposed upon the roads involved but my words offer little help cuz they're confusing. I have to keep my attention on the wheel and can't really physically point it out to him so I get more and more like a nut trying to explain something that he can't see corresponding to what's on the screen. aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhh... jer finally saves the day by using his finger to show pete what I'm trying to mean. sorry, pete. what a fucking idiot, watt. aahh, I'm mad at myself for being such a bozo. right away, doors start to open and pete sees exactly what's going on. we're all together now. fuck, am I drama queen. surely not the stuff those born to lead are made of. I will say we do get quite a laugh out of it all when calm comes. I sure have a good crew. my mental state is for sure not so hidden to them. they are quite generous and forgiving gentlemen. no construction and relatively light traffic make for an easy glide into connecticut. I usually bypass this way for a northern bypass through the series of parkways where trucks aren't allowed by today we're in luck on the major corridor. not so lucky w/the weather, rain is coming down and gets heavier as we go east. we pass through stamford, new haven and new london - not able to see shit except the road ahead. pete gets a big bottle of gatorade out of the cooler. always, I write "no drink" on vessels used for holding piss but I must've spaced on this one - why else would've someone put it in the cooler. pete holds the jug up to the light. if this is gatorade, what flavor is this? sentiment at the bottom holds a clue. I tell pete to fuck that shit, I don't think it's gatorade. aahh, idiot watt - I can't space on the label thing again. jer finds a big bottle of hydrogen peroxide that has "contains piss" written on the label. I remembered writing on that one right away cuz the danger posed by it not being a clear bottle. jer just then finds another unlabled vessel, a one quart soup thing. there's a spoon in it and it's only half full. I know for sure that's piss cuz that it's probably the yat gaw soup from I chowed in asbury park, now kidney filtered. I grab my marker and write "no sips" on it. my guys laugh pretty hard at all this. we try to have a good time on tour. you can see how it brings out the little boy in one. like perry once told me, "mike, keep the child's eye." jer pops one of those tins of hot sauce 'dines that jumbones gave us and chows me w/them on some blue corn chips. thanks, jer. pete's busy catching up w/chimping. cuz of some bug in jer's 'puter, he's writing by hand in a composition book that danny's bro mike gave him. jer had to work hard to recover some days he lost. fucking machines. oh well, we're working hard to keep these tour spiels coming!

 

we pull into downtown providence and the rain's really coming down now and it's fucking cold. may thirteenth my ass - it's like november! another reason for coming early was so pete could check his shit out and try to find out what's going on and correct it. there's a big tour bus and trailers and shit bogarting most the curb. we're at the met cafe tonight and it's connected to lupo's heartbreak hotel, the place for I guess what you would call "the real rock bands." some dick tells us to park where we can, that's the way it is for acts who play the met cafe - in his words, "you're shit out of luck." ok, so we gotta load the gear through the fucking driving rain. so we do - no big deal, I guess. after years of shit like that, you get used to it. I've learned to laugh it off. the big rock band crew is quite nice though. the light man, tim, comes over to say hi and talk w/me - he's just read steve blush's "american hardcore" which has a bunch of quotes from me in it. he gives me a cd of his band, the ribeye brothers too. he wants to watch us play but the band he's working for (the big rock one) goes on at the same time. this bums him out and he tells me in a heavy jersey voice, "don't that eat a bag full of dicks?" totally, tim - you're a good man. the drum tech comes by and gives me his band's cd, lord sterling - he was gonna play w/me at the saint in asbury park but this tour came up (all these cats are from the jersey shore). the merchandise cat buys a shirt from me. I was gonna give tim a dos cd but he already had it so I give it to the merch man. they all take a picture w/me. all very cool peeps. so much different from a manager guy who confronts me and says "can I help you" in a very unfriendly tone - I was just trying to give these guys stickers of the boat. I tell him I'm playing next door and some nice man vouches for me. I've had trouble being the right looking person w/some of the big rock people. you know, "big band, big man - little band, little man" and that sort of thing. people who know who I am by what I do though get another perspective though, and much respect to them for the open hearts.

 

I get some corn chowder and a salad down the block. after a quick sound check w/john, it's to the boat to chimp diary and konk. god damn is it cold, I have two blankies on me to weather it. the drops pound the boat up good. it does calm some cuz the writing puts me in quite a state. a good stress relief though, I konk like that once I'm done. pete comes gets me when it's gig time.

 

I missed the verdes. I did get to talk w/john a bit when they got here. he's a newspaper writer too and wants to do a story on flannels some time. he likes what I know about them. he really wants me to record and record. I do too, it's been weird these last years - taking so long to make records. I'm going to get back to my minutemen roots and record every seven or eight months like we used to. can't believe I've gotten like I have. a weird phase in my musical life. I have bee touring like crazy though, that's a good thing. I just gotta make records like I used to. seems like I've fallen into a routine that involes us, me and the tour life, as a couple and not remembering to include each of us as individuals. this is a problem. we're so connected, there's no time for records! it's become quite overwhelming. I gotta get things back in the right perspective. shit, I've had enough experience w/it. this is something I'm gonna work really hard on. I've got such great teams to work w/in my life: the secondmen, the jom & terry show, the pair of pliers and the black gang. all mike watt bands that have cats I all very much love - all w/their own distinct voice and personality. I've got tons of music to do w/all of them. I love touring too - don't get me wrong. my love is always getting twisted up w/me, seems almost par. look at this, suddenly I'm questioning what I'm doing and where I'm going! first order of business: this gig, then this tour, then the sickness record... tonight's gig is where I must get to now.

 

the first part is kind of tough. for one thing, pete's organ fails right after I do my intro! oh no! he gets things going again quick though. whew... wonder what's up. I can tell he's very frustrated by this. hang on, pete. another thing is my guys keep jumping the gun on parts and that kind of cuts into the drama that sharpness accentuates. these parts are straight time anyway and they should wait for me, not to sound like a dictator or something but this will make things pop out better. this happens when material gets a little too familiar. I have to admit I fucked some words also, losing a little nerve too but nothing like brooklyn or manhattan. it's ok though cuz we start getting it much together by the third tune. after "the big bang theory," I have pete spiel to the folks. after sound check, I asked him to come up w/a spiel where he talks in serbo-croatian sage advice he's learned here on his first tour. I ask him about gettin from pedro to cleveland and dealing w/all the different people and towns. he speaks of watching what you drink from in the boat and that he's found people are people, no matter where you go and that's a righteous thing. great spiel, pete. the people really dig it. it's a good set, even w/the shaky start and these providence folks are very kind and good in spirit. very happening. encore time and we bring on ted, a local cat who asked me if he could bring his guitar and do a couple of wire songs. he starts off "ex-lion tamer" at the tempo it is on the original album but by the chorus, jer is speeding it way up. damn. I don't want to make it look like we're trying to steamroll ted. I'm kind of mad at jer - me and him are supposed to be a fucking rhythm section and listen to each other but I can tell it's more from him being scared and not confident about the tune. his hands kind of cramped up again too, it was a hard set for him. "three girl rhumba" is much better. thanks, ted. we bring pete back on and do what we usually do for the encore. I'm happy w/how the show went overall. much congrats to my men.

 

I sling much, the folks are quite kind. more thanks to me for chimping diary - wow, that's kind of a mindblow. you're very welcome. it seems all like so much self-therapy for me, hard to figure that folks can relate to what I'm rattling off. jer's and pete's are quite good though. joe d is here and gives me some flannel-lined jeans, like the ones his boy sonny has. thank you much, mister joe d! his bud mark is here too and invites us to konk at his pad. I go to settle the show and the lady tells me we had more people at our show than the big rock band - what?! damn. that's a trip. we have to load out in some real rain, what a nightmare. mark rides w/us and the sky is coming down in buckets - I gotta take it slow on the freeway and have the flashers on. I mean it's a fucking torrent. we make it to his pad in nearby warren safe though. it's that same pad I stayed in when I had the pliers w/me. what a time we had that night - the cat who just lived there was deported back to portugal and joe d was very driven to point out certain things in a video that got found there. it was hilarious. we have some good laughs remembering that night. it's a great way to konk.

 

It shoots fucking lighting. My minigun and Linda's MG just seem to be pissing it off. No idea if we've done any damage. We've resorted to running down the road leading into Rossum Robotics. The place is sitting on the coastline, with the road lying on a cliff to the water below. To the left it's a drop into the water. To the right just a cliff wall. Nowhere else to really run. I could've called in the Sky Slayer, but the goddamn remote was in the Roadblade... The only real option is to run. This fucking sucks There's gotta be something we can do, something we can--

 

"J?"

 

"What's up?"

 

"Besides a giant robot trying to murder us, I think I have an idea."

 

"What is it? Will it work?"

 

"...not really sure. In fact I kinda doubt it. But I don't see either of us thinking of anything better right now."

 

"What's your idea?"

 

She jumps the railing to the right and starts climbing up the cliff wall. Didn't go very well the last time she went rock climbing. 'least she has something protecting her face this time, but--did she just pull out an explosive knife?

 

"The fuck are you doing?"

 

"Hitting on the ground isn't working. Let's see how hitting it on it's own level will work. These will go through anything, right?"

 

"Yeah, but can you even throw it and make it stick?"

 

"I'm not throwing it, J..."

 

"Then how are you---NO. That's fucking stupid, you'll get killed!"

 

"I'll be fine! I know what I'm doing. Hide in the cliff edge or something, that thing's coming!"

 

"Linda, no! C'mon, you don't even know if this will work, just think for a--ah shit..."

 

I saw that glowing eye in the distance. I look back up and I see Linda still climbing. There's some shade up there so the darkness will hide her for the moment...assuming that thing doesn't have thermal vision or something. All I can do is hide. I've never had to hide from anything while in the armor. I hate everything so much right now...

Here's some dumb facts cause that freakin' Waspboy5253 tagged me or some shit. Not sure if I have to do 20 or 40 so i'll do 30 just to piss everyone off.

 

1. I like bonkles (duh)

2. My first bionicle was Onua Nuva at the grand old age of 3. My brother got Lewa AND pohatu and he doesn't even like the fricking things.

3. I started posting my custom MOCs in 2011 on MOCpages.

4. I was led here by a guy who I was friends with on Lego Universe named DragonMaster (he's called Legobob on MOCpages but he ded :()

5. I have bought a lot of system but I have almost entirely lost interest in it.

6. I found a storyboard for a Bionicle stopmotion I was gonna make when I was 8 or 9. No point in uploading it cause it's 1. shit and 2. only has like 4 pics and didn't bother finishing it.

7. I believe there needs to be more Bionicle comics (if thats what you want to call them) instead of stories as I think the comics are more creative.

8. Speaking of creative, I love art and drawing.

9. Made that segway cause I had no more bonkle stuff to talk about. Just so ya know.

10. I can't even remember when I started drawing.

11. There's two drawings that are posted on Flickr right now but they aren't very good.

12. I don't really have that big of an interest in Music. I sort of just like all types of music. Don't listen to it a lot though.

13. Despite this, I have tried to learn (and failed) 3 different instruments

14. Kek. This is how old I am. My birfday is on the 20th of Christmas Month. Gotta love the interruption for shit you might already know.

15. Back to music, I tried to learn violin when I was 7 or 8 up until I was 11 and a half. I absolutely loathed it. There were many tear filled nights of me begging my parents to let me quit. It didn't work until I left primary school.

16. Then in Secondary School I tried learning Guitar for a year when I was 12-13 years of age. Hated it once again but the teacher was crap and I was originally going just cause my friend was going (he didn't even end up joining)

17. Finally, I tried to learn Piano from 13-present, I, guess what, hate that too! Well, hate is a strong word, I actually like it the most out of them. I still hope to quit when I return to school after summer.

18. I also love dem darn fangled Video Gamez.

19. I am also terrible at nearly every game.

20. My favourites are Telltales The Walking Dead, The Halo Franchise (lol even though I've never bought any of them and only played with brother or friends), Deus Ex Human Revolution, Sanic G(otta go fast)enerations, All the batman games (Can't play the new one cause no next gen consoles >:C) And Transformers Fall of/War for Cybertron.

21. I am socially awkward and an introvert...kek.

22. My real boy name is Callum.

23. I live in Northern Ireland

24. I have brown eyes and brown curly hair (my friends say i have quote "Black man hair".

25. I wish to achieve Jon Snow hair (refrence: www.empireonline.com/images/uploaded/o-KIT-HARINGTON-face...) by growing my hair out. It is fools hope as it *will* (not *might*) end up like this images.halloweencostumes.com/products/3897/1-1/hippie-afr....

26. i have a celebrity crush on Lauren Cohan (Can you judge me? lauren-cohan.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/lauren-cohan-...)

666.. I am a strong feminist and think you are a man pig if you stare rape me.

28. Lol did you think I was serious with the last one? Lolno that is fucking dumb. I hate radical feminism. I believe they started out with a nobel cause but ended up with a mess of a movement that is used to make males have less rights than feminists (FFS the pay gap is a piece of misleading evidence and is useless)

29. Crap, I used a pretty bad no no word.

30. I don't believe in God, the bible or anything else religious. It's 100% fine if you do, but I personally don't.

31. <<< Kek, I lied at the start, Had more facts than I thought.

32. I hate judgemental people who, for example, pick on you for liking a certain game franchise or something. Like piss off, it doesn't do anything to hurt people and it shouldn't concern you.

33. That being said, don't wave this thing you like in everyone's face. If they don't like it your not going to change their opinion. In the famous words of Franku b0ss "Do whatever the hell you want, just keep that shit away from me!"

34. I believe everyone should have equal rights. Including genders, just cause I am not a feminist doesn't mean I hate women, I just think the feminist name has been dragged around in the bushes too long and isn't respectable anymore (damn I'm rambling, aren't I?)

35. I love The Walking Dead so much. I love the Comic, Show and Game. It is such a good series and I think you should read/watch/play it if you are interested in that sort of stuff.

36. I also recently finished watching GoT and love that as well. It may have taken over Walking Dead as my favourite show, but that is still in consideration. I am presently going through the first book.

37. I have an f-ed up sense of humour. When I make jokes...No one is safe...all bets are off. That includes gender, race, death and tragedies. You may think I am a terrible person but you should always take these things I say as a JOKE. (See #33 and Papa Franku quote on #33)

38. Now time to get serious...I really loved my parents. My father owned a company and all was pretty good. They were killed outside a theater though beside me by some maniac. I will always remember them...

39. My cleaner and childminder took me in and cared for me as a surrogate father. I once fell into a well and got really scared. I always hated that maniac who killed my parents. So I dressed up in a bat suit and fought crime.

40. That joke wasn't even funny. I hope I at least tricked you into thinking my parents died. No I don't have a butler who took me in and my parents are fully alive and well.

41. Oh yeh I also like Batman quite a lot...(By the way, there's 41 facts cause I'm an idiot and had 2 32's originally... Sue me! I do what I want!)

 

And that was 40 useless facts you probably could have gone without knowing! :D See ya!

 

I Tag Commander Spencer and ~Hazaroth

Well, Abe's gonna have a late Christmas gift now. Not the cleanest gift or the nicest but it's the thought that counts, right? Anyway, I made it over to the Patton Arms building and shit got weird quick. The guards around the building weren't the typical rent-a-cops Arnie usually has holding up the perimeter. They looked like full-blown mercs, armed with completely illegal ARs and combat shotguns. I show one of them my access card and he lets me on through. For a good 10 steps I could just feel the guy starring at me until I walked into the building. I told the secretary at the desk that Arnie sent me, and she told me he was in his office. A trip on the elevator later and it gets even more fucked up. More merc-looking guys and some MIB agents. That's what it looked like anyway. Keeping my access card out, I finally make it to Arnie's office. Christ, he remodeled. There's a fucking missile launcher and four missiles to the left with an M1 Garand above. Must be Arnie's own Garand from his time as a Marine. On his desk next to a laptop is a grenade. I hope it's a dud he's using as a paperweight.

 

"Ah, um, Mr. Kamiroff, this is that high priority individual I was talking about. We'll continue this tomorrow."

 

Fuck right I'm high priority. The guy Arnie was doing business with was a skinny guy with shoulder-length hair, Guy was missing a hunk of his arm, too. He shot me a glance as he walked out. I've killed child murderers with warmer eyes...

 

"Arnie, look, I think we're getting closer. That AH-6 can't be-"

 

"AH-6? Were'd you get that? It's a weaponized UH-60 we're looking for!"

 

"Police reports talk about an AH-6, though. What gives?"

 

"Christ, I'm giving these morons a gunship and they can't even get the name right. Look, we can't wait much longer. We've gotta find this thing yesterday. You know the tech I stuck on that thing!"

 

"Yeah, that missile deterrent shit that's on the Sky Slayer. Look Arnie, I jus slammed a fucking powersaw in a guy's face trying top find this chopper. I'm doing everything I can. I'm only one guy."

 

"I know. That's why I've got more people on the job."

 

"Is that what the mercs and suits are for?"

 

"Yes. Well, kinda. Need them around for other reasons."

 

"Like?"

 

"Can't say. Well, yet. Look J, you know I'm kinda paranoid, and this whole BS with the Chopper is--"

 

"Mr. Patton, the General is here."

 

"Fuck... Keep looking, alright J?"

 

General? I don't like when Arnie hides stuff from me....

Hi family and friends,

 

Man, I think I need to hire a publicist, the last thing you want to do when you get off the bike following a race is fiddle with a borrowed PC laptop at the racetrack! I gotta get me own MacBook Pro..

 

So! Sorry for the delay, a lot of you have been screaming at me, just got back home to Los Angeles last night and been knackered all day, finally got a moment to sit down and fill you in on how the final race went at Macau. I know this is a bit long, too, and again sorry, maybe read it at work so at least you're getting paid to hear my rambling ons?

 

After a handful of long sessions of practice and qualifying the clutch started slipping. William changed it out for the 20 minute Saturday morning warm-up before the race, but I remember thinking and mentioning it after I got off the track that the clutch still seemed to be slipping ever-so-slightly but only in one section of the track where we accelerate steeply downhill from the slowest of hairpins imaginable, bang upshifts hard over loads of high-frequency ripples atop an off-camber kink of pavement on this public road course, all the while threading two very close Armco walls on each side. It was hard to tell whether it was the clutch slipping at the highest of RPMs or if it was the rear wheel spinning over the wee tiny moguls on the tarmac. These real roads circuits sometimes feel more like motocross tracks than roadrace tracks.

 

Since it was a new clutch the team instructed me to do the 20 minute warm-up first, bed the clutch in a bit, then do a practice start at the end of the practice (which most riders do, as well, often side by side at the end of the final lap before exiting the track). The clutch lever was later found, after the warm-up practice, to be all the way tight tight against the cable which could have caused it to be slipping during practice. I wish I had felt that tension and adjusted it, I just don't use the clutch lever very much anymore after leaving the pits.

 

The start of the race this year consisted of two (2) sighting laps and two (2) warm-up laps instead of the traditional one (1) each. What happened was the horizontal and vertical rows of round RED street lights above the Start/Finish line were not toggled off properly by the organizers for the first attempted start of the race, as per the rule book, so after a botched and erratic launch from all the competitors the organizers decided to red flag the race near the end of the first racing lap, and start them over again. We were funneled back into our pit garages and told we'd start the whole process over again which would include a new sighting lap, new tyre warmers on the grid, umbrella girls, photographers, waiting, then eventually sent out once again for another full warm-up lap and restart.

 

The two times I left the pits for the sighting laps or left my grid position for the initial warm-up lap, I'd do a light launch on the clutch to feel how it was grabbing, where the position of the lever would be on the bars when it engages, etc. Maybe I shouldn't have.

 

As we started our second sighting lap out of the pits I rolled onto the gas full down the straight and the tach needle went straight to the limiter but the bike wasn't accelerating. I had fooked the clutch, our race was over.

 

I tried to baby it the rest of the lap to see if it wouldn't calm down or cool off but it was worthless, the clutch was fried. So so disappointed and a little perplexed I pulled up to our starting position and told the crew about the clutch. We just kinda stared at each other.

 

"So, if it keeps slipping, and I try to keep it down to a minimum, will it eventually blow up your engine?"

 

"No."

 

"If the thing keeps slipping, and um...., will the plates eventually, I don't know, overheat and catch on fire?"

 

"They shouldn't."

 

"The clutch won't, like, grenade and lock up the rear wheel sending me into a cobblestone wall at a buck ten, will it?"

 

"I doubt it."

 

"Are they aluminum or steel clutch plates?"

 

(Richard and Dave be quiet....)

 

"Steel."

 

"Shit."

       

Ah, man, then I notice the starting grid international live camera man / feed person has been kneeled down in front of us filming for the last 30 seconds while I've been staring at my gas tank in deep disgusted thought and the crew is looking like they could strangle someone. Then see us on the huge MegaTron television thing out of the corner of my eye. Bad timing for PR smiles. So, I say to myself in a dorky accent, 'Wave to millions of people from a 100 countries, yes yes, we're all having a good time out here at the races.... Come to Macau next year.... I make funny face now because-ah riders such wild and crazy guys, yuk yuk..!' How did i do? Fook, I can't believe this clutch thing is happening to us..

 

"Okay. What do you think we should do?"

 

"Could it be dangerous for the other guys if my bike stops driving down the straights unexpectedly?"

 

"You'll have to make that call once you're out there, don't take any chances."

 

"Well, we've come all this way and worked so hard, what if I do the warm-up lap flat-out and see how it feels under racing conditions, then make a decision at the end of the lap, before I line up on the starting line. I'll come off track at the pit lane entrance if I think it's impossible to make work. Cool?"

 

"Agreed."

 

I launch the bike gingerly at the start of the warm-up lap and roll the power on in sixth gear. It was slipping, no doubt about it. But, as long as it doesn't grenade, it may be more annoying then dangerous. At the end of the warm-up lap, I decide to try.

 

Lining up to the white line with (lucky) 13 painted next to it, my starting position, I made another decision that if we were going to go forward with this thing I should no longer baby it, not second guess the clutch, the slip, and give this incredibly dangerous first lap at Macau anything less than a 100% aggressive effort. The last thing I want to do is ride safe and make stupid mistakes. Its not only me that can get hurt out there but someone else around me, all of them friends of mine, who could get damaged if one of us hooligans starts braking too early, failing to get on the gas early, or was to block the inside racing lines the whole race trying to keep others behind his ailing machine. Fat chance, we made the decision to go all or nothing and we decided all, so that's the end of it.

 

I didn't think for one-second the clutch would make it three laps. Guess what, it did.

 

After a full tilt launch, the (clutch slipping) first straight-away, (a working clutch) first horrifyingly fifth gear kink with 38 of the lads jockeying in and out of each others draft kicking up dust and rocks off line, threading through Armco for fooks sake, we all got through the first hard braking corner at Lisboa from about 180mph+ to 25mph. Sorted.

 

I came from 13th around the outside a bunch of guys in Turn 1 to, I think, 8th place, very briefly, before being again gobbled up by one or two positions leaving me in 10th place by the end of the first lap. On the second lap everyone seemed to settle into a 7600 horsepower snakelike Conga dance, slithering through technical bits of unimpressed walls, head to tail, like a bunch of drunks on the dance floor near the end of a cheesy wedding reception.

 

Only, we're cooler. And, drink more.

 

Up San Francisco bend, clutch slipping slightly, I'm surprised, genuinely, that the clutch seems to be getting BETTER.

 

After all of this drama before and at the start of the race I'm finally getting my head back into the right place. The Celtic bike is working perfect. It's so damn fast and is handling flawless. The clutch slowly stops slipping through all of the corners except that same section where it seemed to slip all weekend. 'We're going to make it to the end of this race,' I think to myself. 'Unfookingbelieveable.'

 

Three laps from the end and after a seesaw battle in lap times with my boy Jeremy Toye and this 4'7" Portuguese rider who is quite fast, I bend the bike into the second to last corner which is full full lean angle, bumpy, with massive trail-braking.. all the way at the apex and after the braking was done, I am just twisting the throttle when the back wheel locks up and I almost high side. Not good, there, as the run-off in this particular part of the track is a short beige concrete wall that I believe had a car or a bike actually go OVER and into the sea long long ago. An ocean nearly surrounds the Macau racetrack.

 

'WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!!??'

 

I kept going and reckoned the rear tire must be shot so I'll need to be extra careful bending the thing in hard on the brakes for the remainder of the race. It sucked, too, because I seemed to have the better of the two guys right in front of me and 7th place had come back to all of us, ending up just one second from our battle for 8th at the chequered flag. I was right on Toye's ass when I nearly crashed.... the first time.

 

Two laps to go, for fooks sake..

 

I tried to feather the clutch lever trailing into all the same types of high lean angle corners as the first problematic one, but the bike was having none of it. Four more times, the bike was all the way over on its side and after all the engine braking was done, mid corner, the rear wheel would lock up. It felt as if the slipper clutch, the same old crotchety friend that was giving us fits all day, had decided if he couldn't stop our forward progress by slipping himself forward, he might as well stop us by not slipping backwards. Go figure.

 

A slipper clutch, mom and dad, allows the rider to drop multiple downshifts controllably into a corner without the rear wheel totally locking up as the bike is leaned over. Back in the old days the riders would modulate the slip of the last downshift manually with their own left fingers, some riders still preferring this method to this day. But, a well working slipper clutch is def the way to go for outright lap times, I believe. They are adjustable, too, for the amount of slip each rider favors. Our bike's slipper at Macau this year was set up perfect, FYI.

 

So, I tried slipping my last downshifts manually at the lever but it seemed that well after I had 'asked' the clutch to be completely engaged, with the lever all the way out, AFTER this moment the clutch, with the bike at full lean, would slip mid-corner then reengage slowing the rear wheel down drastically. I couldn't work around the system like I wanted to. Having the engine idle lower than normal for my liking didn't help much either. But, the lower RPMs mid-corner helps slow the bikes down around the many bumpy decreasing radius and ultra-tight hairpins.

 

I tried and I tried to make something work in the last three laps but no matter what I did I kept being violently shot out of the seat when I least expected it. I came so close to crashing I think if I was forced to do even one more lap I would have pulled off the track. The final lap I was braking into the corners straight up and down all the way into the corner, park it nearly to a stop, turn the bike, then shoot out of the corner straight as an arrow. I even tried one last time to gently feather it into one of the final corners when BAM!, another seriously close call with mere yards to go for the finish line. My throat was in my stomach and I was scared.

 

I lost two positions on the final lap of the race and came home 12th. Oh well.

 

I couldn't help feeling somewhat happy and lucky that we actually made it to the end of the race. How the clutch came back after a lap or two of slipping was new to me, they usually start to overheat then just keep slipping and overheating more and more until they don't work at all. We tried to make the show anyway and it worked.

 

During the race, I was able to better my best ever lap time around Macau by a second. The Dunlops worked great, the new Joe Rocket Leathers and helmet fit great, and my Sidi Boots were as comfortable as ever. Thank you guys for making quality products.

 

All week most in the racing circus seemed pretty good with their level of drink intake and rest. Saturday night following the race, however, got stupid. Everyone in the paddock - all the racers, the mechanics, the team owners - I think seemed to just feel what we all just got away with.... racing 200hp+ Superbikes on a city's public roads.... and, it was legal. Bah, ha ha ha ha, who is allowing this to happen? Everyone got smashed Saturday and Sunday night. So fun. Couldn't walk back to the hotel, not that I remember.. Thanks Stephen, The Mischief-Maker, for all your on-track and on-the-town nightlife activities, mate. :)

 

Two crashes on the track this year and no serious injuries. Thank you Universe.

 

Also, thank you Henry for bringing me over again, had a good time with you buddy, as always. Thank you Veronique for riding so well. But, most of all, thanks Barry Gilsenan and William Myers for bringing your terrific Celtic Racing Suzuki halfway across the world for us to race. DMG spec, or not, the thing is sick sick sick. So fast. Cheers fellas, and kick some ass in 2010.

 

It was also cool seeing you David Sadowski in the pits this year.. good luck with your gig in China, dude.

 

I'll try and send a couple hi-res pics tomorrow for those of you who need them. Attached are a couple pics I've been given thus far, if you're interested. Thanks for all your emails, I'll try and answer all of them individually soon.

 

Big hug, Mark

 

photographer: Jylls Photography

location: Okinawa (Southern island in Japan)

 

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Being tagged by Smileywt for “16 things about me”…..!

erm….there’s nothing much special about me but….it’s from my friend....I’ve gotta do it =D

so here it goes…

 

1)Loving ancient Egypt stuffs since 6.

Back then, my dream was to lie beside an Egyptian mummy….hohoho

 

2)I’m 153cm, smallest in my family. …..tiny tiny….. :P

 

3)I have a deep line at the back of my neck since most of the time I have to look up to talk to people since I’m small…. XuX

 

4)I’m crazy about dogs and I’m ignoring my dog allergy =))

 

5)I’m scared of height. See through stairs are one of the MOST dangerous thing human builds! (> n <)

 

6)I love the sound of the leaves, sound of the waves, and the humming of my grandparents.

 

7)Till high school, I couldn’t decide if I should become an archeologist, actress, restorer, or UN staff. Still haven’t decided but I’m really enjoying Media Study(Media Literacy) right now at Uni.

 

8)Got to visit Cairo Museum and walk around all the remains in Egypt before I die!!

 

9)I love the meaning of my name’s Kanji (Chinese character) and the reason why my grandpa chose it.

 

10)Began modeling last September, I’m very much enjoying especially conceptual photo shoot and one of my biggest dream in modeling is to do an underwater shoot someday. if possible =) hehe

 

11)I jump 365days no matter how sick I may be, to grow a liiittle bit more taller

 

12)I can’t stand seeing my friends cheating, lying, or doing anything that may cause trouble to the others.

 

13)I am sometimes very Japanese and sometimes very un-Japanese.

 

14)I’m stubborn.

 

15)When having a fever, I wear red Elmo t-shirt + Stitch (from Lilo and Stitch) pajama and put on a hood ( which is Stitch’s face) when in bed.

 

16)I’m very very very lucky to be surrounded and keep on bumping in to wonderful beautiful people. (# ’u’ #) yes, I’m shy but I looooove people <3

 

......OH!!!

17) i love the colour Blue!! and anything that has something to do with water ;)) hehe

 

Aahhhhhhh.....

 

Life is good right now. My past is just that, my past. My future is bright and promising. All that pain, all that fear, all that turmoil and uncertainty is gone and you know what's left? This is what's left. A new beginning. A new love, a new passion. A new LIFE. Yes, a life. A real one too that involves friends, family, love, laughter, and everything that life is supposed to include. And Happiness. I'm involved in my music, my photography, back in church, i'm recording my music, my OWN music that I've written with the help of this sweet soul pictured here. I can't describe to you what it feels like to have something you've written recorded down to something that sounds like real music. Just gotta get my vocals in there and it'll be done and I'm super stoked about that!!

 

Of course, having someone in my life to share these things with makes it that much more amazing too and having someone who adores me as much as this man does...well...lets just say I've never experienced anything like this before in my life. I've never been adored. I've never had someone who wanted to do anything and everything to make me happy. But, funny thing is, this IS all I need to be happy, just what you see here.

 

I can't thank you all enough again for your support and your patience through the past few months. I know I've fallen behind on your photos and I apologize for that. I do look at them, I just may not be able to comment quite as much. But thank you to all of you who continue to stop by here and be a friend and offer words of encouragement. You all helped me get through a rough time in my life and I thank each and every one of you for that.

 

And to my Honey, I thank you for making me feel complete and whole inside.

 

Hugs!!!

This is much better big on black - click the link at the end to see!

 

Still working with my new 50mm lens, I love it and never want to be apart from it. Although I still want to add a new gizmo to my box of tricks, namely an external flash. I feel like it's the missing link. Still, I have plenty enough to learn so maybe it's a good thing that I don't have a flash right now.

 

This is one of the (many) shots I've done where I started out with no ideas whatsoever and this just . . . happened. I sort of had the idea to include the clock in the shot as I was setting up - after all, when I started my 365 it was all about documenting me leaving my twenties behind and entering the thirty zone. So time was always going to be a theme to explore.

 

The passing of time is something I think about a lot. I'm quite contradictory about it, I suppose a lot of people are, in terms of wishing the working week away and focusing on the next weekend or holiday that's coming up. And while I'm busy doing that the weeks, months and years are dropping away more and more quickly.

 

I'm terrified of getting old. I'm worried about the things I'll have to give up because the mind is willing but the body's no longer capable or vice-versa, which probably terrifies me more. I'm mortified at the thought that I might not be able to look after myself one day. And all this is stuff I think about a lot of the time. It's a dumb thing to get hung up about really, I should be enjoying today instead of thinking ahead to what may or may not be. But no matter how hard I try to ignore it, that clock keeps ticking.

 

Maybe that's why photography has become so fascinating to me, it gives me the ability to freeze a moment in time.

 

I got this shot with the 50mm, as mentioned earlier. I ramped up the exposure quite a lot and used a preset in Lightroom to get the basic picture how I wanted it. The texture (by billionstrang) and TTV border were Photoshopped in, and then I erased the layers over the clock to bring out the white face, blurring the edges where I erased to make them less obvious. I used a bit of dodging on my face to lighten it a bit and erased the layers and used the dodge tool over my eye to give it a bit of sparkle.

 

The title is from Time by Pink Floyd. An obvious choice but fitting.

 

Tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . tock

The world is a hungry place and it's never satisfied

You're leaving home, on the run, your mama, she was right

Home was a crowded space but it sometimes gratified

Look around, freedom found, now you've gone

 

you don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you know

Your life is a precious thing, you can never be denied

 

You need a job, a place to live, you couldn't help but try

Home was a crowded place and it sometimes satisfied

Turn around, freedom found, now you've gone

 

Baby, turn back, don't ride the highway

Baby, good luck when you do it your way

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

I don't belong to you, it's only an ocean away

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

 

When there's nothing in your way and all of it burns inside

Reaching out on your own, reaching out, you're reaching out on your own

 

Lust is a hungry place and it's never satisfied

You need to find the gift of love that comes from deep inside

Your heart is a special place and you're always there, I'm always there for you

 

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you know

I don't belong to you, it's only an ocean away

You don't belong to me, I've just gotta let you go

 

Baby, turn back, don't ride the highway

Baby, good luck when you do it your way

-inxs

 

(you know exactly who this is dedicated to)

Miss Violet facing her interviewers, Myrtil, Jimmy, Petra, Becky, Emma and Zaida.

 

The urchins decided they wanted to hire a grown-up to deal with things they wanted done but couldn't do themselves, because of their child condition.

 

The interview for Miss Violet Solano was to be set inside the old Imperial Theatre, across from Loki’s Absinthe Café in Babbage Square, to avoid the whole process of blindfolding her before leading her to the hideout.

Becky, Jimmy and Myrtil arrived three minutes before the set time of the interview. Miss Solano was waiting for them, sitting in the front row.

 

[15:27] Myrtil Igaly: 'ello Miss Vi! You are early!

[15:27] VI : good afternoon Jimmy, Myrtil and Becky

[15:27] Jimmy Branagh: Hoy Miss Vi!

[15:27] Becky Blackcinder: Hullo ma'am!

[15:27] Myrtil Igaly: Good afternoon to you too and thank you for coming

[15:28] VI : so do you wish to interview me here? Or up in your rooms in the attic?

[15:28] Myrtil Igaly: Oh, so you know about those...

[15:28] VI : there is little I miss in this town

[15:28] Becky Blackcinder: I was gonna say, I thought that was a secret! But it's not that hard to find if you look.

[15:29] VI : not if you’re used to using the high road

[15:29] Myrtil Igaly: I had set up the interview here cause our hideout was to be kept a secret but if you know about it heh

[15:29] Becky Blackcinder: Observant is good.

[15:29] Myrtil Igaly: will be quieter up there

[15:29] Myrtil Igaly: Please lead the way!

[15:29] Myrtil Igaly grins

 

All four then took the dangerous way from the Imperial to the hideout and, once there, settled at the long table. Petra was already there, waiting for them.

 

[15:32] Myrtil Igaly: Hey Petra!

[15:32] Jimmy Branagh: Hoy Petra

[15:32] VI : very nice really reminds of the one you had in the gut

[15:32] Petra Flax : Hello!

[15:32] Myrtil Igaly: I don't actually remember that one!

[15:32] Myrtil Igaly: But thank you

[15:33] Petra Flax : The one in the gut?

[15:33] VI : hello petra

[15:33] Myrtil Igaly: Alright, so first of all thank you for coming to be interviewed, I know you are a very busy lady.

[15:34] VI : i have my moments of peace

[15:34] Myrtil Igaly: From your note, I gather you understand what we are looking for.

[15:34] Petra Flax lights her pipe

[15:34] Myrtil Igaly: And we will be asking you questions in turn to decide if you would be fit for the job.

[15:34] VI : yes a go between to work with the adults

[15:34] Myrtil Igaly nods

[15:35] Myrtil Igaly: So, if you are ready, I will start.

[15:35] VI : ask away

[15:35] Jimmy Branagh pulls out the notebook, rips a page off and hands to Myrtil

[15:35] Myrtil Igaly grins. "Thanks Jimmy!"

[15:35] Jimmy Branagh then hands blank pages to Petra and Becky

[15:35] Becky Blackcinder peers over the tops of her spectacles, trying to look interrogative.

[15:36] Myrtil Igaly glances seriously at Miss Solano

[15:36] Jimmy Branagh: Welcome!

[15:36] Myrtil Igaly: Miss Violet.

[15:36] Myrtil Igaly: In the note I sent you to ask you to come for an interview, I mentioned that I wanted an information from you, as a show of good will.

[15:37] VI : of course

[15:37] Myrtil Igaly: That would be the name of the urchin from whom you learnt about those interviews.

[15:37] Myrtil Igaly: Could you please provide us with their name?

[15:38] Jimmy Branagh waits, charcoal stick at the ready

[15:38] Myrtil Igaly raises an eyebrow, waiting for the reply

[15:38] VI : I would if I could. But it was Omig who told me about it and he got it from one of our ...... employees, but I’ll look into it

[15:38] Myrtil Igaly nods. "Thank you, that would be most appreciated."

[15:39] Jimmy Branagh scribbles

 

Emma arrived, running inside and a little short-breathed.

 

[15:39] Myrtil Igaly: Hey Emma! Glad you could make it!

[15:39] VI : hello emma

[15:39] Jimmy Branagh: Hoy Emma

[15:39] Emma Walsh : Hello

[15:39] Myrtil Igaly taps on Jimmy's shoulder. "Your turn, Jimmy."

[15:39] Jimmy Branagh: Awlroight.

[15:40] Jimmy Branagh: Miss VI, ifn we wos awl at a hoity-toity party, an' th' host offered us urchins Wiggyfish gruel, an' you 'ad a big stick in yer hand, wot would ya do?

[15:40] Myrtil Igaly grins

[15:40] Becky Blackcinder stifles a giggle.

[15:40] VI : that would depend

[15:41] Jimmy Branagh raises an eyebrow ominously

[15:41] VI : were you invited?

[15:41] Jimmy Branagh: Let's say we wos.

[15:41] Myrtil Igaly studies Miss Solano closely

[15:41] VI : than i would complain to our host about his ill treatment of you

[15:42] Jimmy Branagh: Awlroight.

[15:42] Myrtil Igaly nods with a smile

[15:42] Jimmy Branagh: Now let's say we wosn't invoighted

[15:42] Jimmy Branagh: Wot would ya do?

[15:42] VI : attacking him would not improve your, or my reputation with the people you wish to deal with

[15:43] Myrtil Igaly scribbles

[15:43] Jimmy Branagh: Thet wosn't th' question

[15:43] Jimmy Branagh: Wot would ya do?

[15:43] VI : i would offer to pay the host for better food for you

[15:43] Jimmy Branagh: Awlroight.

[15:43] Jimmy Branagh scribbles

[15:43] Jimmy Branagh: Petra?

[15:43] Becky Blackcinder scribbles too, although she might just be doodling.

[15:44] Emma Walsh doesn't have a paper again...

[15:44] Petra Flax : My turn?

[15:44] Jimmy Branagh makes a paper airship and sails it to Emma

[15:44] Myrtil Igaly: Yes Petra, we're asking questions in turn to Miss Violet

[15:44] Myrtil Igaly: But we can skip you for this round if you don't know!

[15:45] Petra Flax : Well my big question is pretty practical. Alligaters

[15:45] Emma Walsh gets her paper and starts drawing Miss Vi as a stick figure rabbit

[15:45] Myrtil Igaly: Oh

[15:45] Jimmy Branagh looks at Petra

[15:45] Myrtil Igaly leans on the table to take a better glance at Petra

[15:45] Petra Flax : How would you deal with a plague of alligators?

[15:45] Jimmy Branagh: Oh okay ....

[15:46] VI : Alligaters?

[15:46] Becky Blackcinder is also doodling.

[15:46] Myrtil Igaly turns to Miss Vi

[15:46] VI : really?

[15:46] Jimmy Branagh: Aligaters in th' sewers mybee

[15:46] Myrtil Igaly: Anything could happen in New Babbage!

[15:47] Emma Walsh : We had clockwork hippos attack once....

[15:47] Petra Flax : Yep… its happened before in other cities…

[15:47] Jimmy Branagh: Yesh

[15:47] VI : well that i think is a matter for public works not public relations

[15:47] Jimmy Branagh: They wos 'orrible

[15:47] Jimmy Branagh: It wos loike Attack of th' Popplefots

[15:47] Jimmy Branagh laughs

[15:48] Myrtil Igaly scribbles a few words and glances interrogatively at Petra

[15:48] VI : i could go to the city and complain

[15:48] Petra Flax pretends to write

[15:48] VI : but not much else

[15:48] Becky Blackcinder: You made that up!

[15:48] Becky Blackcinder: Popplefots I mean.

 

And finally the last urchin interviewer, Zaida, arrived.

 

[15:48] Myrtil Igaly: Hey Zaida!

[15:48] Jimmy Branagh: Hoy Zaida

[15:48] Myrtil Igaly: You're lucky Miss Violet, lots of interviewers for you!

[15:48] Jimmy Branagh sails a piece of paper to Zaida

[15:48] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): hi jim

[15:48] VI : hello Zaida

[15:48] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): hi miz vi!

[15:48] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): me an' miz vi used to be neighbors in wheatstone waterways

[15:48] VI : yes

[15:49] Myrtil Igaly: Alright, try to stay unbiased Zaida!

[15:49] Jimmy Branagh: Nah, Popplefot runs the shoe black factory!

[15:49] Jimmy Branagh: 'ee's fat loike a hippo!

[15:49] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) looks for the piece of paper

[15:49] Myrtil Igaly: Are you satisfied with the answer Petra?

[15:50] Petra Flax : Not really no

[15:50] Myrtil Igaly: Oh

[15:50] Petra Flax : but if that's her answer...

[15:50] Petra Flax : heh

[15:50] VI : i am not exactly a slayer of Alligators

[15:50] Jimmy Branagh: Awlrought then. Becky

[15:50] Myrtil Igaly: Well, we'll discuss about that later, let's hear Becky's question

[15:51] Becky Blackcinder: Hmmmm...

[15:51] Jimmy Branagh scribbles note, adding odd cryptic symbols

[15:51] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): i gots a question

[15:51] Jimmy Branagh: Wait yer turn

[15:51] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) sticks tongue out

[15:51] Myrtil Igaly me giggles

[15:51] Petra Flax snickers

[15:51] Jimmy Branagh chuckles

[15:51] Becky Blackcinder: You knew about the hideout. Which is pretty gear. So...d'you know anything else about the city that could be useful to somebody like me? An' will you tell it to us?

[15:52] Myrtil Igaly nods and turns to Miss Violet, interested

[15:52] Petra Flax scribbles loops, impressed that they actually look like writing

[15:53] VI : wouldn't that be beyond the scope of the proffered position?

[15:53] Myrtil Igaly takes a glance at the other urchins' papers and looks impressed at all the writing on there

[15:53] Emma Walsh draws some stick figure alligators underneath Vi and points arrows saying 'not alligator slayer'

[15:53] Jimmy Branagh shrugs

[15:53] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) doodles a bunny with an arrow through its head

[15:53] VI : would be willing to make a full exchange of information?

[15:53] Myrtil Igaly: Yes that's not demanded for the position, but we're not against a few extras!

[15:54] Jimmy Branagh: We're jus' pickin' yer brain, Miss VI. It's perfectly safe!

[15:54] Becky Blackcinder has apparently done the following doodle of Vi:

www.flickr.com/photos/annalisa_shepherd/23449967259/in/da...

[15:54] Petra Flax relights her pipe, looking down at her page, and then to the pages of the others.

[15:54] Becky Blackcinder looks proud

[15:55] Myrtil Igaly: There's no right or wrong answer, Miss Violet, we'll discuss later and decide. We may not even agree with each other ya know

[15:55] VI : true

[15:55] Becky Blackcinder: 'S true. Urchins ain't all that organized.

[15:55] Myrtil Igaly: Your turn Emma!

[15:55] Emma Walsh : Okay, this one should be easy.

[15:56] VI : more here than most

[15:56] Myrtil Igaly smiles at the compliment

[15:56] Emma Walsh : If you weren't a bunny what animal would you be instead? Your inner not bunny?

[15:56] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) rolls eyes and shakes head

[15:56] Myrtil Igaly smirks

[15:57] Becky Blackcinder giggles.

 

Miss Solano stood up abruptly.

 

[15:57] VI : well i think we're at an end here

[15:57] Myrtil Igaly looks surprised

[15:57] Becky Blackcinder blinks.

[15:57] Myrtil Igaly: Are we?

[15:57] Jimmy Branagh: Hmm?

[15:57] Petra Flax raises her eyebrows

[15:57] Myrtil Igaly: What do you mean Miss Violet?

[15:57] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): miz vi don't want to work for us?

[15:57] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) offers miz vi a cookie

[15:57] VI : there is nothing better for me to be than a rabbit

[15:58] Myrtil Igaly: Oh

[15:58] Myrtil Igaly: Please don't be offended by the question, it was very innocent.

[15:58] Petra Flax : touch-eeeee

[15:58] Myrtil Igaly: Shhhh Petra!

[15:58] VI : to say other wise is preposterous, and rude

[15:58] Becky Blackcinder: I wish I was somethin' besides a human sometimes.

[15:58] Petra Flax snaps her mouth shut

[15:58] Becky Blackcinder: An' I do know a surprising number of mad scientists, so...

[15:59] VI : very well

 

Miss Solano sat back on the bench, facing the urchins.

 

[15:59] Myrtil Igaly: Very true Miss Violet, please forgive us for even thinking you would think otherwise

[15:59] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): this is babbage knowing a mad scientist or 10 isn't surprising

[15:59] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): if i could be a animal i'd be daisy my dog

[15:59] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): then i could lay around in my bed all day

[15:59] Myrtil Igaly whispers to the others. "Ok, avoid the bunny questions!"

[15:59] Petra Flax nods

[15:59] VI : i suppose it would be a badger

[16:00] Myrtil Igaly blinks

[16:00] Emma Walsh : Badgers are awful buggers...

[16:00] Petra Flax : Badgers are pretty great

[16:00] Jimmy Branagh: Okay Zaida?

[16:00] Myrtil Igaly: They're fierce for sure

[16:00] Becky Blackcinder: Opinion is divided on badgers!

[16:00] VI : the ruling family of my home land are badger

[16:01] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): miz vi - you a boss lady outside of hear, an' you sometimes employ urchins to carry messages an' packages..... how are you goin' to feel about havin' urchins bossin' you instead of you bossin' us

[16:01] Petra Flax : Good question.

[16:01] Myrtil Igaly hides a smile and dives onto her piece of paper, pencil at the ready

[16:02] VI : well that would depend on whether the orders are in conflict with my business

[16:02] Myrtil Igaly nods slowly

[16:03] Myrtil Igaly: Which would come first in that case?

[16:03] VI : that would depend on your requested action

[16:03] VI : it it was not within the scope of the job your offering

[16:04] VI : i would decline

[16:04] Myrtil Igaly: Understood

[16:04] VI : for example

[16:04] Petra Flax : What’s decline mean?

[16:04] VI : if you asked me to talk to tenk about something fine

[16:05] Myrtil Igaly whispers : that she says "no"

[16:05] VI : if you asked me to kill tenk

[16:05] Petra Flax : Oh

[16:05] VI : well that’s different

[16:05] Myrtil Igaly: Oh of course

[16:05] Petra Flax : Well jeez lady

[16:05] Myrtil Igaly: That wouldn't be something we would ask you to do.

[16:06] VI : of course not

[16:06] Myrtil Igaly: We merely need someone to represent us to deal with other grown-ups

[16:06] Myrtil Igaly: without those grown-ups knowing they're actually dealing with urchins

[16:06] Petra Flax : I mean beat in a sack with a hammer, maybe... but kill is kinda extreme

[16:06] Petra Flax : And what Myrtil said

[16:06] Myrtil Igaly rolls her eyes at Petra

[16:06] VI : and in that capacity i would

[16:06] Myrtil Igaly nods

[16:07] Myrtil Igaly: Here's my second question then.

[16:07] Petra Flax readies her pencil

[16:08] Myrtil Igaly: If you were working for us and we asked you to go talk to Miss Book and get an information about some secret Militia documents. How would you do it?

[16:08] VI : with great difficulty

[16:08] Myrtil Igaly laughs

[16:08] VI : we are not on the best of terms

[16:09] Myrtil Igaly: That's why I asked this question

[16:09] Myrtil Igaly smiles

[16:09] Myrtil Igaly starts drawing circles on her paper

[16:10] VI : and as to getting the information by less than honest means

[16:10] VI : your urchins are as capable as me in that regard

[16:11] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) whispers: she paid me a whole dollar to stand around and yell HELLO MIZ BOOK if i seen her once

[16:11] Jimmy Branagh chuckles

[16:11] Myrtil Igaly: Maybe, but I would like to know how you would do it as an indication of what you would be able to do to deal with difficult missions

[16:11] Petra Flax : Depends on the urchin. Tubby ain’t much good at nothin.

[16:12] Jimmy Branagh: 'ee's good at eatin'. Everythin'!

[16:12] Petra Flax : And it was probably him that spilled the beans about this gig

[16:12] Petra Flax : Good point Jimmy.

[16:12] Myrtil Igaly: Tubby you think?

[16:13] Petra Flax nods

[16:13] VI : i would send one of my employees to retrieve the information

[16:13] Myrtil Igaly nods and scribbles

[16:13] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): i ain't seen tubby in a long time. i thought creaky got him

[16:14] Jimmy Branagh scribbles

[16:14] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) whispers: she'd pay an urchin to do it

[16:14] Petra Flax : That’d keep him fed for a while.

[16:14] VI : sadly the man that would be best at that retrieval is no longer available

[16:14] Jimmy Branagh: Finished, Myrtil?

[16:14] Myrtil Igaly: Yup, go ahead

[16:15] Jimmy Branagh: Miss VI, wos you in Babbage when the Dark Aether fell?

[16:15] VI : no

[16:15] Jimmy Branagh: Awlroight. Never moind then. Petra?

[16:15] Myrtil Igaly chuckles

[16:15] Jimmy Branagh scribbles

[16:16] Petra Flax : Well, I guess it’s no secret you’re sort villainy type… what sorta guarantee can we have that you won’t just lie about all this and do something that is to our detri- detrimu- uh… is bad for us?

[16:17] Petra Flax draws out a hangman, then fills in all the spaces with Xs

[16:17] Myrtil Igaly squints at Miss Violet, waiting for her reply

[16:17] VI : hmmmmmm

[16:17] VI : well that’s the rub isn't it

[16:18] Myrtil Igaly: We could write something about it in the contract, but the question is, do you respect contracts...

[16:18] Petra Flax : The rub?

[16:18] VI : since you consider me a villain, would you trust any promises i made anyway

[16:18] Petra Flax : Like for ribs?

[16:18] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): maybe she wants her ears rubbed?

[16:18] Myrtil Igaly smiles at Zaida

[16:19] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): gilly like him ears scratched

[16:19] Becky Blackcinder: I've known some trustworthy villians an' some good guys who lie a lot.

[16:19] Myrtil Igaly: That was a good question Petra. This is to take into consideration but it could go both directions anyway

[16:19] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) nods in agreement with Becky

[16:19] VI : like that counterfeit count?

[16:19] Myrtil Igaly: Heh

[16:19] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): doc O was a villain but him would keep him promises

[16:20] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): 'course him usually promised to do bad things

[16:20] Petra Flax : Baloney? He's crackers.

[16:20] Myrtil Igaly: He is, but who isn't in this town?

[16:20] VI : i am a business woman and i hold to contracts

[16:20] Myrtil Igaly: Oh, that's good to know!

[16:20] Myrtil Igaly scribbles

[16:21] Petra Flax pretends to write again, nodding.

[16:21] Myrtil Igaly: Becky, another question?

[16:21] Emma Walsh draws a piece of paper in Vi's hands

[16:21] Becky Blackcinder hmmms. "Okay..."

[16:21] Myrtil Igaly: That's if you have one

[16:21] Myrtil Igaly: not mandatory

[16:21] Becky Blackcinder: Why d'you wanna work for us? What do you like about us? Or is it just a business thing?

[16:21] Jimmy Branagh: Let's move along folks! Get snappy!

[16:22] VI : mostly?

[16:22] Myrtil Igaly nods and turns her head towards Miss violet

[16:22] VI : because it benefits both of us

[16:23] Myrtil Igaly: The question would then be, how does it benefit you?

[16:23] VI : you get someone who can deal with the adults

[16:23] Myrtil Igaly: Right

[16:24] VI : and i get an alliance with the biggest information gathering force in the city

[16:24] Myrtil Igaly: Oh I see * grins*

[16:24] Myrtil Igaly scribbles

[16:25] Jimmy Branagh: Emma

[16:25] Petra Flax nudges Becky to nudge Emma

[16:25] Jimmy Branagh: EMMA!

[16:25] Emma Walsh : Do you have any credi.....proof of your expertise? Things that the adults look for in this town fer respect.

[16:26] Myrtil Igaly glances at Emma

[16:26] Becky Blackcinder scribbles some stuff down.

[16:27] VI : i have a successful business, i have money, i have made considerable donations to the fire brigade, and the militia

[16:27] Myrtil Igaly looks up, wide-eyed

[16:28] Emma Walsh : Errr....I guess that means you look good on paper!

[16:28] VI : yes

[16:28] Emma Walsh guesses that's the right saying and starts doodling dollar signs under her

[16:29] VI : and i helped with the recent Prometheus incident

[16:29] Jimmy Branagh: Zaida has the final question

[16:29] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): you gave money to the militia even though miz book don't like you?

[16:29] Jimmy Branagh scribbles

[16:29] Myrtil Igaly scribbles too and starts to regret drawing circles as she's running out of space

[16:30] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): ummmmm---- i guess that was my question

[16:30] VI : yes to give to the widows and orphans left by the Militia men that were murdered

[16:30] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): oh ok

[16:30] Emma Walsh : Ohhhhh...

[16:30] Petra Flax : Huh.

[16:30] VI : i think she declined to pass it on

[16:30] Myrtil Igaly: That was your question Zaida?

[16:31] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): how will you represent us as our embassador

[16:31] VI : well really that depends on what you have in mind

[16:32] VI : have you fully considered what you wish me to do?

[16:32] Petra Flax : Imagine a suit of armor filled with kids

[16:32] Myrtil Igaly starts to wonder what they got themselves into

[16:32] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): i mean in helping us with our urchin grow'd up relations

[16:33] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): we need a urchin grow'd ups relations office

[16:33] Myrtil Igaly: Yes, that's what we need, except secret one, not official

[16:33] VI : but are you expecting a person to foster better relations with the adults?

[16:33] VI : or just a bigger urchin?

[16:34] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): isn't that what a embassador does?

[16:34] Jimmy Branagh: You would be representin' our interests.

[16:34] Petra Flax blinks

[16:34] Myrtil Igaly: To deal with adults who don't want to have nothing to do with us

[16:34] Myrtil Igaly: Have them think they're dealing with you except they're dealing with us

[16:35] Petra Flax : Yeah

[16:35] Jimmy Branagh: We figger 'avin' a representative would be better'n burnin' the' city down

[16:35] Myrtil Igaly chuckles

[16:35] VI : and that’s the thing, for me to do that job i'd need to show a proper front

[16:35] VI : so no activity's that could be seen as dishonest

[16:36] Myrtil Igaly: I s'pose we could be having business with both honest and dishonest grown-ups

[16:36] VI : you need what amounts to a business manager

[16:36] Myrtil Igaly: Hmmm

[16:37] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) starts day dreaming about the new buffet at brunel as her tummy rumbles

[16:37] Myrtil Igaly: We're the business managers. What we need is someone willing to do what we tell them to do but also be crafty enough to find how to get the high hand in deals with other people

[16:38] Jimmy Branagh nods

[16:38] Petra Flax nods

[16:38] VI : in short a business manager

[16:38] VI : someone to manage your business with others

[16:39] Myrtil Igaly: Well yes, can call it like that.

[16:38] Myrtil Igaly looks at the other urchins. "Does anyone have another question?"

[16:39] Emma Walsh : Err...no...but I have one for you Myrt when we're done...

[16:39] Myrtil Igaly nods to Emma

[16:38] Petra Flax : Yeah, I got one more… gonna seem silly, but I got my reasons fed asking it. Ok… what’s yer favorite thing about Mayor Tenk?

[16:39] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): is likin' tenk a job requirement?

[16:39] Petra Flax : Nope.

[16:39] Myrtil Igaly: won't be in the contract, but Petra has her reasons

[16:39] Petra Flax : Just a question.

[16:39] VI : my favorite thing about tenk

[16:39] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): my favorite thing about tenk is him don't take no bullpoo

[16:40] VI : he stays out of other people’s business

[16:40] Myrtil Igaly smirks

[16:40] Petra Flax : Not you Zaida, Miss Vi

[16:40] Petra Flax : And thank you

[16:40] Becky Blackcinder: I like how he's not taller'n me.

[16:40] Myrtil Igaly giggles

[16:40] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): imma shorter dan mr. tenk

[16:41] Myrtil Igaly: It's cause you're a shrimp Zaida!

[16:41] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) makes rude gesture at myrtil

[16:40] Myrtil Igaly nods. "Thank you Miss Violet. Now would YOU have questions for us?"

[16:41] VI : well i do wonder if you have thought this position through?

[16:41] Myrtil Igaly: Oh yes, are you concerned about it Miss violet?

[16:41] VI : if you know what you need, over what you think you want

[16:42] Myrtil Igaly: We've talked about it, and will talk some more after the interviews. We'll decide as a group so there's always gonna be someone to say if they don't agree and why

[16:43] Jimmy Branagh writes more, and the number 423 next to it

[16:43] Myrtil Igaly: Which will make us think more and more until it's all good

[16:43] VI : if you hire a Representative to deal with the adults they will need to be very public

[16:43] Myrtil Igaly: Not necessarily.

[16:44] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): we could hire two people

[16:44] Myrtil Igaly: Just have to look respectable enough or know how to make themselves look that way

[16:44] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): someone to be our public face an' someone to be sneaky

[16:44] VI : no they will need to be public any interaction will become known

[16:44] Myrtil Igaly: And yes, we can also do that Zaida

[16:44] Petra Flax : That’s true

[16:45] VI : the action may not be seen to be connected to you but it will be seen by someone

[16:45] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) looks confused

[16:45] Myrtil Igaly: Maybe what we would need is a few agents, or a master of disguise

[16:46] Myrtil Igaly: Or someone who can stay veeery discreet

[16:46] Petra Flax : I think she means the Great Builder....

[16:46] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): can we hire miz book?

[16:46] Myrtil Igaly raises an eyebrow at Petra

[16:46] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): nobody would ever suspect her

[16:46] Myrtil Igaly: Noooo Zaida, she'd never agree

[16:46] VI : take the Count i can see him bragging about every sneaky thing he does for you

[16:46] Emma Walsh laughs

[16:47] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox): yeah her all noble an' shi--stuff

[16:47] Myrtil Igaly: Well that's for us to judge Miss Violet.

[16:47] VI : as you wish

[16:47] Jimmy Branagh: We need a person capable of bein' both public, an' subtley behoind the scenes. Our shadow hand, as it were.

[16:47] Myrtil Igaly: I understand your concern and thank you for worrying, but we'll manage.

[16:47] Myrtil Igaly smiles

[16:48] Myrtil Igaly: Well I guess we're done if it's good for everyone?

[16:48] Zaida Gearbox (zaida.gearbox) whispers, "i think her right about the Count. him not rowin' wid both oars..."

[16:48] Becky Blackcinder smiles and nodnods.

[16:48] Jimmy Branagh nods

[16:48] Jimmy Branagh: Pass yer papers in please

[16:48] Petra Flax : Yep

[16:48] Emma Walsh : Well with Miss Vi yeah

[16:48] Myrtil Igaly: Miss Violet, thank you again for your time!

[16:48] Jimmy Branagh: Thenks Miss VI

[16:48] Jimmy Branagh smiles

[16:48] Myrtil Igaly: We will let you know our decision after we've made it.

[16:48] Emma Walsh : But need ter talk to you about Mr. Hyde.

[16:48] VI : you’re welcome

[16:48] Becky Blackcinder hands Jimmy her notes, which are mainly doodles.

[16:48] VI : but think well on what you really need

[16:48] Myrtil Igaly nods

[16:48] Myrtil Igaly: We will.

[16:49] Jimmy Branagh collects the sheet, wads them in the notebook and shoves the notebook into his coat

[16:49] Myrtil Igaly: Do you need to be walked back outside?

[16:49] VI : i think i can find my way

[16:49] Myrtil Igaly: Alright! Take care!

[16:49] Jimmy Branagh: 'Ave a good evenin' Miss!

[16: 49] VI : stands on the boards and waves and the men hiding on the roofs move off

[16: 49] Jimmy Branagh whistles, signalling the armed urchins watching from hidden position to stand down

[16:49] Emma Walsh : Hyde blabbed.

[16:49] Myrtil Igaly: Hyde?

[16:50] Emma Walsh : Mr. Hyde

[16:50] Emma Walsh : When we had our big meeting

[16:50] Becky Blackcinder: He would, wouldn't he?

[16:50] Emma Walsh : Discussing Creaky

[16:50] Emma Walsh : And the interviews

[16:50] Emma Walsh : He wasn't sworn to secrecy

[16:50] Myrtil Igaly: Oh yes, he totally would

[16:50] Myrtil Igaly: Dang it

[16:51] Emma Walsh : So he probably told his friends, who told everyone

[16:51] Myrtil Igaly: We gotta have a little chat with Mister Hyde...

[16:51] Becky Blackcinder: He has friends?

[16:51] Myrtil Igaly: hehe

[16:51] Emma Walsh : Err....must have some runnin mates

[16:51] Becky Blackcinder: I mostly only see him when he's passed out on Dr. Jekyll's couch.

[16:52] Myrtil Igaly: Yes not sure he's got many friends

[16:52] Emma Walsh : He's got enough drinking buddies

[16:53] Emma Walsh : And he was sharing some stuff when I stopped by the other night.

[16:53] Myrtil Igaly: Hah!

[16:53] Myrtil Igaly: you're probably right Emma

[16:54] Myrtil Igaly: and if that's him, we need to talk with him, for one, and never to allow him to our secret meetings anymore again

[16:54] Emma Walsh nods

 

And thus ended the third interview the urchins held to find a “grown-up ambassador”.

 

Aiden just helped MacCready get the serum to save his son. MacCready relates how he feels by telling Aiden something about his past. I thought it might be a way to tie in my character from FO3 and FONV into MacCready's background.

 

MacCready: I'm a bit lost here...Not sure what to say. It's been so long since I've had a real friend I've forgotten how to be a friend. You helped me save my son and I can't repay that.

 

Aiden: You worry too much, and you don't owe me anything...that's what friends do for each other.

 

MacCready: (sips his beer) I've never really had any real friends...well, anyone I could trust anyway. They all wanted something...but you? I dunno...

 

Aiden: Funny thing was, I didn't like you when we first met.

 

MacCready: Yeah...I get that a lot, wasn't crazy about you either...just wanted your caps.

(sips his beer)

Odd...you remind me of someone I met a long time ago when I was back at lamplight when I was just a boy...I told you about that, right? I still remember him, often wonder where he is now...if he is even alive.

 

Aiden: Oh?

 

MacCready: A stranger came to Little Lamplight, a young man, he was looking for something. I wouldn't let him in...I was the Mayor after all and we didn't allow Mungos in...

 

Aiden raises an eyebrow

 

...OH...Mungos, old people...anyone over sixteen. Don't look at me like that...anyway, he persisted and I decided to take a shot at him to make my point, after all it was my job, right? In a heartbeat...he took out his pistol and blew my gun right out of my hand...just like that! Then calmly put his pistol back in his pistol harness..told me not to try that again.

 

Aiden: You told me you were...what? ten years old then? And you took a shot at this guy?

 

MacCready: Yep...One of the few times my eyes got real big, anyway, he explained that he only needed to get into the Vault. Vault 88...no..87. Lamplight was in a large cavern just outside the entrance to Vault 87. Long story short...I let him in and he kept his word. I might have been a kid then, but I learned my lessons real fast...don't mess with this guy.

 

Aiden: So..who was he? I get the feeling he made an impression on you.

 

MacCready: I didn't know it at the time, but he was already becoming a legend in the Wastelands...I don't think even he realized it. He was the 'Lone Wanderer'...right there in front of me. Yes, he did make an impression on me...for a Mungo anyway. I still have this scar on my hand when he shot my gun out of my hand...see?

 

Aiden: Lone Wanderer? Are you telling me that I remind you of him?

 

MacCready: Strangely enough...yeah, you do. You see...he helped us, never asked...just did it and never asked for anything in return. He would stop in and check up on us, make sure we were OK. He was there when we kicked Sticky out of Lamplight. He made sure that Sticky got to Big Town safely. More to the point, we became friends..of sorts. I had an image I had to keep, being the Mayor...but truth be told, I liked him and was happy to see him when ever he showed up.

 

Aiden: Sticky? What kind of a name is that? And you kicked him out?

 

MacCready: Sticky?...ummmm, (sips beer) Trust me, it was a good name for him. Sticky turned sixteen...it was time for him to go. Anyone who reached age sixteen had to leave...just as I did. Some made it...some didn't but those were the rules.

 

Aiden: So who is this Lone Wanderer?

 

MacCready: You're kidding? You don't know? Everyone has heard of him..the Saviour of the Wastelands? He fought against the Enclave, helped the BOS and eventually got clean water in the DC area...it's a long story, but he kind of got thrown to the wolves when he made his escape from Vault 101. It all started because he was trying to find his father who had left the vault before him...it just went downhill from there and he got caught up in a world of hurt...right in the middle of it.

 

Aiden: I guess I didn't tell you, but I came from a Vault too, Vault 111. I was in cyro for over two hundred years...I have no clue who this Lone Wanderer is. Mine is a long story too...frankly not one I'd like to get into right now.

 

MacCready: You're a Vault Boy! No SHI....I mean, seriously! You both came from Vaults...gotta be some irony there somewhere. Damn...you're over two hundred years old! Don't look too bad for an old timer.

 

Aiden: uhh..yeah, Thanks. What happened to him? or do you know?

 

MacCready: The last visit he brought us some supplies. This was after the war was over, and he was trying to be himself again. But the notoriety was getting to him, he detested it. He was either a hero or a target and just wanted to get away from it all. He told me that it might be a long time before he would be back, he was going away for a while, let things calm down. For the first time in my life I felt a real sense of...I dunno...loss? I remember looking up at him...then I just ...hugged him as tight as I could. (MacCready smiles softley.)

 

Guess I caught him off guard with that one, but he put his arms around me and hugged me back gently. I may have had tears in my eyes, I don't remember...but he let go and gave me a soft smile. I remember his last words...he said:

 

'You can take care of yourself, I know you can. Watch your back and always be aware of what's around you...that's how I survived. Never stop moving in a fight and know when to run. Be good MacCready, I won't forget you.'

 

...With that, he picked up his backpack and padded his way up the tunnel, never saw him again. Funny...I remember the little puffs of dust from his feet as we walked away. He never wore shoes...said he had to feel the good earth under his feet.

(sips his beer)

I never forgot him. I think he had just turned twenty years old then too...he was only nineteen when I first met him, can you believe that? I follow his advice to this day.

 

Aiden: WOW..he was young. And he was an experienced soldier then?

 

MacCready: Yes, and he wasn't a soldier...he was a true warrior. But he didn't ask for it, he simply did what he had to do at that time. I think in his heart he just wanted to be a boy again. you know..get those lost years back...I guess? Anyway... no one could fight like he could. No one knows what happened to him, he just packed up and left.

 

He had a home in Megaton, told them they could do what they wanted with it. Last time I went through Megaton bout five years back, his home is still there, his name on the door. They still keep it up for him and his home is still there waiting for him to come back, just like it was when he left it.

 

I know now that he had to grow up way too fast...he was a man in a boys body and he earned his respect. There were rumors that he had been seen down in the New Vegas area a couple of years later...but no one knew for sure. Caravan reports were not always reliable back then, still not now that I think about it.

 

Aiden: You mean Las Vegas?

 

MacCready: Hmmm? Las Vegas? I dunno...Las Vegas, New Vegas? One and the same...could be. I just hope that he didn't become a dried up nameless corpse out in some desert. That was his only fear...he told me that he was always afraid of becoming one of those nameless corpses out in the wastelands. No one would know who he was or what happened to him. He said it was one of those thoughts he always had in the back of his mind, he wasn't much afraid of anything at that point in his life, but that was his biggest fear...just becoming a dried up nameless corpse somewhere out in the middle of nowhere.

 

Funny thing is...I'm not much older then he was when he left. I had to grow up way too fast too. We heard reports of some big war going on in that area. I didn't pay much attention at the time, something to do with a dam? Hell...Didn't even know what a dam was until then.

 

Aiden: Sounds like Hoover Dam if it's in the Vegas area...down in Nevada. So that would make him to be...what? Around thirty years old now, something like that?

 

MacCready: Yeah..be about right. And I think you're right, Nevada Territory was mentioned and some group called the NCR?

 

Aiden: The fact that you admired him and compare him to me...Thank You. Means a lot. But I don't think I even compare to him from what you told me. I'll have to find out more now just out of curiosity.

 

MacCready: More your personality...and your fighting style, very similar to him. but you look nothing like him, well...you both have similar builds. I saw him in a fight against some Raiders outside of Lamplight...every move counted, he knew exactly where he was and where they were. Took on six of them with his Desert Eagle...emptied one clip did a roll and changed clips in the process and was going to finish them off, but the rest ran off, he got three of them though. Maybe...thirty-forty seconds? Incredible.

 

(Laughs) I fired a few shots...I hit a tree! He complimented me on a good shot...he had a wicked sense of humor!

 

My point is...if he took you as a friend, you were his friend and would try his best to be there for you. You didn't want to be on his bad side and if you were his enemy...well, count the days...you probably would end up dead. It was pretty cut and dry with him...you are like that, like him in that sense. He didn't have many friends or so he told me.

 

Aiden: Sounds like he learned his lessons the hard way and didn't give his trust easily. I certainly had to change my way of thinking since I got out of that Vault, so I can understand this.

 

MacCready: Yeah...but now you are my friend and I'll be there for you. Done deal.

 

Aiden: Same...I wished I could have met him. All this was going on and I'm frozen in cyro in a damned Vault. You were lucky to have met him. What was his name? or did you even know?

 

MacCready: His name? His name was Joel, not many knew that. No one knows his last name, not even me.

 

MacCready stands up and stretches...

 

C'mon...enough of this, I've bared my soul enough for now, let's get moving. You can tell me your story when you're ready.

 

Aiden: Yeah... good name, Joel. I like that. Maybe he will show up sometime, you never know.

 

MacCready: No...I don't think so. I think he will keep moving on...he is the Lone Wanderer after all. I hope he finds what ever it is he is looking for.

 

Aiden: It could happen, he might want to go home.

 

MacCready: When he visited us at Lamplight, he would always say 'C'ya later' when he left. That last time I saw him?, he said...'Good Bye'. No...I'll never see him again.

 

MacCready looks at Aiden and smiles. 'But...I hope you're right'.

 

Aiden: (nods)

  

   

What did Vikings do before Harley Davidson motorcycles were invented?

 

I've always liked Vikings.

 

Well... I'm not sure I ever knew one...

 

But I was a kid in the seventies when vans were very popular... havin' a conversion van then was like some status symbol indicating your complete coolness or something.

 

Fred had a van on Scooby Doobie Doo and I think that's why he scored with Daphne.

 

But he wore ascots... and I could never figure that out.

 

Usually guys who wear ascots don't score with hot chicks if you know what I mean.

 

Unless they're British.

 

British guys could get away with that kinda stuff because of their accents.

 

I always looked up to guys who drove vans.

 

Guys who wear ascots?

 

Not so much.

 

I don't know... I was only like ten years old... but I remember it seemed like a lot of vans had really cool Viking scenes painted on them.

 

I especially liked the ones painted with the really well toned super-endowed Viking woman... usually in a fur bikini with matching fur boots... on top of some gnarly and rugged mountain... swinging a big double handed sword and cutting off a dragons head or something.

 

I don't know about you but I've always been a big fan of the 'hot chick slays the beast' genre of art.

 

It's not for everyone.

 

That's also when I learned to appreciate fine airbrush art.

 

And Viking women.

 

In fur bikinis.

 

Swinging big swords.

 

Airbrush art and fine looking Viking women are like peanut butter and chocolate I think... they just 'go together.'

 

Throw in a 'blank' van and you're talking the ultimate-cool 'trifecta' baby!

 

I wonder how people went about getting those murals painted on their van?

 

'Yesh... I really like this van... but it's kinda plain... I'm the kinda guy who'd like an airbrushed nordic goddess painted on the side... it speaks of my unique personality and character attributes... can you set me up... I mean if you do... I'll buy the van... but she's gotta be wearing a fur bikini and fur boots... deal?'

 

Or... 'eh Louie... I'm thinkin' about buyin' one a dem conVERsion vans... you know anybuddy who maybe knows anybuddy who get me all set up with one a dem Viking chick fantasy murals?'

 

'Dere's dis guy named Sven dey say he's a like Michael Angelo with de airbrush... down dere in Blue Island... he does really good fur boots an stuff... I getcha his numbah.'

 

I did a flickrsearch for 'fur bikini' to come up with a good picture for this story.

 

I prolly shouldn't have done that.

 

Although the one with Latitia Casta's face pasted on to some other chicks body was kind of interesting... it was a decent photoshop job... but I could tell right away that those weren't Latitia's breasts because I studied them in college at the masters level.

 

What I saw was really disturbing and I'm going to have a hard time going to sleep now.

 

If you like disturbing stuff check out this image... you'll totally regret it so don't get all p!ssed off at me because I warned you... but you know you wanna look... so here... click on this link... www.flickr.com/photos/furslave/2487451390/

 

Now go clear your browser's history before you forget.

 

You can thank Viewminder for reminding you later.

 

Nothing ruins a weekend like your girl/guy/lifepartner saying...

 

'So WHO were YOU looking to buy a FUR BIKINI for huh?'

 

If you have good instincts you'd duck after ever hearing a statement like that.

 

I know I'd just run... in a tight zig zag pattern. Fast. Far. And Away. Fast and far away.

 

DON'T EVEN try to explain... you'll only dig your hole deeper... it's better to present a moving target anyway.

 

Gahd help you if you get cornered in the car on the expressway with this one... just aim for the closest bridge abuttment and get it over with quick.

 

If there's one thing Viewminder knows it's CRAZY LOVE gone bad. Trust me.

 

Nobody could possibly be ready to lie their way out of that one... and let's face it... the truth isn't too believable either.

 

You'd be an idiot if you tried the old 'so WHAT were you doing looking at MY browser history... you don't TRUST me' routine on that one. You ain't turning this one around this time. No way.

 

The time-tested 'turn the tables' trick with the look of sincere hurt on your face might work when you been caught looking at your garden variety internet porn... but not dudes in fur bikinis.

 

Don't matter if you're innocent... you gotta think damage control at this point.

 

And damage control means DON'T bring me into it... nunna that 'baby I was just lookin' at Viewminder's stream again... he always links to this crazy sh!t.'

 

I get enough Chicago-Love without your help thank you.

 

Best bet... find a payphone... cuz your cell phone was probably the first thing thrown at you... and just call and do like Hollywood movie stars do... 'baby... I know I need help... I'm going to check into a residential intensive program... I appreciate you standin' by me until WE get through this.'

 

Charlie Sheen has that printed on the back of his business cards I heard.

 

You gotta use the 'WE' word. It's like subliminal. Either they'll be happy that there's still a 'WE' or they won't and you'll know it right away.

 

It's good to know where you stand in crisis mode.

 

Might buy you enough time to get your stuff back when your new ex leaves if they don't change the locks right away.

 

Better getcher stuff quick too... before you get the restraining order.

 

That's the best I got.

 

Strategically you're in a really good position... when the ex goes out and tells all their friends and family the story... it's so outrageous it kinda sounds like a lie.

 

So when all that stuff you're really guilty of comes out no one'll believe that either.

 

There's really a bright side to everything if you look at it right.

 

Mr. Fur Bikini couldda made you a contact... friends and family too!

 

Of course if you'd get a 'c'mere you... I noticed you were looking at fur bikinis for me'... I'd say you're in for a wild weekend and I would hope you'd at least send Viewminder a private flickr mail describing the craziness of said weekend.

 

You'd owe me that much.

 

Maybe even a 'guest pass' to check out the pictures.

 

I promise to change your name before I tell everyone.

 

If that doesn't shock you... cus you're the kind a person it takes a lot to shock... try looking at that image while listening to this song... it's the one from Disney World... 'It's a small world after all'... www.youtube.com/watch?v=eIabgPX14R4

 

I suggest opening two different windows AND locking your door.

 

Somebody walks into your world while you've got that image on your screen and that song playing...

 

If you're a minor... stay away from the first link but play the second link over and over in your room really loud.

 

Pretty soon your mom will be taking you once a week to see the nice lady who asks lots of questions but seems completely non-judgemental.

 

You can find a lot of ways to have fun with that.

 

And Mr. Fur Bikini lover... if you track back all those hits to my stream here... I'm not judgin'... I say to each their own... live and let live... I mean... I've already admitted I got a thing for airbrushed fantasy scenes of well endowed Viking women swingin' swords... everybody's got their thing... we all fuhreeky deeky!

 

You have fun with that... I mean... it doesn't look like anyone's getting hurt... next time maybe try to be a little environmentally conscious and use 'simulated' fur maybe... I'm just sayin'.

 

Chicago-Love!

 

I've never been big on vans... but they seemed like a really great place to paint an airbrush masterpiece to show off to the world your enthusiasm for nordic goddess warrior chick types.

 

I guess that's where my fascination with Vikings started.

 

This guy reminds me of a Viking.

 

I didn't have a chance to ask him... but I bet he digs vans with cool airbrush art and women in fur bikinis and boots weilding broadswords.

 

I'm psychic like that.

 

Now if I could have only foreseen the results of my image search for 'fur bikini'...

 

Oh and about that quitting flickr thing... April Fools.

 

Don't be hatin' me and pass this on to all your 'frenemies.'

 

I gotta feelin' this'll be my latest picture to be kicked off of 'explore.'

 

Faces on the street

Chicago 3.26.11

35mm 1.8 I can't even remember what I did to this one.

Photo by Mark Loasby.

 

We created this role to cover some of the scene changes - and it was a chance for me to go crazy with the face paint.

 

Boogie Nights

 

Faringdon Community College Musical, 2010.

 

Directed by Julia Nichols and Giles Watson.

Music Direction by Ella Kolodziej.

Set design by Paul Spurrett and Natalie Thomas.

Costumes by Kathleen Thomas and Ulia Haynes.

 

The following is the basic script which we wrote in order to keep the action constant during scene changes, but there was a lot of improvisation too!

 

Fungus 1. (Pre-show, p. 9)

 

Cue: Paul McCartney/Bogey Music – music plays as Fungus enters, fades as conversation starts.

 

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

Fungus: (Shakes his hand) Well, if this is Bogey Nights, then I'm Fungus the Bogeyman, so obviously my presence would add significantly to the ambience - if you wouldn't mind letting me inside…

 

Bouncer: Bogeyman? Well you can't come in here. That hairstyle is against the dress code, and your clothes are wet and - er - rather musty -

 

Fungus: (proudly) Smelly you mean. That's because I spread patent bogey odorant liberally on my underarm hair just for the occasion.

 

Bouncer: (noticing Bogey-bike) What's that?

 

Fungus: It's the latest in Bogey design: built for slowness, so one can savour the stink of the sewers. I had it especially sprayed with liberal helpings of cow and pig manure before riding it here -

 

Bouncer: Well if that's your bike, get on it!

 

Fungus: Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew. (Exits.)

  

Rockers: Before 1. Scene 2, p. 20

 

Rocker 1: (Imitating badly): "Don't blame it on the sunshine/ Don't blame it on the moonlight/ Don't blame it on the good times/ Blame it on the airheaded geek in spangled flares with a glitterball for a head."

 

Rocker 2: (Imitating badly): "Don't blame it on the sunshine/ Don't blame it on the moonlight/ Don't blame it on the good times/ Blame it on John Revolting and Olivia Neutron Bomb - I wish they both were dead."

 

Rocker 3: (Imitating badly): "Don't blame it on the sunshine/ Don't blame it on the moonlight/ Don't blame it on the good times/ Blame it on some lousy poncy dancer prancing on the stage…

 

Rocker 1: Singing in falsetto…

 

Rocker 2: If we caught him down the ghetto...

 

Rocker 3: We'd have him dancing faster…

 

Rocker 1: Thrashing his head in the moshpit...

 

Rocker 2: We'd blast him with our ghetto blaster…

 

Rocker 3: Ghettoblaster? What's a ghetto blaster?

 

Rocker 1: Yeah, loser, who ever heard of a ghetto blaster? (They look at each other, and the realisation dawns.) Ghetto blaster…

 

Rocker 2: Geez man, imagine the decibels…(They exit, thrashing.)

 

Cue: short burst of heavy rock.

  

Shopper and Hippy

(on the street, before 1. Scene Three, p. 23)

 

Cue: Performance/Track 9/The Hashishin – plays as an undertone throughout the whole scene.

 

Shopper: Hi! That new boutique is just the grooviest –

 

Hippy: Whoa, man! Like, you’re talkin’ too fast. My head is reelin’.

 

Shopper: Look what I bought. (Takes lava lamp from bag.) Hip or what?

 

Hippy: Funky, man! There’s a whole volcano in there. Those swirlin’ colours put me in touch with, like, where it’s at, man!

 

Shopper: Yeah, and it’s not even plugged in yet!

 

(They walk off, completely entranced by the lava lamp.)

   

Shopper and Rocker

(on the street, before 1. Scene Four, p. 27)

 

Cue: Performance Soundtrack/Track 3/Get Away – playing as an undertone throughout the conversation.

 

Shopper: Hi! I just bought the funkiest new item!

 

Rocker: What is it, man?

 

Shopper: It’s a glass bird of some sort.

 

Rocker: Cripes, it’s filled with red stuff. Is it alcoholic?

 

Shopper: You don’t drink it. The bird drinks. Out of a glass.

 

Rocker: (sarcastic) Yeah, right. What’s this feather on its bum. (Pulls the feather off).

 

Shopper: Hey! You can’t do that! That’s my goofy bird, man!

 

Rocker: (raising his guitar) And this is my Fender. (He chases the Shopper off the stage, wielding the guitar like a battle axe.)

   

Fungus 2. (Before 1. Scene 5, p. 32.)

 

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

Fungus: Aye, well, mi’ lad. Mah name is Bogus the Fungeyman, tha' knows, and ah've come ter demonstrate t' latest in Yorkshire disco dancing styles. Thar’s nowt like em -

 

Bouncer: Well, you aren't gonna demonstrate 'em in here. Those boils on the back of your neck could be infectious.

 

Fungus: Could be infectious? They'd better be. I've been cultivating them for weeks just for the occasion.

 

Bouncer: What's that?

 

Fungus: What? Oh, that! That's a packet of flaked corns I'm taking home for breakfast. Fresh scraped from the smelliest feet, matured and extra mouldy -

 

Bouncer: Well, you can try out your corny accents somewhere else, preferably far away from here. Hop it!

 

Fungus: Dear me. Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player, who struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot… (Exits).

  

Rockers: Outside the Cinema, before 1. Scene Six, p. 34

 

Rocker 1: (Imitating badly): “Aaaah, oooh, aaaah, oooh / Sugar baby love, sugar baby love / You make me puke / It’s so emetic…”

 

Rocker 2: Just pathetic, man.

 

Rocker 1: He needs a dose of Deep Purple as an antidote. Disco has gone to his head and rotted his brain.

 

Rocker 2: He’s insane.

 

Rocker 1: And if I hear that goddamn refrain one more time, I swear I’ll ram the neck of my guitar down his throat.

 

Rocker 2: Smash it over his head.

 

Rocker 1: Smash it, man? You crazy?

 

Rocker 2: I mean it. I’d clobber him with it while it was still plugged in.(They exchange glances. A new and wonderful idea has formed.)

 

Rocker 1: Geez, man, imagine the feedback!

 

Rocker 2: Yeah, man. Let’s grab some disco-heads, get back to my joint and try it out.(They exit, brandishing guitars like weapons.)

 

Cue: short burst of heavy rock (e.g. Deep Purple/Strange Kind of Woman).

  

Fungus 3. (Before 1. Scene Seven, p. 38.)

  

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

Fungus: Top oth' morning' to you, Paddy. My name's Mangus the Fungeyboge, and I'm here to demonstrate the latest Irish disco-fiddle techniques -

 

Bouncer: Well, you can't come in here. The dirt under those fingernails would be sufficient to fertilise all the cabbages on my allotment.

 

Fungus: (enthusiastically) You can have some if you like. I dangle my fingernails in fermented rancid bat's giblets every evening.

 

Bouncer: What's that?

 

Fungus: What? Oh, that. That's - er - that's one of the giblets.

 

Bouncer: Well get it in the bin - and you'd better follow it!

 

Fungus: Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely… (exits.)

  

Shopper, Rockers and Hippy

(On the street, before 1. Scene Eight, p. 42. The rockers enter, carrying prototype ghetto-blaster. It is playing ‘No More Tears’, much to their disgust.)

 

Cue: Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand/No More Tears. It turns off when Rocker 1 turns the volume knob on the ghetto-blaster.

 

Rocker 1: (Turns off the ghetto blaster. Singing badly) “Enough is enough is enough / I can’t go on / Enough is enough is enough / I can’t stand Donna Summer and Barbra Striesand any more.”

 

Rocker 2: (Getting violent with his guitar.) “Good bye missus/ Good bye missus / Enough is enough.”

 

Rocker 1: Yeah, well. No need to take it out on my guitar. It’s my third this week. And don’t hit the ghetto blaster with it. We’re just tuned into the wrong station, that’s all.

 

Shopper: Wow, guys, what’s that? Where’d you buy it?

 

Rocker 2: We didn’t buy it, dude. We made it.

 

Cue: Deep Purple/Smoke on the Water – undertone throughout rest of scene.

Rocker 1: It’s a ghetto blaster. (He turns it up. It is now playing ‘Smoke on the Water’.)

 

Hippy: Man, it’s just another thing you gotta plug in, once the batteries run out. Get real, guys, an’ get in touch with the universe. All you need is a guitar, and a flower for the power.

 

Shopper: But I like stuff that plugs in. How much d’ya want for it?

 

Rocker 1: It’s not for sale.

 

Rocker 2: It’s a protoplasm.

 

Rocker 1: Prototype, you mean, butter-for-brains.

 

Rocker 2: Yeah, that.

 

Hippy: You wait, man. All these prog-rock bands could learn a thing or two from Vashti Bunyan. One day they’ll all be playing without electricity.

 

Rocker 1: What? Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin unplugged. You gotta be crazy!

 

Shopper: He’s insane.

  

Fungus 4. Entr’ Acte, 2. p. 50

 

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

Fungus: Och aye, mi laddie. My name's Bogus the Mangeyfung, and I'm here to demonstrate the latest sporran-slapping, bagpipe tootin disco steps -

 

Bouncer: Well, you can't come in here. Your clothes are dripping muddy water all over the threshold. Smells like you’ve just come out of a sewer.

 

Fungus: (enthusiastically) Er, two sewers, actually. The first one wasn’t stinky enough. It’s never quite the same when the local population eats too much processed food. It’s best when they subsist on a diet of haggis, neaps and tatties.

 

Bouncer: What's that?

 

Fungus: What? Oh, that. That's - er - that's one of the tatties. Not properly digested.

 

Bouncer: Well get to the public lavatory, and flush it.

 

Fungus: The earth seems to me a sterile promontory, a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. Yum. (exits.)

  

Shopper and Hippy

(On the street, before 2. Scene Two, p. 67. The hippy has a back-pack.)

 

Cue: Gather in the Mushrooms/Track 12/Vashti Bunyan/Winter is Blue

 

Shopper: Hi! I just bought the funkiest new item –

 

Hippy: I don’t care, man. I’ve had enough of our modern, materialistic, acquisitive, war-mongering society. I’m on my way to Sark, man.

 

Shopper: Sark? Where’s that?

 

Hippy: It’s an island, brother. In Guernesey.

 

Shopper: Does it have – shops?

 

Hippy: No, man, but it has a really hip lighthouse – and no disco. It’s only two miles long. I’m moving in with the Incredible String Band.

 

Shopper: The Incredible String What?

 

Hippy: You know, man: The 5000 Spirits or The Layers of the Onion, The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter, Hard Rope and Silken Twine…

 

Shopper: Never heard of them. But why do you want to live on an island? There’ll be no –

 

Hippy: Yeah, that’s the point man. There’ll be no Uncle Sam, no Vietnam, no wise men in wide headachey ties. No plastic, man. And no disco.

 

Shopper (despairing): And no sho –

 

Hippy: Right, man, no shops. And no Tricky Dicky, no Watergate, no Bangla-Desh style starvations, no Bloody Sunday, no KKK, no Evel Knievel, no metric conversion, no Bee Gees, no Two Ronnies – and no disco.

 

Shopper (it just doesn’t compute): No shops.

 

Hippy (shrugs and leaves): You’re weird, man, but hey, peace anyway.

  

Shoppers/Rockers

(On the street, before 2. Scene Five, p. 70. The rockers enter with armfuls of ghetto-blasters. A gaggle of shoppers gather around them.)

 

Cue: Hendrix/Track 1/Purple Haze – fade during conversation

 

Rocker 1: Come an’ get em, dudes. Only thirty pounds a bash.

 

Shopper 1: Oooh – I like that one. It’s got lots of knobs.

 

Shopper 2: This one looks a bit like a blowfly’s head. I’ll buy it.

 

Shopper 3: Do they come in pink?

 

(The shoppers buy all of the ghetto blasters except one, and then disperse. Rocker 1’s hands are full of money.)

 

Rocker 2: Hey, man. You don’t reckon that by makin’ all this money, we’re like, sellin’ out to the establishment?

 

Rocker 1: No way, mate. Just think of all the dough Mick Jagger’s got. He ain’t a sellout.

 

Rocker 2: Right, man. Well, in that case – (He makes a grab for some of the money.)

 

Rocker 1: “Money / Get back / I’m all right Jack / Keep your hands off my stack.” (He turns up the ghetto blaster. It is playing ‘Money’, by Pink Floyd. Rocker 2 looks confused for a moment, then picks up his guitar, brandishes it wildly like a battle-axe, and pursues Rocker 1 off the stage.)

 

Cue: Dark Side of the Moon/Money – opening riff plays, fades on exit.

  

Fungus 5. Before 2. Scene Seven, p. 73.

 

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

Fungus: Ah, goodness gracious me, spiffing day, eh what? My name's Lord Bungus the Fogeymang, Viscount, Earl, O.B.E, and I'm here to demonstrate some of the more up-market disco-dancing techniques. Disco’s not just for the oi polloy, you know!

 

Bouncer: Well, you can't come in here. I’ve never met an earl with such disgusting corduroy trousers before. They’ve got things living in them.

 

Fungus: (enthusiastically) Well, yes, as a matter of fact, there are. I’ve got three sewer rats, fifteen snails and one newt down there. And that’s just in me underpants.

 

Bouncer: What's that?

 

Fungus: What? Oh, that. That's - er – that’s a leech. It was probably living on one of the sewer rats.

 

Bouncer: Well, on your way, sucker.

 

Fungus: And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? (exits.)

     

Fungus 6. End of show, p. 79

(Enter Fungus, as before, but as the conversation continues, a gang of rockers with ghetto blasters congregates behind him.)

 

Bouncer: Yeah, what do you want?

 

Fungus: Is this Bogey Nights?

 

Bouncer: Boogie Nights. Yes, this is Boogie Nights. What's it to you?

 

(Fungus steps back, takes one look at the bouncer, and brushes him aside. He enters the disco, the rockers in his train. Everyone in the wedding party screams, and freezes.)

 

This is the end, but really, only of my 365. In actuality its truly the beginning, or rather continuation of my growth as a photographer. One thing I'd promised myself I'd do, was create at least one video/slideshow using my photos before I had finished. So here it it, my grand finale, using suggestions from an incredible group of women, who wanted to see me pop up one last time before calling it a year with a self-portrait in the location of my first shot with a bottle of champagne! So I went and had a little photoshoot with Maj...and about half of the neighborhood. Two years ago, I could never have done this...set my tripod up on a busy street corner to shoot selfies with my dog and a bottle of booze. As you'll see, they're not the most natural, but I've got some good people bokeh to prove that I wasn't alone! After playing around with video, you can be sure I'll be compiling the whole 365 together in the near future. But for now, thank you friends who have remained loyal contacts despite my falling off the flickrverse earlier this year when I became overwhelmed with too many projects. I've learned that I can only handle maybe two at time before everything starts to crumble. So we'll see where 2012 takes me. I've already commited to another year with my Good Morning series, and I have a feeling, that's only the beginning! I'm looking forward to sharing next year with you, and watching us all grow together as photographers and friends.

 

{365/365}

Another TT story!

 

TT: No Honor Among Thieves

 

Fall 2213

 

Somewhere roughly 40 miles Outside of New Chicago

 

I know for a fact that this goddamned crate is just laughing at me. Mocking me that I can't see the beautiful, beautiful contents it holds. I HATE CRATES! GAAAAAAHHHH!!! Now theses a crowbar in my hand ready to go nuts on it and bring out the pretty sonuva bitch inside. But I gotta wait. At least it's already in a good position here in my garage, right between the Rose Type 57 and Blazefury ATH. Not that my garage is a bad place to be anywhere. The pearl white floors, the racing red walls, and more incredible machines to make even Jay Leno envious. At least he should be now considering what I just got. Having connections in Sweden does wonders. No, I didn't just get the latest Acro hypercar. Hannes gifted me an Uträtta outright on release as a thank-you for our recent business deals together. He got a Blazefury on release in return before it even debuted in Europe. But that's not the point. Hannes did help me get what I got today. He knows people. Like, royal people. And those royal people had brake fluid going through their veins and a mind set on nothing more but the likes of pistons and superchargers. Getting this royalty to like you will come with it's perks, like what's in the crate right now. Such a pain in the ass that I can't open it until----

 

*BBBZZZZZZ*

 

*KRSHH*"Fuck you, Adam. You gonna open the door or what? It's cold as balls out here and I've only got two more days in the Illinios." *KRSHH*

 

On the security display was just who I was waiting for, giving the cam the classic double one-digit solute. He rode here in the good ol' Harrier Harpoon as well! I recognize that idling V8 anywhere. Any more and it'll tear down my villa and open the bowels of hell. I let him in and he revs the harpoon in, giving a few revs that reverberate through the garage. It'd be annoying if I wasn't growing a third testicle from the sheer amount of badassery from it. He parks the hunk of muscle next to my personal Destroyer GTS, dwarfing it. Eh, I can at least take him in the curves. He walks up with this bored expression on his face. Oh god, I CANNOT wait to wipe it off.

 

"So, why am I here? 'sup with the crate?"

 

"That crate is EXACTLY why you're here!"

 

"Really? What's so special about it? What'cha illegally import now?"

 

"Not illegally per say, but definably imported. Only 4 of these things ever were, and one of them is mine. ALLLLL MIIIINNE!"

 

"Well, quit pissing yourself and show me! I don't have alot of time."

 

So you have wished, so it shall be. I've been waiting for two fucking days to do this! Christ, I can barely walk. I start tearing away at the boards with the crowbar, hands all sweaty and my heart racing faster than a Firepower in 6th gear. Finally, the last board is off! I get to take my first look of this thing in my own home. The last time I saw it was back in Sweden, but now it's----

 

"......so, is it invisible or something?"

 

.

  

I've wrestled with my conscience and declared the bout a draw. I've examined each and every avenue of perception and contemplation with time on my side and a willingness to seek out some pearl of wisdom that I might take with me to the grave. But all this pathetic brain of mine can muster is an awe for Mother nature's brilliance and bounty as those tidal surges have me ever more drenched and clinging onto my last breath, and the realisation that perhaps this is not such a bad day to die.

 

The thin tubular aluminium legs of my portable fishing chair flex and move under the weight of the water, sinking ever deeper into the soft velvety sand with each successive wave as I flinch under the freezing cold pain of the water now making unwarranted advances upon my ill prepared flesh. I want to cry but won't allow myself such wasteful and unproductive indulgence as I struggle to break free my limbs from the layers of tape that bind me callously to the skimpy chair, itself firmly affixed to the far end of the wooden groyne that for decades many has occupied these sea defences. Despite my best intentions I must concede the simple fact that a mortal of the merest form I am, no God nor king of legend past and bold with powers to halt the progress of the devilish sea. All the same, old Canute's earnest belief in his abilities wouldn't come a miss right now.

 

The morning breeze stiffens and billows in, buffeting my face along with salty sea spray and foam that floats from the shoreline, stinging my eyes and scalding my parched lips as my brain attempts to calculate and recalibrate a world of mayhem and possibility. And like a mirage in a barren desert land, from time to time there I am, believing that I might actually find salvation amidst the blissful chaos. Where I think there is a sign of movement between tethered hands and unforgiving tape, reality slaps me down as I fail once more to make any ground, the water ever faster, ever deeper as it pools around my submerged feet which are anchored beneath the sand and buried to a point several inches above my ankles, sending an icy chill up and down my spine. I know that he is watching me from a short distance away, I can feel his cold eyes burning into the back of my neck, his contemptuous stare though he'll naturally understand if I don't turn around and give him the satisfaction of the credit he craves. All the same, I wish I could turn and flash him a toothy smile as an 'up yours, pal' salvo across his decks. A three sixty revolving neck like a scene from 'The Exorcist' would be a neat trick right now.

 

My right eye is partially closed, the swelling smarting like a son of a bitch and congealed blood now dry and crusty around my face where he broke the skin under the impact with fists and wedding ring. Ah yes, that ring. How apt and intrinsically appropriate. Worn out of some sense of dominance and pride I would guess, a mark of allegiance, of ownership in his eyes, to complete my final humiliation and stamp his angry condemnation of my carnal actions and the consequences that have arisen from them. Only a fool such as I could choose to make an enemy of a violent husband with psychopathic tendencies, and a passion for the intricate details of violence drawn from years of watching American gangster movies. Why couldn't he have been a 'philatelist, then the worst fate that might have befallen me was in being licked to death! Or a lepidopterist.... hmm on second thoughts he'd probably have dried me to a husk and pinned me in a glass cabinet with a giant pin through my chest!

 

This stretch of coastline lies secluded and unmolested by tourist eyes, towards the outer reaches of the angry shoreline, where ageing wooden groynes pepper the beach and stand guard over my demise like legions of soldiers lined up for the fight. Positioned by the first breaker with three more behind me closer to the sea wall, my eyes survey the degradation and algae adorning the wooden form which tells me that soon I shall taste the salt water and breathe no longer. Everything so meticulously planned, he chose the location so well as into his violent trap I so foolishly wandered. The story of my life one could say, the nearly man, neither Prince nor King of the facets of my life, a head filled with romantic notions and a heart worn so carelessly on my soaking wet sleeves. Romance, you've gotta love it. Look where it got me this time. The sea water rises steadily, my waste now submerged and all attempts to free the legs of the chair thwarted by his use of tent pegs bent over and pinned into the core of the sand. He thought of everything, the cold and calculating bastard! My heart beat races like a charging stallion with every new pulsing surge of water, and perhaps rather curiously, I find myself with the urge to laugh out loud, uncontrollably at the top of my lungs. Am I facing madness as I stare death in the eye? I guess I never got around to reading the book on my bedroom cabinet, 'Etiquette when facing death at the hands of a mad thing'.

 

My nose is broken, I'm almost certain of the fact as I can hear the fragments moving rather unsettlingly against each other as I breath through the constricted passageway of my blood filled nostrils, mouth agape as I suck in great gulps of air and breath hard as the liquid reaches my chest. It's a suitably impressive show that Mother nature puts on just for me in my final hour, with the golden sand slowly disappearing beneath the advancing crests of the foamy waves, and seagulls overhead seeming to stare down and mock my sad plight as they hover motionless in the breeze above me. Unlike those ancient and fascinating Groynes, for this mere mortal, just one early morning tide is all that is needed to erase me, snuff me out from the existence enjoyed, the future I had planned. I feel almost cheated somehow, relishing the prospect of going out in style at the very least, and yet here I am giving up the fight without so much as a whimper.

 

Back at the car, Susan's carcass will be rapidly cooling by now. He'll have a hell of a job to hide all evidence of her murder, doesn't he realize that scrubbing the black velvet boot carpet of all traces of blood and bodily fluids will not fool the forensic squad once they get their filthy paws on the Mercedes? I picked that up from reruns of CSI shows on various digital channels over the years. I can still see her lying there as he opened the boot and forced me to survey the extent of the damage that I had caused. Hands taped and blood pouring from my fresh wounds, the baseball bat indentations throbbing on my battered bones as I looked into her still open, though curiously vacant eyes. I guess it's only fair that we both suffered the same fate this day for our unrequited love, the illicit and lurid legacy of our torrid affair, and yet a part of me, a selfish part that lurks deep in the very recesses of my worthless heart, somehow wishes that Susan were still alive to give me a perspective, a reason to make a stand and fight back like a man with all my strength and might. As it is, I am broken, nothing left to care for, the reason for my existence snuffed out before me. I am beaten. I guess there is always Mr Timmins, but no doubt once he realizes that I have not shown up for his on the dot five thirty dinner spread, he'll do what all cats do and find some other sucker to fall for his fluffalicious charms.

 

A wave pounds me, rushing my nostrils as salt water powers past the restricted passageways, pain searing through my brain as I try to eject the water from my mouth in rapid spits, head flailing with the limited movement my neck has. It's actually quite a buzz, the cold water smacking me in the face, the realization that this is it, I'm facing the reaper any second. I'd like to make a final speech and announce to the world that I enjoyed my short life and lived it to the full, but the world doesn't care much it seems to me, as local residents still fester in the pits of their love nests, leaving just a handful of curious sea gulls to ride the breeze around me. It could have been so perfect, so idyllic, as we two forbidden lovers luxuriated in the moment of our freedom, heading off into the metaphoric sunset on white horses to begin a new life away from that monster. I should have been a man, had some backbone, thought this moment through and offered up at least a valiant defence. But here I sit, bound to a collapsible fishing chair with a broken nose and shattered dreams, the woman I love lying dead just metres from me and his victory complete and final.

 

The final wave signals her intent from afar, gathering momentum and lifting her skirts as she heads like a Queen on her trusty many hands high white steed with sword held aloft and steel visor firmly down. This is it I guess, as I face my demise, mouth open and screaming as defiantly as my throat will muster, the slit gushing rich ruby red lifeblood from the precise slashing that his serrated diving knife so cordially obliged me with. The water rushes over me and I can hear my scream beneath the wave as I struggle for breath and wait for the water to recede enough for one last gulp of air. But sometimes hopes and dreams are scattered to the winds as is the case right here and now. As my breath falters and water rushes into every orifice, I sense the end is here. Perhaps soon I will be reunited with my love in a better place. Underwater, eyes open, I ponder the existence of Mermaids from ancient legend and live in hope that one will come and rescue me at her leisure.

 

Ever the optimist.

 

Believe in mermaids? Right here, right now, never moreso.....

  

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Rewritten from a piece penned on December 31st 2010

  

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***** Selected for sale in the GETTY IMAGES COLLECTION on April 7th 2015

  

CREATIVE RF gty.im/ MOMENT OPEN COLLECTION**

 

This photograph became my 634th frame to be selected for inclusion and sale in the Getty Images 'Moment' collection and I am very grateful to them for such a wonderful opportunity.

  

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Photograph taken at sunrise on the beach at Camber Sands in East Sussex, England.

 

Nikon D700 34mm 1/50s f/3.2 iso200 -0.3step EV

 

Nikkor AF-S 24-70mm f/2.8G ED IF. UV filter. Manfrotto 055XPro Carbon fibre & Manfrotto 327 RC2 pistol grip. Shutter release and mirror up.

   

The KOM Flash report

for week of

July 17 to 23, 2016

 

Departure from the norm

 

This week wasn’t a good one for the old writer of the Flash Report. Some of the “not so good” things were learning of the deaths of former KOM ballplayers and friends. The first note came on Tuesday, July 12. This is how it was very eloquently stated. “John, just wanted to let you know that Larry left with the angels on Sunday, July 10, 2016. He always looked forward to your emails. Have a great day." Gail Scott—Terrell , Texas

 

Never in the history of KOM league publications have I led off speaking about a non-KOM leaguer. However, I don’t apologize for making an exception in this case.

 

My first recollection of the deceased was the year 1957. At that time I was a student at Joplin Junior College and a young man from Neosho, MO came past my car as I was listening to a gospel music program aired over KGLC in nearby Miami, OK. The fellow classmate told me he worked part-time for radio station KBTN in his hometown. He said that if I was interested they had a guy who worked there on a regular basis by the name of Larry Scott and that he played Southern gospel music from 11:30 to noon each week day.

 

A year later I was pastoring a small, like miniscule, congregation in Noel, MO which is located south of Neosho. I heard Scott announce one day that there would be a singing at Neosho featuring the “Singing Speer Family,” "The Blackwood Brothers” and the “Statesmen Quartet” at the Neosho Civic Center. In that era and genre of musical performers that was the crème de la crème. That group of singers spent two nights in Neosho which I learned many years later was to make sure expenses could be met. At that time Larry Scott was just 21 years of age and was producing those singing events which meant he had to rent a facility, purchase advertising and pay the performers for their appearance and if he didn’t have sufficient paid admissions he was liable for the difference. He once told me that it was a close call many times in covering the expenses of those events. In that era he was also producing concerts for the Oak Ridge Boys when they were still the Oak Ridge Quartet and were driving a big car to their appearances rather than a tour bus. For the KOM fans I once saw Scott’s production for the “Oaks” in the KOM league town of Pittsburg, Kansas.

 

It isn’t my intent to write Scott’s obituary for his son did a magnificent job in doing it. Over the past 10 years I have been in contact with Larry both in person and by e-mail. He had a keen interest in baseball which was expected since he was close friends to the legendary Albert E. Brumley www.google.com/search?rls=aso&client=gmail&q=crem...

and his sons. All of the members of the Brumley family were huge fans of professional baseball in Carthage from 1946-1951 and begrudgingly had to shift affiliation to Joplin after Carthage left the KOM league. Albert Jr. even performed at the KOM league reunion, in 2002, which he termed as one of the great experiences in his life. Come to think of it Brumley also performed at the event, in 1999, when this old guy had his image placed on the entrance to the ball park at Carthage.

 

One of the conversations between Scott and myself dealt with a tape recording I had made of Stan Musial’s final game. He asked if I still possessed it. I told him I did but it had been recorded on a seven inch reel to reel tape and that the tape was probably in horrible shape as it had been around for 40 or so years and had been stored in everything from old barns to wet basements. Like everything else in the radio and recording business, Scott knew an expert. He told me to send him the tape. After sending it he notified me his recording expert revealed that the tape would have to be “baked” in order for it to have any chance of being played so that it could be captured and placed on CDs. A few weeks later a package arrived with my original Scotch tape recording along with four CDs that it took to capture all the content on Musial’s last day as a player.

 

In recent weeks I had an e-mail from Scott telling me the Flash Report for that week was the best one of all-time. A few days later I wrote him a note telling him of the death of a former pianist for the “Foggy River Boys” who I knew from grammar and high school in Carthage. He responded that he was working on a special program of former gospel music performers and when he finished he’d send me a copy. Well, I’m sure that project was never finished but Scott had done more for that style of music as anyone. I once thought I knew a little bit about at least one subject –KOM league baseball—but what Scott knew about country, gospel and western swing music makes me look like a first grader going up against a PhD. I believe Scott was the most knowledgeable person in those three fields of music than anyone. I never came up with the name of an individual or singing group that he didn’t know and they in turn knew him. And when it came to a radio voice there was none better.

 

Gotta stop. But when Scott mentioned working for Harry Caray at WIL in St. Louis I knew he was a baseball fan. That story and more is covered in the following obituary. I do wish to make clear what Scott did at WIL for Caray. He produced Caray's evening sports broadcast. He was never on the air with Caray during a radio broadcast.

 

Obituary for Larry Scott

 

Larry Scott was born September 27th, 1938. He was called home to glory shortly after midnight July 10, 2016 in Kaufman County, TX . He leaves behind wife Gail and son Kelly and many 100s of friends long with a great legacy, told briefly in the words below.

 

His life has a story book quality. It started as a young boy growing up in Southwestern, MO. He was the only child of Omer and Dorothy Scott. They were a hard working farm family near Stark City, MO. As farm families did in that era, they began working at sun up in the fields, stopped for lunch, then continued work until nearly dusk. Well for young Larry those lunch time breaks soon gave birth to the inspiration in which he would spend a lifetime pursuing. His love of radio began around that ol’ dinner table when he and his Dad came in from the fields. As was custom, they listened to the Ag reports and then listened to live broadcasts from Pappy O’Daniel’s Light Crust Dough Boys, Bob Wills and The Texas Playboys just to mention a few. He was mesmerized by Red Foley, “The Voice of the Ozarks “and patterned himself after Red, who had such style and perfect delivery and at the same time staying in touch with the people. He started his first radio job at KBTN in 1954 at the age of 16, a small but widely listened to station in Neosho, MO. It did not take long for the seed to fully take root. It was there his legendary career, spanning 60 years was born.

 

His first love was Southern Gospel. Soon after stepping on the air waves he began promoting Gospel music shows and met, perhaps the greatest Gospel Song writer ever, Albert E Brumley. They began traveling together selling song books and promoting Albert’s songs which would eventually lead to the Sun Up to Sun Down gospel singing in Springdale, AR. The bond between Albert, Goldie and the Brumley boys was instant and they all became life-long friends. Soon after his graduation he went to Springfield, MO and auditioned for the Ozark Jubilee. Falling short of the job he decided he needed to have a trade to rely on in case this radio thing did not pan out. So of all things, he decided to go to embalming school in Nashville, TN. He had an on air position with WAGG in Franklin, TN, worked as an ambulance driver and attended John C. Gupton School of Mortuary Science. All the while the good Lord was behind the scenes molding the future Career of Larry Scott. While in Nashville he soaked up the music business like a fresh sponge and he hung out places like the Grand Ole Opry, The Ernest Tubb record shop, Tootsie’s Orchid lounge, meeting everyone who were part of Country music.

 

After embalming school in Nashville he returned home to KBTN in Neosho and pursue his mortuary career. Soon after, he got a call from AL Brumley, Jr. and Al told him if he ever wanted to be anything in the entertainment business he had to get out of Missouri and head to the West Coast. He packed his bags and to California he went. After all, that is where dreams can come true.

 

He landed in Bakersfield and began working at KUZZ country radio and was an instant hit. He met and became lifelong friends with great entertainers such as Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, Roger Miller, Red Steagall, Billy Mize and countless others. Not only was Larry an on-air personality but had a gospel television show to boot.

 

He left KUZZ to be program director at KVEG in Las Vegas. He left Vegas after a short time and came to KBOX in DALLAS IN 1966 to make it the first 24 hour country music station in the DFW metroplex. There he formed another life-long friendship with Bill Ward. Larry asked Bill if he would like to go to the Coast and Bill jumped at the opportunity. In June 1967, Bill left KBOX and went to KBBQ in Burbank, CA taking Larry with him. When the owner of KBBQ passed away and the station sold. Bill had made the move earlier to the 50,000 watt power house KLAC in Los Angeles. Bill hired Larry and sent him to WIL in Saint Louis to gain more experience. While there he was honored to be the color man with esteemed play by play announcer Harry Carey. His heart was in LA and he made another journey to the coast and stepped behind the microphone at KLAC in Los Angeles. Within a year he was voted the 2nd most popular Disc Jockey in LA. The Academy of Country Music voted him 4 times for radio personality of the year between 1968 and 1974 as well as KLAC being the best country music station. While at KLAC he started the first all night Interstate road show called the Phantom 570 club that boasted over 8000 members in 1975. Country Radio ruled Southern California and sitting at the helm was Larry Scott.

 

On July 20, 1974, he married Gail Watson and on May 16, 1975, she gave birth to their only child, Kelly. In December of 1975 Larry and the family moved to Wichita, KS to KFDI with his friend Mike Oatman and Great Empire Broadcasting. If you remember earlier in this story I mentioned Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Dad had three loves besides Mom and I. They were gospel, country and Western Swing. Bob Wills had passed away May 13, 1975, 3 days prior to my birth. The band was without their leader and were still loved. Larry and Mike had common roots in western swing and they took the reins to preserve and promote that one of a kind sound. They booked them at the Cotillion Ball Room in Wichita. There the revitalization of the Texas Playboys began.

 

In September 1977, Larry accepted the program director job at KJJJ in Phoenix, AZ. So once again the happy caravan loaded up and were westward bound. Larry spent less than a year in Phoenix and found himself back at KLAC in Los Angeles where he continued blazing his own road into music history.

 

In 1979 the owners of Metro Media sent him to Dallas once again but this time to KRLD. Larry moved the family to Texas and found a home and land in Kaufman County. Whether he knew it or not roots were planted firmly as Mom was a native Texan and told him she would support him 100% but was not moving again. Dad agreed as he had a deep love for Mom and Texas as the qualities in each were the same, thus began his weekly commute to LA.

 

He was at KRLD until the fall of 1980 when their format changed from music to all talk. KLAC called again. He commuted DAL-LAX (Dallas—LosAngeles) until 1982. Radio was changing in LA and KLAC changed its format from country to top 40. He left LA and Mike Oatman called again, this time to KWKH which was the esteemed Louisiana Hayride, in Shreveport, LA. He continued the all night interstate road show for 14 years. In late 1998, KWKH was sold and he went to another Great Empire Broadcasting Station, KVOO Tulsa, again commuting. After some years there he partially retired from radio. He still recorded syndicated shows from his studio at his Lucky G Studio as well as continue promoting the Texas Playboys and younger artists who were continuing the legacy of Western Swing, good country music and cowboy music.

 

In 1984 he was inducted into the Country Music Disc Jockey Hall of Fame in Nashville, in 1999 The Texas Country Music Hall of Fame, The Academy of Western Artists, The Texas Western Swing Hall of Fame, The Texas Gospel Music association Hall of Fame 2007, four time Disc Jockey of the Year for the Academy of Country Music and honored as Disc Jockey Large Market 1980 for the Country Music Association. He was a charter member of the Academy of Country Music and The Gospel Music Association. He was also instrumental in the founding of the Academy of Country Music with 8 others.

 

I can tell you this with certainty. This short synopsis of his life does not come close to doing him justice. Despite all the accolades and fame he received over the years, he was the most humble, down to earth person you would ever want to know. In the beginning Albert E Brumley gave him a piece of advice he carried throughout his entire life. Albert said “If you never get far from the folks, then you will never be too far from the main stream”. Dad was grateful God gifted him with the ability to make people happy. He emceed gospel, country and swing shows across the US. Over the years he touched more lives and helped countless careers than even he knew. He was a gentle and kind man, great husband, wonderful father and most important a devout Christian. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that he is with our heavenly Father right now. As our dear friend and first pastor. Dr. Dick Sisk, when we moved to Texas said weeks before his death, “I have no doubt whatsoever that Larry’s last breath on earth will be his first in Heaven”. Dad, Mom and I will miss you more than anyone can imagine but we revel in the fact that we will see you again in Glory. Thank you for doing more than existing in Life but in leaving a legacy that made a difference. As you said so many times, “that ole clock on the wall says it’s time to go, so until the next time we meet have a great day, Goodnight and God Bless.”

 

A celebration of Larry’s life will be held by the family at a later date where these, and many more accomplishments and memories, will be joyfully shared together by every one whose lives he touched.

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Death of Kenneth Boehme—Iola Indians 1951

www.legacy.com/obituaries/nky/obituary.aspx?n=Kenneth-W-B...

 

Kenneth W. Boehme, devoted husband of 52 years of Jean Boehme (nee Trischler), loving father of Ken (Cathy) Boehme, Karen (Brian) Cromer, Billy (Jean Bohl) Boehme and cherished grandfather of Alex, Paul, Greg, Brian, Kayla, Billy and Mikey. Also survived by many caring relatives and friends. Ken was a Korean War Veteran, former Vice President of Ohio Knife Company, a member of West Point and Air Force Academy Parents Clubs, professional baseball player for the Cincinnati Reds and the New York Yankees, a member of KOM Minor League Hall of Fame, and a longtime Baseball coach for St. Antoninus Parish. Died July 13, 2016 age 84. Visitation Tuesday 9 AM at St. Antoninus Church, 1500 Linneman Road, followed by the celebration of the Mass of Christian Burial 10:30 AM. In lieu of flowers, remembrances may be made to Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation, 383 Main Ave, 5th fl, Norwalk, CT 06851 or Cincinnati VA Medical Center., 3200 Vine St, Cincinnati, OH 45220. www.meyergeiser.com.

Published in the Kentucky Enquirer on July 17, 2016

 

Ed note:

 

I learned of Kenny’s death very late in the process of preparing this report and will thus didn’t have time to pay full tribute to a gentleman I liked very much. I direct your attention to a statement in his obituary. Bet not many people ever heard of “The KOM Minor League Hall of Fame.” Possibly, in the next edition of this publication I can explain it. For those of you who don’t know the name of Boehme he gained his fame with the 1951 Iola Indians

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Death of Jerry Ronald Gleason—Iola Indians pitcher 1952

 

Any time the telephone rings after 7:00 p.m. I’m almost sure it is a robo-call from some politician or a computer “expert” in Bangladesh wanting to fix the problem with my computer. You have all heard that kind of stuff.

 

On July 11 I had an evening call and I almost hung up on the caller until he told me his name was Larry Flottman. He was the twin batboy for the Iola Indians, in 1952 along with Martin Wright. The numbers they wore on their uniforms were 0 and 00 respectively. Flottman didn’t call for the expressed purpose of telling me his birthday but managed to get it in. He wanted to know who was the oldest between us and I admitted I must be. However, he will celebrate his 77th birth anniversary July 12th (now past) and mine doesn’t come for another four months and 15 days. What a relief to know that I’m not the oldest living former KOM league batboy.

 

Flottman called to ask if I knew about Jerry Ronald Gleason. I told him the last time I saw him was in 2008 at a KOM reunion in Iola. He told me that Gleason had moved back to Colorado and died in Wheatridge on April 22, 2016. A period of about a month passed between his death and funeral. Not much information was contained in his obituary. He was born October 25, 1933 in Lincoln, Nebraska. He was signed by Bob Howsam of the Denver Bears and sent to Iola for the 1952 season along with Charles Sisson, Victor Damon and a couple of other “hopefuls.” Gleason was a tall, slender right-handed pitcher. His 6’ 6” height placed him in the top three of the tallest players ever to appear in a KOM league game. The others were Bernie Tye and John “Beanstalk” Hurley. Hurley was 6” 7” and Tye was 6’ 6 ½ .”

 

Gleason pitched late in in 1951 at Hopkinsville, Kentucky. After his 1952 season in the KOM league he was with Lubbock, Texas in the Longhorn league in 1953. In 1954 he spent time with Denver in the Western and Lubbock, in the Longhorn leagues. In 1955 he pitched for Clovis, New Mexico in the West Texas-New Mexico league and then took a sabbatical in 1956-57 by serving in the U. S. Army. He pitched the last time in 1958 with Amarillo, Texas of the Western and Lewiston of the Northwest league s.

 

During the 2008 KOM reunion, Jerry and his wife Jane, attended a number of sessions and it was great making his acquaintance.

 

The following is his brief obituary.

 

Jerry R. Gleason, 82, of Wheat Ridge. Husband of Jane Gleason. Father of David Gleason, Bill (Deanne) Gleason and of the late Jeffrey Gleason. Brother of Jim Gleason and Sally Burnside. Also survived by six granddaughters and eleven great-grandchilden. Graveside service and inurnment Friday May 20th, 2:00 PM., Mt. Olivet Cemetery. Contributions may be made to The Denver Hospice. - See more at: www.legacy.com/obituaries/denverpost/obituary.aspx?n=jerr...

 

Due to the death of Jerry Gleason his team photo is featured on the Flickr site for this Flash Report. www.flickr.com/photos/60428361@N07/28290057236/

The guys in that photo are: Front Row: Martin Wright and Larry Flottman batboys. Second Row: Cecil Parks, Wayne Baker, Gasper del Toro, Tom Guinn, Woody Fair and Joe Vilk. Third Row: Paul “Cowboy” Weeks. Roy Coulter, Bill Schrier, Bus Hoffman and Chuck Sisson. Fourth Row: Jack Hasten Bill Wigle, John Brkich, Jerry Gleason and Ed Wilson.

 

It would be fairly easy to write a term paper or maybe a doctoral thesis regarding this team. Yours truly could write the term paper but Larry Flottman would be the guy to write the thesis. He spent an entire summer with these guys and has many tales he could tell but like most batboys, he wouldn’t. The guys in this photo were Canadian (2), Cuban (1), citizens of Carthage, MO (2), another guy in the photo became a drug enforcement agent, one became a priest in the Catholic Church and another was a Texan who married a girl from rural Carthage, MO. Yours truly even had visits from two members of that team in my home and another I visited in his. Another member of that team worked for the same company I did at one time but our paths never crossed. On the “too bad” side of the coin one member of this team took his own life due to depression over a very sick wife and another consumed alcohol at too fast a rate and died very young.

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Russell White Iola Cubs pitcher--1946

 

A few weeks ago I shared the following in a Flash Report and shortly thereafter I located Russell White and have since spoken with him and his wife and have corresponded, by e-mail, with their daughter, Shawna.

 

Recent Flash Report comment

 

This following newspaper clips was all I knew about him until a recent ’stab in the dark.”

 

May 9, 1946--The Iola baseball team gained a new right-handed pitcher yesterday with the arrival from the west coast of Russell White, whose home.is at Long Branch, Wash. He has been with the Chicago Cubs Visalia, Calif. team of the Class C California league this spring. He is 20 years old.

 

After sharing that clip with Shawna she contacted me again and said. “John, sorry to bother you yet again, but below in the report you had mentioned that a newspaper clip was all you knew about my dad until your stab in the dark -- Do you have a copy of the newspaper clip or do you know in what newspaper this story was in?” Thanks Shawna

 

Ed reply:

 

Glad you got in touch. I was wondering if you were still reading the material. That article appeared in the May 9, 1946 edition of the Iola, Kansas Register. I don't have the original clip. What I do is pull up the Iola Register on Newspapers. It is available to access by subscription but I don't subscribe for I'd go broke trying to subscribe to so many papers. You can pull those editions up on the Internet and you can see each one in optical character recognition format. They take some deciphering but it can be done.

 

Shawna’s reply:

 

I hate to say, but like I mentioned I am printing the report off - not sure if they read on the computer - being as they aren't real computer people, that it why I decided to print the report out -- and I have been slacking -- shame on me -- but I did print out the one that mentions dad and he carries that around with him everywhere and lets people read it -- it has really brought some joy into his old life -- Thank you for taking that "Stab in the Dark" --

 

I will say, I did get the ones that I have received copied off now and will deliver this weekend for the folks to start reading - I know they will enjoy them - memories of baseball is good times for dad -- but also sad times - as you know --

 

I will try to find the article - will give me a challenge --

 

Bless you and look forward to continuing to receive and I will do a better job at getting them printed out and to the folks for their reading pleasure Shawna

 

A reminder

 

When you’re all alone and feeling blue and have nothing else to do let me suggest …well, maybe my advice wouldn’t work, come to think of it. However, I have a cure for those who write to tell me they have lost the last Flash Report. Can anything be worse than that? In the past a link has been shared that when you access it there are scores of previous Flash Reports at your fingertips or fingertip if you only use one.

 

Here is that site once more: www.flickr.com/search/?text=KOM%20League%20Flash

Whenever you see a photo on that link all you have to do is click on it and a Flash Report is contained below. There should be enough reading material there to last as long as the two bottles of Lowrey’s seasoning salt I purchased last week. When the grocer asked if I needed anything else I told him that much seasoning salt will last me “from now until the great hereafter.”

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From Miami News-Record

 

Will have you a story on Mickey Mantle Day activities in Oklahoma City yesterday. Sports editor Dannie Oliveaux went down and is working on a story. He talked to the boys and several other people who were there. It's part of a Mantle exhibit at the Oklahoma History Center in OKC. Jim Ellis—Editor, Miami News-Record

 

Ed note:

 

This is the site where the article is located: www.miamiok.com/sports/20160709/sons-share-stories-about-... There are a number of pages to this story so be sure to click on each of them

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Nothing goes unnoticed.

 

When writing any Flash Report I attempt to drop as many names, places and things as possible. That is done due to having so few readers that I’ll go to extremes, with impossible schemes just to awaken a memory in someone. In doing the story of Charles Yerbic of the “spring” 1951 Carthage Cubs I threw in a reference to a radio station for the expressed purpose of awakening a memory. Here is a note from Jerry Hogan in Fayetteville, Arkansas. “When Mr. Starwyck was writing his letter from KGRH here in Fayetteville I was 5 1/2 years old and lived just a few blocks away from the station. By the fall of 1951, when I started first grade, we lived only about two long blocks from KGRH. I remember visiting the station one time around then. Now I wonder if I may have met Mr. Starwyck without even knowing it! Also, thanks for ID'ing all the Baxter Springs kids. I didn't think I saw The Mick in the group and figured it was too early for him but it was good to get the confirmation in your listing of the players, batboy and such. “

 

Hogan concluded by saying “Proof again that I'm reading all the KOM Flash Reports but just not always commenting on them!☺”

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Another targeted reader

 

In last week’s report there was a listing of guys who showed up at Carthage, Mo. in the spring of 1951. I identified one of the guys this way.

James Kenneth Grubb

Born: 12/3/1926 Kankakee, Ill

Died: 1/8/1960 Chicago, Ill

Married Shirley Jean Alexander at Edwardsville, Ill. in 1950. She lived until 2007.

Paris, Ill begged Carthage to release Grubb to them in the spring of1951 and they did and he won 15 games for them.

Having died just short of his 34th birthday raises a question I can’t answer. Maybe someone out there knows the details of his death. (Ed note: That is a subtle hint to baseball necrologist, Jack Morris to work his magic on “My Heritage.”)

 

Shortly, I had the following note from Jack Morris. “John, I bet you were wondering how closely I read your Flash Reports - I guess pretty closely. Attached is James Grubb's obit. Not much there but it's clear that he died from something along the lines of cancer.”

 

From the Edwardsville, Intelligencer in Edwarsville, Ill. the obituary appeared on January 8, 1960 on page 2. It read “James Kenneth Grubb, 33 of Kankakee, husband of the former Shirley Jean Alexander and son-in-law of Mr. and Mrs. E. L. Alexander of Edwardsville, died Friday at 12:35 p. m. at Billings Hospital in Chicago following an illness of the past three months. Funeral plans are indefinite.”

 

Following a little more research I learned the Grubb was an elementary school teacher, in Kankakee at the time of his passing. In a note to Jack Morris I wondered if that occupation precipitated a short life span.

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Yerbic not remembered by teammate

 

Unless a fellow played with a ball club for a while very few of his teammates remember him. I shared the obituary of Charles Yerbic who was vying for a roster spot for the 1951 Carthage Cubs with Walt Babcock who was doing likewise. Here was Babcock’s response. “I never knew he existed until today. Thanks for keeping me up-to-date on such things.”

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Health update

 

Many e-mails are received asking if I have heard from “so and so” and if so, how are they doing. In recent weeks I’ve shared the information with those asking about Sam Dixon that he has been having a tough time. One person with whom that information was shared was Casey Casebolt who played American Legion Baseball for Dixon.

 

He shared a note received from Sam’s daughter that I’m quoting. “Thanks so much for the email. Dad is doing well now but we almost lost him two weeks ago. Right now he is in the Transitional Care Unit at Lawrence Memorial Hospital. We have a care team meeting in a few hours. He is doing better than he has in several months so I anticipate his release tomorrow.

 

I know he would love to hear from you and anyone else! It is true, his eyesight is failing so he doesn’t read much of anything, including email. So phone calls are best. He is usually gone from 10:00 to 3:30 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for dialysis. Otherwise he is usually there. Just a warning, his hearing is only slightly better than his eyesight!

 

Please share this and my contact information with his buddies. I try to leave a voice mail on his phone so people will know how to get information when he is in the hospital or skilled nursing. I am happy to answer emails. I always print them out for him although I read them to him.

 

Thanks so much for contacting me.”

 

Karen Dixon

kdixon@sunflower.com

785-979-5388

 

Ed note:

 

On the afternoon of July 9th I called Sam and he was at home. He was in good spirits but told me that two weeks ago he had one foot in the grave. He said his doctor told him that after the fact. Sam has always been a good talker but if anyone calls him try to limit the length of the conversation. That is enough advice from this source, for now.

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John Hall is finally explained

 

A couple of years ago or so, I became friends with a sports writer/blogger out of Little Rock named E. D. (Name withheld to protect the innocent) E. D. has a wide range of interests in sports but one area he's particularly interested in are black sports teams in the Arkansas-Missouri area that played back in segregation days. I've found a number of items for him in our local paper. He's a very decent, sincere guy and he ran into an online feature about you in the KC paper and wanted to know if I happened to know you. Hello! Just since basically Day 1 of my own baseball research. Anyway, as you can see in the e-mail exchange we had below, he would like to contact you if you're okay with that.

 

Let me know if it's alright and I will give him your e-mail address or if you prefer you could contact E. D. - his address is in the following e-mail.

 

Thanks, Jerry Hogan—Fayetteville, Ark.

 

P.S. I hope you're okay with the description of you that I sent E. D..

 

Hogan’s description of the editor of this publication.

 

I've known John Hall for at least 15 years. We've never met but we communicate via e-mail very frequently. John is a few years older than I am and is an outstanding baseball researcher. He's originally from Carthage, MO but has lived in Columbia ever since I've known him. He's self-published several books including Majoring in the Minors (which has a section on the Ark. State/Ark-Mo League and the reason we became baseball/internet friends) and a bio on Mickey Mantle. His main emphasis is on the Kansas-Oklahoma-Missouri (KOM) League, which he considers as sort of a follow on to the old Arkie-Mo. Just about every week, he puts out a KOM Flash Report by e-mail and on Flickr. He knows the whereabouts and what became of virtually every player who ever suited up in the old KOM. The flash report, these days, almost always includes 2-3 obituaries of players. The ballpark in Carthage, where the teams from the Ark-Mo and KOM played is still standing and it has a plaque to John on the outside - near the entrance I think.

 

So, there you go. That's who John Hall is!

 

Talk to you later, Jerry

 

Ed reply:

 

Sounds good to me. I never saw but two entirely black teams in my life other than the KC Monarchs and Indianapolis Clowns. I did see a reference one time that when Carthage folded after their Ark/Mo days their uniforms were taken over by the Carthage Rockets. The only name I recall who would have played for that team would have been the late Claude “Feller” Redmond.

 

I never knew Joplin had a black football team. I wonder who they played? They would have had to have done a lot of traveling.

 

I hope so. When I thought of Joplin and black teams the one guy whose name that stands out is Alton Clay. He played for everybody in the area, even at Baxter Springs. Many guys who talk about Clay placed him head and shoulders above anyone who ever played in the four state area and they ranged from the Boyers to the Mantles and everyone in between.

 

Clay was a big man who always warned opposing catchers to get as far from the plate as possible for he had a horrific back swing. He knocked out a few catchers in his day.

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Once again we come to the best part of any of these reports—the end. Just for fun I’d like to know if I’m only preparing these things for my own amusement. I think that the story on Larry Scott should be a test of that question. Since he was on the radio in places like Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Texas, Arizona, Nevada and California I’d like to hear from anyone who thinks they may have heard him. I suspect I won’t hear from anyone under 60 years of age for obvious reasons and I might not hear from anyone older than that since they have most likely forgotten. Anyway, let me hear from you. As I walked through my flower patch this morning a vehicle stopped in the middle of the street and a voice rang out “Go Cubs.” I shouted back “They still have time to blow it.” Back came the retort “This is their year to win it.” And as the vehicle headed into the morning sunrise the last words I heard were “Keep the reports coming.” I guess that must of have been someone on the mailing list. If you can drive by my house and shout out words of encouragement like that , that’s great. Most of you can’t. So, if you wish to keeping reading stuff like this drop me a note and some material I can include in the next report.

  

Inbetween the heavy winds during the cyclone on 1-22-11. Imagine this forlorn creature singing the Rolling Stones song "Gimme Shelter", then take a look at the video on the right.

 

POEM PARKING LOT

 

MOONLIGHT

 

Moonlight softens a multitude of sins.

Glows delicately, soft, not blazing, just

Reflecting. Shines a gentler light on things.

Reminds us that we’re not really as hard

As we pretend. Let the fragile side of

Yourself out of its shell, enjoy the night

Sky’s splendor. Make time for someone

Special to you. Moonlight reminds us

How precious calm can be, that we

Needn’t spend each moment in a flurry.

How we’re meant to do more than just

Fight our way through existence, either

Conquering or breaking free. Sometimes

It’s clear how all this conflict is just so

Much invention, mostly needless. Leave

All of that alone for now. Let moonlight

Remind you how in the midst of all we

Resist there’s still a natural wonder it’s

No sin to give in to.

 

HOT PLATE

 

That which can’t be spoken of in honorable

Terms. That which has been declared off-

Limits, old business, trashed, abused,

Treated like something of no value. No use.

Responsibility dropped like a hot plate that

Ought to shatter but doesn’t. Hear it clang

Like an unwanted gong ringing awareness

You haven’t forgotten and never will. Try

Harder? Smash it to pieces like you wish

You could smash the pain into dust for the

Next wind? Passionate as it might appear,

Destroying plates as some kind of display

Seems so undignified. Unnecessary to

Victimize the kitchenware. Angrily, sadly,

This kitchen reeks of indignity already, and

It’s not the dishes’ fault. Silly old fashioned

Me, I thought we were supposed to value

That which doesn’t break.

 

SEEDS

 

A burger would look barmy claiming to

Be a cow. Potatoes grow in the ground,

Not potato chips. Oranges grow in

Florida, but orange juice comes from

A factory. Metal comes from the earth,

But your car, mostly metal, didn’t just

Drive up from some garage under the

Surface. That laptop facilitating your

Interaction with the world is mostly

Plastic, which comes these days from

Corn, but nobody credits the corn for

Social networking. The whole point is

No matter who or what we come from,

Life changes us into something separate,

Distinct, different, new called ourselves.

When this happens with natural things,

We say it’s so great, but when it happens

With people, for some it’s a sign of the

End times. Maybe not all transformation

Is good, but can you think of anything

Worse than none at all? So we needn’t

See ourselves as betrayers if we stray

From our roots – that’s what seeds do.

It’s moving forward, not ending. Worry

Not, beloved sisters and brothers, time

Won’t end till you’ve paid off your debts,

Which we all know will never happen.

 

UGLY

 

You say my poems sound like they’re

Afraid to go somewhere ugly? As if

Ugliness, that decreasingly vague

Sense of threat, needs any more

Expression – just turn on the news.

Watch people struggling, starving,

Stealing, raping, destroying, killing

For no good reason, but our steady

Diet of violence has made us numb

To others suffering. Ugly enough?

Certain social entities want you

Convinced the world’s a dangerous

And ugly place, because conveniently

They have a solution to sell you,

Provided you sign up for their program.

Fear and ugliness do good business,

So they’d prefer you forget there’s

A way that’s free. You don’t need a

Program to appreciate beauty.That’s

All someone like me tries to remind

People of. Ugliness is the wolf at

My door, and my means or resistance

Is to reach all I can for harmony before

I’m consumed too by some ugly hunger.

In the midst of so much ugliness,

Embracing what’s beautiful is almost

An act of subversion. I want to subvert,

With a passion.

 

INVENT

 

When you invent me in your mind as

Someone you can’t trust, can’t open

Up to, can’t reach out to, can’t relate

To, can’t use period, it’s too bad you’re

Not writing for Hollywood. When you

Assume a whole ideology, value system,

Attitude, belief, sensibility and you

Attribute it to me without even asking,

That’s an astounding leap of faith and

Confidence in your own convictions

I wish you’d save for your religion.

Good thing you’re not as convinced

You can walk on water or part the

Red Sea as you are that you have me

All figured out.

 

REASONS

 

Some reasons are like weeds, you think

You’re rid of them but the just spring

Back up. The longer you leave them the

More they take over. Dealing with them

Is the price you pay for having a garden.

I guess you’d classify this type of reason

As doubts. Other reasons are like trees,

Standing tall no matter what nasty acts

Of nature take place. With age, they

Attain a certain height, and can shelter

Other living things. I guess you’d refer

To this type of reason as faith. Stranger

Reasons are like cactus, living where

Most life would die, protecting what’s

Precious under sharp thorns but unable

To reach out or be reached without

Hurting. If you want to reach them, it’s

Going to hurt. I can’t decide whether

To call these reasons cynicism, damages,

Or life insurance. Maybe all three.

 

SO PURE

 

I really should resolve to market

Myself more effectively. Problem is,

I’ve got this deep seated conviction

That it’s classier to just give things

Away. This sort of begs the question

As to whether anyone genuinely

Values that which they’re just given.

So tell me, would you take my poetry

More seriously if you had to pay for it?

Think carefully – my future creativity

Could be riding on your answer. And

Truthfully, the only reason I need

Money is to stop worrying about it.

So how is it I’m not prospering

When my intentions are so pure?

 

TRADE SECRET

 

Do you wonder where all these

Poems come from? Well, it’s

Simple. I have a Good Angel on

One shoulder and a Bad Angel

On the other, both vying for

My attention, to be the one

Taken seriously, establish

Credibility, each whispering

Profound, provocative, pure,

Soily, sacred, profane, mystical,

Physical, sexual, intellectual,

Spiritual, selfless, selfish, true,

False, angry, forgiving, gentle,

Devoted, demented, violent,

Me me me and you you you

Influences on my outlook from

Moment to moment. Poems

Are what’s left over when the

Crossfire momentarily ceases.

 

HOMES

 

I feel at home in more than one place.

There’s the home where I was born, the

Home where I live, and the homes I’ve

Discovered and return to when I can.

No ambivalence about my citizenship,

But I’ve left a little bit of myself and

Taken with me something from all the

Different places I’ve called home, even

If only for a few days. They’re all part of

Me now, regardless of where my feet

Kick back at any moment, just like you

Don’t have to be right beside someone

To love them deeply, even if you wish

You could be. That’s why, contrary to

Appearances, I don’t think of this at all

As an exile.

 

DRAMATIC BAGGAGE

 

Maybe I was left in front of the TV

At too early an age. I didn’t just

Watch the shows, I felt them too.

(What else is a good show supposed

To make you do?) That’s my earliest

Impression of human conflict and

Resolution. Now I wonder whether

Unconsciously I still expect everything

To be too black and white like our old

TV, too cut and dried. In theory I’m

Aware of complexity, but emotionally

It’s a different story – if my feelings

You’re engaged, you’re either a hero

Or a villain. Villains must be punished

Or defeated for heroes to come out

Shining before the last commercial. I

Know that’s distorted, but we don’t

Just think about people, we feel them

Too. So if you’re going to get dramatic,

Know that all it does is warm the tubes

Of my old TV feelings that never leave,

Just leave more dramatic baggage than

I know how to handle. As a child, to me

Everyone on TV seemed so much more

Alive, but involvement with them was

Just something you could always turn

Off anytime you liked.

 

TRAVELING

 

Traveling is my freedom and my prison,

My choice as well as my inescapable

Fate. Like a shark starts to fade if it

Doesn't circulate, I need to move. In

The shadows between one location

And the next, there's somewhere all

Is still, my only moments of peace.

It's not just arriving, not just leaving,

But the movement between that keeps

The weeds and vines from encircling,

Enclosing. Can you ever really be

Close to someone who won't stay

Put? Yes. Be a partner, not an

Anchor.

 

WHAT A DOG

 

Dog with a bone can’t let go. For all

He knows, it’s dog nirvana. Canine

Heaven made flesh (or in this case

Bone). Never seen him so fully

Committed, or willing to lay down

His life to protect what’s so precious

To him. Never seen him so happy,

Wagging his tail at its sight, gamboling

Like he thinks he’s a lamb, savoring its

Taste, aroused by its scent, licking

Tongue expressing the depths of his

Affection, barking baritone love songs

Of faith and devotion. Playing with it

Like each moment they have together

Is golden. Makes you wonder how they

Ever did without one another. They’re

Partners till he’s gnawed the last of

The marrow from its insides. When

It loses its special appeal, dog thinks

Nothing of moving on to the next one.

What a dog.

 

DREAMS

 

In their isolation, inhabitants of tiny

Islands, known to and knowing only

Themselves, weave mythologies that

Map their location as the center of

The universe, of creation, of time.

Dwarves who don’t know better

Think they’re giants. Same with

Dreams – won’t acknowledge limits

If they don’t have to, sometimes

Growing big enough to think they

Can depose reality. Poor dreamer,

Then, what mutiny must brew in

Your soul. For we know how reality

Has taken many a battering, but

Always is the one left standing

Because dreams seldom outlive

The dreamers. Through rebellion

Is more romantic, at least in teen

Novels, dreams might do better to

Treat reality more politely, to make

Their pleas free of expectation reality

Will listen, just with a humble hope

Reality might point the way to truth

Just as real as it was in your dream.

 

GUESS

 

No more guesses. Nothing brings on

A flood of bad emotions like feeling

With all your being that you’re right

Then realizing you’ve simply guessed

Wrong. Maybe the more something

Means to you personally the less

Clearly you can really see it. There’s

A time to be objective, and a time to

Follow your heart and dive right in.

Too bad sometimes we can only

Guess which is which. I feel like I

Dove into a pool that turned out to

Be empty. The water was imaginary,

Unlike the concrete. So please, don’t

Expect me to guess. If you want me

To believe you, first believe in what

You want to convey enough to say it

Face to face.

 

BEATNIK MOSQUITOES

 

Poems are like mosquitoes drunk on the

Blood of a nicotine addict such as moi,

Haphazardly careening in circular flight,

Their mission - inner space exploration,

Little bitty buzzings sounding like jazz

Saxophones soundtracking beatnik

Free verse, these insect Allen Ginsburgs,

Improvising wildly like a Dixieland band.

Jazz poetry from beatnik mosquitoes

Drunk on my blood - how beautiful!

 

SLAP

 

Poems are like mosquitoes, flying

Around sucking on people’s feelings,

Spreading disease, making you

Itch, disrupting your sleep,

Inspiring a good slap or two.

 

WHEN WE WERE NORMAL

 

Inter-generational conflict rendered

Me less than at my best for a long time.

I resigned myself to the reality that my

Elders were clueless and my peers were

Crazy. By necessity, I kept a foot in both

Camps, but my head and heart were

Somewhere else. It’s all cooled off by

Now, but the cynicism I got from the

Bad years has stayed with me like an

Unwanted tattoo. Worse is the feeling

That while now-meaningless battles

Consumed our thoughts, something

Slipped by us. We still see the world

Like we did when we were normal,

But that was a long, long time ago.

 

POOR OLD ROBOT

 

Poor old robot from a second hand

Robot store. Can’t find your parts

Anymore, can’t find your owner.

Poor old robot, feeling outmoded,

Knowing your warranty expired

Yesterday but refusing to just sit

Around and decay. Poor old robot,

All your friends in the junkyard,

Sadly mute, reminding you of a

More animated past. Poor old

Robot, wanting to be helpful but

Only speaking Chinese, confusing

The elderly and frightening the

Young. Poor old robot, short-circuiting

Your own speakers issuing distorted

Robot moans about how nobody

Appreciates you, sounding more

Annoying than rap (in Chinese)

Through a broken boom box. Poor

Old robot, voice of every invention

First coveted greedily then tossed

Aside casually as soon as there’s a

Newer version. Poor old robot,

Wishing you could take your metallic

Hands and throttle whoever saddled

You with this limited lifespan. Poor

Old robot, I want to shoot you just

To shut you up, but you look at me

With those tortured robot eyes and

It scares me how easily I can relate.

 

DUSK

 

Dusk, and the day’s content to let

Its light relax and fade. There’s

Still work to be done, but for now

That’s enough. Now day and night,

Opposites but still ideal partners,

Do their changing of the guard at

Dusk. Then the light disappears,

No one knows where to and no

One asks. After all it does for us,

It’s entitled to its privacy. There’s

A time to shine as bright as you can,

And a time to do nothing more than

Enjoy being alive. In the long run,

It’s the steadiness that counts,

Finding a comfortable rhythm that

Won’t grind you down. Day and

Night split their time equally. We

Should learn from that balance.

 

DEVIL’S TOOLS

 

During the bad years I was judged

Constantly, even for things I’d never

Actually done. No one can justify

Another’s pretensions, no matter

How well-intended, but there was

Still some expectation the prodigal

Son might turn out to be a golden

Boy after all. When that didn’t

Happen, they imagined the worst.

Someone’s anger stings no less

Just because you know it’s based

On a mistake – the real sting is

What they’d believe about you.

Wrong ideas, in the minds of

People firmly convinced they

Can’t be anything but right, are

The devil’s tools for dismantling

Families.

 

AUSTIN

 

Take me with you back to Austin – I’m not

Understood here, much less appreciated.

Here, I have to sing in a language I can’t

Speak. In Austin, I can sing in English, and

I’ll learn as much Spanish as I have to. In

That kind of milieu, they'd more likely take

Me to heart. Here, I get shot down just

For showing I care, and if anyone cares

For me, they’ll be damned before they’d

Admit it. Austin might find me more

Socially acceptable, value my cultural

Contribution more highly than my home

Town Lilliputians. Plus I’ll make you money –

Be my manager. Austin’s feminist enough

For a woman Colonel Parker. I can be like

Your Mexican, except I’m a citizen. So it

Makes perfect sense economically, socially,

Emotionally and culturally that you take

Me with you back to Austin, home of the

Armadillo. I really can do better, but not

Here, where every time I open my mouth

I remind everyone they didn’t invent music.

 

INOTE: You know who Colonel Parker is, right? In case you're clueless, Colonel Parker was Elvis' manager. See, reading my poems is very educational.)

 

CALI PHONE YA

 

I will miss you, sprawling industrial district.

You too, cold winds at night. You too,

Mall after mall, all the same stores. You

Too, people everywere on cells, lost in

One way conversations for all appearances.

You too, healthy, skinny, multi-ethnic

Residients reminding me to diet. You too,

Radio where they play what they like,

Acoustic western swing for cruising. You

Too, old people acting young. You too,

Redemption tickets at Indian gambling

Palaces, payback for white wrongs. You

Too, taquerias on wheels, food names I

can't pronounce. You too, tall eucalyptus

Straddling the highway. California, land of

Great distances. Spent half my time here

Driving. Almost always worth it. A week

Here is like a month at home. Gotta say

Bye before I flame out, die of fun.

 

IN FRONT OF STORES

 

In old Samoa they would sit around

The fire at night. Now boys sit in front

Of stores from twilight till closing time.

One of the side effects of society based

On industry and wages is boys with

Nowhere better to go than bus stops

Or store parking lots. They have homes

They can’t go to, parents they can’t be

Around. What kind of adults will they

Become, growing up feeling like home

And family have to be avoided? For the

Sake of our future, every adolescent

Should be asked to think about the

Questions: what should a family be,

And how does it turn into something

You want to run from?

 

STICKS AND LEAVES

 

Once upon a time the two had a

Mansion. One they didn’t have to

Earn, but came to them naturally.

Then, for reasons that vary

Depending on who’s explaining,

Their mansion lay in ruins. What

Are their options? They could say,

It doesn’t matter, we’ll make a

Shelter of sticks and leaves, and it

Will do as long as we’re together,

Or they could turn their attention

Separately to other mansions that

Just happen to have an empty room

And role they could easily fill. Sounds

Cold, I know, but you’d be surprised

How many would go for it given the

Circumstances. One day you may

Have to choose between insisting

On the mansion class at any cost,

Or accepting when you have

Nothing but sticks and leaves left

With someone, and saying it’s a

Start, not the end.

 

WALL

 

Quite a big wall to keep out

Just one person, don’t you

Think? Oh right, the wall’s

Not for me, not a message.

It’s for vampires, werewolves,

Traveling salesmen, Santa,

Elves, reindeer, postmen

With colds and girls scouts

Trying to push their cookies

On you. What’s sad about

Walls is what can’t get out,

Not just what can’t get in.

What if a rainbow ends on

The other side, with a pot

Of gold that’s yours for the

Taking, but you can’t get

Over your own wall?

 

ROADRUNNER

 

Too fast to be caught, never held

Back, I wanted to be Roadrunner.

A life of highways to explore at full

Speed. Grant me the freedom to

Travel and I’m happy. Take it all in,

And take off running before you’re

Tied to anything or anyone. Beep,

Beep, moving on. I wanted to be

Roadrunner – life in the fast lane.

Amazing it lasted as long as it did.

Sad I’d finally find someone I’d

Love to run with right when fate

Has forced me to hit the brakes.

It’s clear each time you beep beep

By like you don’t even know me –

I wanted to be Roadrunner, but

Ended up Coyote.

 

DEATH SENTENCE

 

I think I know what’s going to

Kill me – stupidity. Involuntary

Meditative state 24/7 where

The mantra is, “That was stupid.”

Stupidity is relative, therefore

Relatives are stupid.

 

OBJECTS

 

Objects have a history. Objects

Could tell stories, given where

They’ve been and what they’ve

Seen, but instead they must sit

Mute and just watch. Objects

Are a paradox – they’ve never

Had what we’d describe as life

And yet they’ll still be here long

After us, and in fact they’ll be

Here forever until someone

Destroys them. To remember us,

Those still here will preserve our

Objects. But that’s nothing like

The kind of interaction it would

Be with us in person, is it? So

Better interact now, and not be

Shy about it either. It’s sort of

The movements of our akimbo

Limbs, and sort of the yappings

Of our colorful tongues, and

Sort of many other things, but

Mostly it’s the sweet essence

Of life itself that makes us more

Than just objects.

 

DISCLOSURE

 

My own point of view is

Hopelessly biased – there,

I admit it. I put it out there

Anyway because… Well,

Why not? The worst that

Can happen is you think

I’m delusional. Yep, like

Zillions of others, like the

Wavering masses. like

You too in many ways.

The best that can happen

Is that you know we’re

Really thinking the same

Thing, or not far from it.

That means something.

What? I don’t know, it’s

Always still unwritten.

Anything you want, and

Hopefully nothing you

Don’t. Just for the record,

Thank you for your time

And kind attention. That’s

Today’s disclosure.

 

ART FILM

 

Strangest movie you’ve ever seen,

But hey, this is an art film not some

Hollywood product. Human voices

Narrate, but people have no presence

Onscreen. Objects and images stand

As visual metaphors for the story, as if

These better convey something literal

Action or even narration can’t. The

Silhouette of a village sticking up

Through a forest evokes home existing

Only in memory. Railroad tracks and

Nearby debris symbolize childhood

Displacement. Changing light on photos

Indicates the passage of time. Lives are

Represented by bottles floating on

The sea. When its 15 minutes are up,

A buzz in the audience ensues. An

Esteemed panel of judges seems

Speechless, muttering terms like

“Startling”, “innovative”, and “rich in

“Emotion”. The filmmakers just say

That’s what happens when you don’t

Have a budget and you’ve never made

A film, you just really want to, when

You don’t know what you’re doing but

You’re not about to let a minor detail

Like that stop you.

 

TELL OF WONDERS

 

If I could tell of wonders, I’d write

The stories here, not to bring me

Glory by association, but to share

My best. Because this is all I can

Share with you until things change,

The only way I can talk to you. If I

Could tell of wonders, I would, but

Most of my stories are rather

Mundane, just people dealing

With day to day life, sometimes

Discovering themselves through

Each other, sometimes catching

Just a glimpse of something bigger

That ties the mysteries together.

 

THE WORD MUSIC

 

The word music is closely related to

The word muse, the reason why

Writers write. The act of writing is

Seen as petitioning fate to intervene

In the hopes your muse will view you

Favorably. Music does the same with

Sound. Notes carry messages words

Can’t. Music, as a word, is not far

From magic. Music works an alchemy

Of its own - let it in and it'll take you

Somewhere. Resist and you’ll get

Noise instead of enjoyment. In those

Moments when music sings to the

Soul, a meaning you needn’t think

About comes through, as if on an

Invisible wire. It’s an open secret

Known to anyone who listens and

Feels, and doesn’t just analyze in

A vacuum. If music doesn’t prove

There’s magic, it at least reminds

That you get out of something what

You put in.

 

STRAYS

 

Our dogs simply want something

To eat. They were never farmers

In the first place, but hunters

Who’ve forgotten they ever had

That skill, defenders with nothing

Left to defend but the few scraps

They can pilfer from our leftovers.

More often they go hungry in their

Learned dependence on generosity.

They once served a worthwhile

Purpose for someone or other,

Once had a part in our functioning,

But now they’re strays, deprived of

A livelihood. They’d be more than

Happy to work hard for a crumb of

Your kindness just to survive, living

By their wits but unaware of their

Place in the bigger picture, and not

Caring either.

 

DELICATE

 

Can you pull your weeds without

Ruining your garden? Careful, most

Beautiful things are delicate, you

Can’t just slash and burn, as much

As you hate the weeds. Delicate

Things require patience and care,

But look what happiness they bring

Nature is delicate. Life is delicate.

Our deepest feelings are delicate.

How ironic, then, that even apes

Can have more patience and care

Than man, who finds delicacy

Inferior to efficiency, and wants

To slash and burn his way through

Everything, including people.

 

UNLESS YOU’RE THE POPE

 

So, are you convinced you can’t be

Forgiven, or just too proud to ask?

It’s pretty arrogant to forgive

Someone who even hasn’t asked

For it, unless you’re the Pope and

Really in a hurry. And if someone

Has the guts to ask, it’s pretty

Heartless to make them grovel,

Unless you want to convince them

They shouldn’t have bothered.

 

CLUELESS

 

Hey, pretend you’re a priest while

I make a confession – I’m clueless.

My memory’s ok, but as far as

Processing what those memories

Mean, forget it. I’ve been turned

Around more than once, and no

Sooner do I finish feeling dizzy than

I start feeling clueless. Meanings

Seem to have shifted, signs signify

Differently. It’s all unfamiliar again

To me. I’m blank – will you fill me in?

Maybe my sensibilities just reflect

An earlier time with a different

Notion of what doing right means,

A different approach. But in the

Here and know, I know how my

Cluelessness must appear to you

As if the dinosaurs never left.

 

EXPOSED

 

Eyeballs with wings, following us around

As if we’re breaking news, walking sitcoms,

Like our every moment captured can be

Used for selling ads. We’re never wanting

For an audience. Eyeballs with wings,

Posing as innocent bystanders, trying to

Blend in with the birds, swarming in our

Moments of embarrassment like locusts,

Thinking here’s a good one for prime time

Tonight. Eyeballs with wings, all-seeing, no

Heart for understanding. Disdaining eyes,

Ready to bear witness to anything they

Find suspicious. Wish I could shoot them

From the sky, find out if they’re capable

Of tears, but they’re in my head. Eyeballs

With wings, hanging upside down like bats

Outside my bedroom. Even when no one

Wants to know, I still walk around feeling

Exposed.

 

PORTRAIT

 

I suppose if you put all the poems

Together, a certain portrait might

Emerge. An attitude embedded in

The language, values suggested

By the style. But don’t be fooled –

Let an artist paint themselves and

It’ll be the most distorted portrait

You could ask for. Expression can

Be a defense, an elaborate disguise,

Pure fiction, the occasional naked

Truth. I must confess to reveling in

The freedom of never being sure if

I’m taken seriously. Gives me room

To evolve, explore, experiment.

If I ever touch your sensibilities

In some way, I’m truly flattered,

But it’s an accident. My thought

Collisions occasionally summon a

Connection rather than an ambulance.

Were a truly accurate portrait to

Crawl from the wreckage of my

Pages, you’d see a shell shocked

Crash test dummy, mangled, head

Backwards, heart sideways, limbs

Akimbo, lips fixed in a grimace,

Jumping right into the next car.

 

LION TAMER

 

Taming lions, do you need a circus

Mind? A grasp of animal psychology?

The talent to get them to trust you

Above their own instincts? Can they

Unlearn what another nasty trainer

Has whipped into them, once he’s

Manipulated their wants and needs

To make them behave his way?

Make them feel they’re safe not

Biting the head off anyone who

Doesn’t give them exactly what

They expect? Don’t be like a lion

Trained by the Romans to tear

Apart criminals, deviants and

Religious dissidents to entertain a

Bloodthirsty colosseum audience.

 

BURRITO

 

What gets folded-into our story?

What doesn’t? Our story is like a

Burrito – by themselves the

Ingredients would make one big

Mess, cross no-fly zones, riot on

The plate, stain your clothes, soil

The floor. However, these same

Ingredients, when something holds

Them in one place, create an

Unexpected combination of tastes,

Rendered in the burrito’s case all

The more palatable by a Nobel

Prize-worthy masterpiece of

Culinary engineering, a design

With equally valid practical,

Cultural and gastronomical

Qualities. What we think wasn’t

Meant to co-exist in one dish

Somehow does - with willingness

And creativity, and a good salsa

Always helps. Every burrito across

The USA at this very moment

Stands as a testament to what

Hunger and ingenuity can do.

 

COLUMBUS

 

History is great – I’m re-learning it all

The time. Like the little-known fact

That besides collecting information

For maps, Columbus also collected

Several hundred Indians to take

Home and sell as slaves. Well, how

Else was he supposed to pay for the

Trip? And besides, in exchange for a

Few hundred slaves, not all of whom

Even made it to Europe, look what

We got. No Columbus, no Las Vegas.

No Seattle. No Boise, Idaho. No Alamo,

No Annie Oakley, no Little Big Horn, no

George Washington, no Ben Franklin.

No Star Spangled Banner. No Civil War,

No Blues, no Jazz, no Rock & Roll. No

Lincoln, no Lincoln Center. No Pearl

Harbor, no 9-11, no Boston Tea Party,

No Boston Strangler, no McDonalds.

No Margaret Mitchell, no Margaret

Mead, no Miley Cyrus. No Fox News.

No American Idol, no FBI, no Civil Rights.

None of this and more would ever have

Come to pass if it hadn’t been for

Columbus. You wouldn’t even be here,

So hey, just let the slave thing slide.

 

TELEVISION

 

Television, you pampered only child

Of an arranged marriage between

Hollywood and Wall Street. Television,

Shaping our culture while taping its

Mouth shut and binding its hands.

Television, who do your represent,

Anyway? Am I no longer in tune with

Society since you don’t make sense?

Television, aimed at some imaginary

America where everyone takes your

Word on what’s worth buying and

Believing. Television, you’re teaching

Escape. Television, your signals go

Out into space. Alien races are curious

About you, Television, and now firmly

Believe earth’s highest-evolved life

Form motivates and manipulates its

Own masses by dangling desired

Material items and idealized states

Of being in front of them like you’d

Dangle a carrot in front of a donkey.

 

RIVERBOAT

 

Flowing on the slow river of time,

Before you know it you’ve come

Farther than you believed possible.

Whenever this river seems about

To end, it’s only changing, following

A way passed down from the ages.

Why stray from a proven route?

Someone once told me there’s an

Ocean where all rivers meet, where

Their long travels end, but curiously,

Rivers take their sweet time keeping

The appointment. Who’s in a hurry?

We’ll arrive when it’s time. Until

Then, the river is single-mined,

Stopping everywhere, staying

Nowhere, enticing us with a free

One-way ticket. The river wants us

To mix, discover what’s out there.

Learn from and love every moment

On the water. We’re lucky we can

Join this voyage even for a short

Time, and few among us have

Passage all the way to its end.

 

PANIC

 

Calm serenity is an illusion, but shout

That lie as loud as you can because the

Truth is panic. As soon as we’re out of

The womb, we’re screaming. As soon

As whatever situation we’re in starts

Spinning out of control, we’re right back

To the panic we reacted with as soon as

We opened our eyes. And not just babies.

No one wants the pressure of keeping it

All together, but who will prevent our

Serenity from descending into anarchy

If not ourselves? Calm serenity reminds

Us of Heaven, a place within us where it

Doesn’t seem like it could all blow apart

Any second. We need that thought to

Deal with the world, keep reminding

The deaf public and dumb governments

There’s always a better solution than

Bombs. Calm serenity is an illusion, so

Forgive me for cultivating dishonesty –

I’m just trying not to panic.

 

BETRAYAL

 

If I talk about betrayal, it doesn’t

Mean I’m talking about you, just

About the thousand ways you can

Feel betrayed. I know it doesn’t do

Any good to talk about feeling

Betrayed, but every time I’m right

On the brink of being kind for no

Other reason than just to be kind,

That feeling comes creeping back:

You’re gonna get betrayed. Betrayal

Is the risk you take when you give.

If you give in the right way, there’s

A tiny chance you won’t be betrayed,

But it’s really tiny. Much more

Straightforward to be a taker, a

Heartbreaker, a bastard, a user.

You can’t be betrayed if you just

Don’t care. Might as well betray

Someone else before they do it

To you. Betrayal is a parachute

For those who can’t stand feeling

Trapped, held back. Betrayal is a

Cancer in the marrow of our

Society and personal lives, eating

The blood cells faith needs. Betrayal

Goes back to the Bible – Judas might

Have been forgiven for his betrayal,

But I’m not so saintly.

 

FOR MARIE ANTOINETTE

 

If you doubt the power of propaganda,

Consider this. Marie Antoinette, one of

History’s coldest, most heartless bitches,

Once famously remarked that peasants

Starving for bread could eat cake instead.

This immortal utterance, which so well

Characterizes corruption, anywhere,

Anytime, guarantees that Marie won’t

Soon be forgotten. Imagine my surprise,

Then, when I read that there’s actually

No concrete evidence she really said it!

That historians consider the source of

The quote highly unreliable! A tabloid,

No less. Louis and Marie apparently

Believed in freedom of the press, but

As is still so often the case, attacking

The unpopular sold copies. Therefore,

Exaggerations and lies about the

Monarchy were commonplace. But so

What? With a quote so memorable,

Questions of legitimacy are secondary.

Still, imagine going down in history for

Something you never actually said!

History has force fed Marie that very

Same cake allegedly recommended

To the peasants.

 

R.I.P. LOU REED

 

The different don’t feel so different

Anymore, not like they used to, not

Like when they had to deny the very

Idea of their natures. The different had

Lou Reed to sing for them. Lou didn’t

Pander for shock value, he just figured

He’d get real, real for him, maybe real

Too for others out there in dark corners,

The margins, the gutters, the alleys, the

Toilets, the jails, the mental hospitals.

This was when being a freak wasn’t chic,

It was dangerous, could cost you your

Life. Sometimes Lou didn’t mind who

He offended, other times he cloaked

His real meanings in clever language,

But no one could probe as deeply into

The taboo shadows of our collective

Psyche with the same boldness or

With as much humanity. That’s what

I’ll remember Lou for, his humanity,

His occasional tenderness, his trying

To find the heart in life’s confusions,

His frequent rubbing of life’s seediest

Sides in your face. He had his own face

Rubbed in it too, but turned the smears

Into part of his costume for the role of

Bard of the forbidden, anarchist of

Sexuality giving all the rejects a voice.

 

TONGUE TIED

 

Tongue tied, falling right into a

Role I’m not sure how to play.

Tongue tied, no idea how to

Say what I’m thinking, it might

Be impolite, not to your liking.

Tongue tied, talking around

The subject, trying to say it

Indirectly.Tongue tied, wanting

So bad for the words to sound

Right that they won’t come out

At all. Tongue tied, silently

Screaming.

 

IT’S MY JOB

 

You can deny my love if it’s

Not what you want, refuse it

If it’s not good enough, just

Doesn’t move you. You have

Every right by your own free

Will. I just feel like, right or

Wrong, good or bad, happy

Or sad, wise or foolish, it’s

Just my job to let you know

Somebody loves you. No one

Said anything about you

Having to accept it.

 

REINCARNATION

 

With every person you’ve ever felt

A passion for, you create a child in

The spiritual world. You may meet

Them there, before or after their

Turn comes to be made real, born

As human. How else to explain why

A poet from a thousand years ago

Reminds me of someone I only met

Yesterday, or why grandparents

Sometimes make more sense than

Mom and dad, or why someone

You rarely even see can still fill you

With both joy and sadness longer

Than time itself whenever you

Think of them?

 

MORE NEXT DOOR ("CYCLONE SCENE 2")

I hate people that quote the bible on the side of railcars or on signs at ballgames, or ballplayers that thank god for hitting homeruns, like the supreme being is worried about people hitting a small ball or throwing a ball through a hoop, etc., etc., why do christians get a pass on this, if a muslim, or a hindu, or a god forbid and atheist put up their propaganda people would lose their minds... think about it

 

George Carlin

On Religion

  

When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims, religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever 'til the end of time!

 

But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He's all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can't handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit!

 

But I want you to know something, this is sincere, I want you to know, when it comes to believing in God, I really tried. I really, really tried. I tried to believe that there is a God, who created each of us in His own image and likeness, loves us very much, and keeps a close eye on things. I really tried to believe that, but I gotta tell you, the longer you live, the more you look around, the more you realize, something is fucked up.

 

Something is wrong here. War, disease, death, destruction, hunger, filth, poverty, torture, crime, corruption, and the Ice Capades. Something is definitely wrong. This is not good work. If this is the best God can do, I am not impressed. Results like these do not belong on the résumé of a Supreme Being. This is the kind of shit you'd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. And just between you and me, in any decently-run universe, this guy would've been out on his all-powerful ass a long time ago. And by the way, I say "this guy", because I firmly believe, looking at these results, that if there is a God, it has to be a man.

 

No woman could or would ever fuck things up like this. So, if there is a God, I think most reasonable people might agree that he's at least incompetent, and maybe, just maybe, doesn't give a shit. Doesn't give a shit, which I admire in a person, and which would explain a lot of these bad results.

 

So rather than be just another mindless religious robot, mindlessly and aimlessly and blindly believing that all of this is in the hands of some spooky incompetent father figure who doesn't give a shit, I decided to look around for something else to worship. Something I could really count on.

 

And immediately, I thought of the sun. Happened like that. Overnight I became a sun-worshipper. Well, not overnight, you can't see the sun at night. But first thing the next morning, I became a sun-worshipper. Several reasons. First of all, I can see the sun, okay? Unlike some other gods I could mention, I can actually see the sun. I'm big on that. If I can see something, I don't know, it kind of helps the credibility along, you know? So everyday I can see the sun, as it gives me everything I need; heat, light, food, flowers in the park, reflections on the lake, an occasional skin cancer, but hey. At least there are no crucifixions, and we're not setting people on fire simply because they don't agree with us.

 

Sun worship is fairly simple. There's no mystery, no miracles, no pageantry, no one asks for money, there are no songs to learn, and we don't have a special building where we all gather once a week to compare clothing. And the best thing about the sun, it never tells me I'm unworthy. Doesn't tell me I'm a bad person who needs to be saved. Hasn't said an unkind word. Treats me fine. So, I worship the sun. But, I don't pray to the sun. Know why? I wouldn't presume on our friendship. It's not polite.

 

I've often thought people treat God rather rudely, don't you? Asking trillions and trillions of prayers every day. Asking and pleading and begging for favors. Do this, gimme that, I need a new car, I want a better job. And most of this praying takes place on Sunday His day off. It's not nice. And it's no way to treat a friend.

 

But people do pray, and they pray for a lot of different things, you know, your sister needs an operation on her crotch, your brother was arrested for defecating in a mall. But most of all, you'd really like to fuck that hot little redhead down at the convenience store. You know, the one with the eyepatch and the clubfoot? Can you pray for that? I think you'd have to. And I say, fine. Pray for anything you want. Pray for anything, but what about the Divine Plan?

 

Remember that? The Divine Plan. Long time ago, God made a Divine Plan. Gave it a lot of thought, decided it was a good plan, put it into practice. And for billions and billions of years, the Divine Plan has been doing just fine. Now, you come along, and pray for something. Well suppose the thing you want isn't in God's Divine Plan? What do you want Him to do? Change His plan? Just for you? Doesn't it seem a little arrogant? It's a Divine Plan. What's the use of being God if every run-down shmuck with a two-dollar prayerbook can come along and fuck up Your Plan?

 

And here's something else, another problem you might have: Suppose your prayers aren't answered. What do you say? "Well, it's God's will." "Thy Will Be Done." Fine, but if it's God's will, and He's going to do what He wants to anyway, why the fuck bother praying in the first place? Seems like a big waste of time to me! Couldn't you just skip the praying part and go right to His Will? It's all very confusing.

 

So to get around a lot of this, I decided to worship the sun. But, as I said, I don't pray to the sun. You know who I pray to? Joe Pesci. Two reasons: First of all, I think he's a good actor, okay? To me, that counts. Second, he looks like a guy who can get things done. Joe Pesci doesn't fuck around. In fact, Joe Pesci came through on a couple of things that God was having trouble with.

 

For years I asked God to do something about my noisy neighbor with the barking dog, Joe Pesci straightened that cocksucker out with one visit. It's amazing what you can accomplish with a simple baseball bat.

 

So I've been praying to Joe for about a year now. And I noticed something. I noticed that all the prayers I used to offer to God, and all the prayers I now offer to Joe Pesci, are being answered at about the same 50% rate. Half the time I get what I want, half the time I don't. Same as God, 50-50. Same as the four-leaf clover and the horseshoe, the wishing well and the rabbit's foot, same as the Mojo Man, same as the Voodoo Lady who tells you your fortune by squeezing the goat's testicles, it's all the same: 50-50. So just pick your superstition, sit back, make a wish, and enjoy yourself.

 

And for those of you who look to The Bible for moral lessons and literary qualities, I might suggest a couple of other stories for you. You might want to look at the Three Little Pigs, that's a good one. Has a nice happy ending, I'm sure you'll like that. Then there's Little Red Riding Hood, although it does have that X-rated part where the Big Bad Wolf actually eats the grandmother. Which I didn't care for, by the way. And finally, I've always drawn a great deal of moral comfort from Humpty Dumpty. The part I like the best? "All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again." That's because there is no Humpty Dumpty, and there is no God. None, not one, no God, never was.

 

In fact, I'm gonna put it this way. If there is a God, may he strike this audience dead! See? Nothing happened. Nothing happened? Everybody's okay? All right, tell you what, I'll raise the stakes a little bit. If there is a God, may he strike me dead. See? Nothing happened, oh, wait, I've got a little cramp in my leg. And my balls hurt. Plus, I'm blind. I'm blind, oh, now I'm okay again, must have been Joe Pesci, huh? God Bless Joe Pesci. Thank you all very much. Joe Bless You!

 

(Copyright 1999 by George Carlin. Printed without permission.)

Feel free to complain, try and "save" me, what ever... but I already have a government trying to control me, the last thing I need is a church putting a hand in my pocket to build huge buildings to a man that had great ideas that they can't follow...like giving up your money and living with the sinners... living as an example without judging, giving to Caesar what is Caesar's and god what's god's (this means keep your nose out of government and your morals out of it, live by example not theocracy) We have a christian taliban in this country called the moral majority, evangelicals, and right wingers... wake up and open your eyes to the truth... Jason 13:45