[23:30] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] nudges her with his elbow again, putting down his book finally "That's 'cause they're starin' at yer tits, luv." he'd shrug, grinning softly to himself "Good save. I was ready ta dump the bitch the canal."

 

[23:32] Fluffy Snoodle tosses her hands up in zee air, like she just doesn't care. Though no, seriously. "Hah, I'm good at doing things like that, and I don't blame people for staring my boobs. Sometimes I stare at them too." What? It's not weird. "And hey, can't say you don't stare. OH! And another thing, this outfit and my hairstyle at this very moment makes me look like a major bitch." See, that scares people away.

 

[23:36] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] slipped the bookmark into his page, tucking the book away in his belt loop "I never said I didn't stare. Jus' when ya ain't lookin'." he'd cant his head at the last comment, giving her a once over "I think they expect you to like. Whip them or some shit." he'd pause, tapping his chin "On second though, tha' don't sound so bad."

 

[23:38] Fluffy Snoodle snorts and looks herself over again, "I have no whips anyways. The most I could do is claw spank and bite." Durdy, yus. "And Gareth, never thought you would like that kinda thing. I'ma take a mental note of that." Hurhur, seriously. Mental note made.

 

[23:40] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] chuckles softly "You never seen my pictures have you?" he'd bring up his cellphone, tapping away as he made his way through the pictures. Eventually he'd make it to a picture of Gareth, suspended several feet off the ground by four steel hooks. Extreme, innit?

 

[23:41] Fluffy Snoodle has to push her bangs up to see that and nearly chokes on her own spit, "My god! That looks incredibly painful." Even she wasnt that extreme. "That...wow, just wow. I don't have anything to even say about that."

 

[23:44] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] grinned proudly "Actually, the only pain is in the initial hooks. You go into a trance once they hoist you up. Don't feel a thing." he'd flick through more pictures, another picture of a shirtless gareth, holding up the... devil horns sign? The red marks of whips across his chest "I cut most of me ties to that whole scene back when I was recruited into the SAS."

 

[23:46] Fluffy Snoodle nods slowly staring at those pictures, "I wouldn't mind seeing more shirtless pictures." Hah, shameless. "Though seriously, you look like you've had some fun durring your times." Fluffy just snorted out a laugh, leaning back against the bench. "Never too late to start again, hm?"

 

[23:50] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "Of course I did. Once ya go down that road, normal sex is just... boring." Wisdom." he'd flick through the other pictures, varying in graphicness "Of course, but eh. Most people around here are... dirty. Or have taken one too many dicks in their time."

 

[23:53] Fluffy Snoodle stares at him before bursting out in a giggle-fit, "Wow, Well um...Thats interesting." She'd take her gas mask off and readjust her piercings, "I know plently of girls who arent whores." Yus...most of the packies. "Though, I don't think they're into that hardcore stuff."

 

[23:56] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] wiggled his eyebrows "You know it's true, luv." he'd give her another playful nudge before letting either arm rest atop the backrest "Eh. I've never been one for random fucks. Half the time you run the risk of catching something."

 

[23:58] Fluffy Snoodle snorts and attaches the mask to her belt, "Half the time? This is Midian, try all the time. S'why I don't do it either." Fluffy just shook her head and looked up to the smog. "And yes, it's true, can't deny it." Most of midian were whores and manwhore so on so forth. "You might get some mutated form of AIDs here."

 

[0:06] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "Well I would hope you wouldn't. I'd like to think I'm a decent judge of character." he'd laugh, plucking the cigarette from his lips and casting it into the canal. "Or maybe I'm just too much of a cynic. I do want to put a bullet in the brain of ever dumb asshole in this fuckin' city."

 

[0:10] Fluffy Snoodle snorts, "Well, you've almost got the right job for it." She'd say wiggling her brows...oh wait, he cant see that. "Just need to go beat the shit outa someone." Yeah, HINTHINT WINKWINK. "Go pick someone of your choice!"

 

[0:15] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] cocked a brow "You mad? It's midnight. I'm too fuckin' sleep deprived to fight." he'd shrug, tugging out a pack of gum and flicking out a piece. He'd point it in her direction "Want one?" he'd say, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

 

[0:18] Fluffy Snoodle shakes her head, "Nah, I usually sit there trying to chew it with my fangs. Usually doesn't end up well." Usually ends up her looking like a moron too. "And no, I'm not mad, I'm trying to light a fire under your ass to get to work. They may not hire you if you take too long. Just lookin' out for yooooou~" She'd stand up and rub her butt off, "Can't sit too long in this...don't want it to stretch out too much." Then it wont be as sexy, nope.

 

[0:25] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] would just shrug, chewing away at the gum "I know I know. Tomorrow, I'll go kick someone's ass. I've just been busy as fuck with my apartment." he'd stand, patting his pants "You could never get me into latex. It's too... squeaky if you ask me." he'd chuckle, crossing his arms across his chest "And eh, careful ya don't run face-first into a sign or nothin' with that haircut of yours." har har.

 

[0:27] Fluffy Snoodle looks to her hair...which would be her going cross-eye'd. "Meh, I wont, I'm too good for that." Hah, she was also clumsy as fuck. "And, I think guys look good in latex pants, if they're shirtless anyways." Again with the eyebrow wiggle. "You're cleaning your apartment?" Hmm...a guy cleaning, thats not weird at all.

 

[0:33] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] cackles "Still. I'd rather go shirtless and in a pair of ratty jeans." he'd tap his chin a bit "Speaking of which. I'm wearing my ratty jeans and goin' shirtless tomorrow." he'd nod softly "Aye. It's better than being a gigantic shithole. Just in case, ya know. Someone comes over."

 

[0:35] Fluffy Snoodle stretches, aww listen to that latex squeak, and yawns, "Welp, you didn't let me go over sooo I figured y'know, you don't let anyone go over." Sagenod time! And with that - Fluff would shamelessly fix the latex on her ass. Twas a little wrinkly.

 

[0:42] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "Not like there's much to see. Nothing exciting like the magical fairy cavern you live in." he'd shrug "How about I take ya sometime soon, then. I'll finish up the last of the cleaning tonig-." he cut off, his head canting slowly to the left as he watched her fix her latex. Creeper stare!

 

[0:43] Fluffy Snoodle gives that creeper stare right back, "I like my magical fairy cavern thank you." She'd say poking her tongue out as she finished fixing it, "Besides, me stepping in a room just makes it all the better." Full of herself? Nah, just fucking around.

 

[0:46] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "FUCK your magical fairy cavern. I've got a shitty apartment that's half bombed-out. How's that?" oh yes, livin' in style "Mmmm. Yeah. I guess. Maybe just a little better."

 

[0:48] Fluffy Snoodle tosses her hands into the air and huffs, "RIGHT!" Saracsm, "Actually having your own place is much better than living with a bunch of retards." Retards that I love though, thats another story. "And just a little better? Pssh, I light the room up. A friend told me I'd be a glowsticks wet dream." As awkward as that sounds, it's true. She was infact told that.

 

[0:54] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "Most likely, I like my quiet. Too much time around too many people an' I get a little squirrely." he'd shrug, giving her a prod in the belly "Eh. You're mediocre. 4 outta 10." he'd stick his tongue out at her, teasing of course.

 

[0:56] Fluffy Snoodle narrows her eyes at that and crosses her arms, getting that prod in the stomach, "Oh-hohoho, you did not just say that." She scoffed. "I'm definately off the charts." Again, just fucking around, she's not -that- full of herself.

 

[1:00] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] snorts softly, grinning all the wall "You know what? 2 outta 10. You're nothing special." he'd stick his tongue out at her. He was joking, of course. But oh did he ever love to taunt her.

 

[1:03] Fluffy Snoodle now just makes a ':O' face and stares at him, "Fine, you're a 0 out of 10." Hah, take that. "I know I'm purdy, don't gotta believe what you say, nope." Fluff did that weird...snap head thingy mabobber. She was just teasing him too of course. Two can play at that game. Mar har.

 

[1:05] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth]: "Pfft. I ain't here to please you." he'd grin softly "Oh no no. It's okay, you just go back to your delusions. I'll go back to being the pinacle of male attractiveness." now that was a mouthful.

 

[1:07] Fluffy Snoodle is doing her very best not to laugh now, "Oh, mister Gareth, you tell me that I'm delusional?" She let out a taunting laugh, "You may think you're the pinacle of male attractiveness, though I -know- that I am the pinacle of female attractiveness." Hah, take that. That was more of a mouthful too, that was like...overloading to the point of drooling.

[1:08] KlistiesSeMio Ewinaga is Online

 

[1:11] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] would roll his eyes, though his gaze slowly drifted behind her, his eyes narrowing a bit "Who's tha'?" he'd ask, putting on his most convincing voice. If she turned around, he'd wind up, and attempt to smack her ass, flat-palmed, as hard as he could. Oh yes, he went there. When he did that, he'd jump back, making sure to put a safe amount of distance between him and her.

 

[1:14] Fluffy Snoodle would infact look just because she was that gullible. As she recieved that smack to the ass she'd yelp as his hand connected to her ass, creating a loud 'snap' and she leaped forwards, somehow ending up behind him only to smack his ass if she could before moving back to where she was before. "That hurt!" She'd whine, turning around and bending over, "Now, kiss it and make it better." Hah, kiss my ass, foo'!

 

[1:17] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] perked up as his own arse was smacked, giving it a sore rub. He'd grin softly "That was the point.." he'd wiggle his eyebrows "Careful what you wish for. I could turn into that ass-licker."

 

[1:19] Fluffy Snoodle snorts, "Well, it wouldn't be -as- creepy." She'd say with a nod, still rubbing her ass, "Since I know you and all...and you didn't come flying at me like a goddamn monkey from the top of a building." Seriously, that was pretty awkward, "Oh, and you don't smell bad."

 

[1:26] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] would just winked "Jus' be careful whatcha wish for, luv." he'd grin and chuckle, raising an arm to sniff at his armpit "Really? Why I'm flattered."

[1:28] Fluffy Snoodle is still bent over waiting, "It still hurts." She'd say with a grunt, "ANd yes really...well, your jacket didn't at least when I stole it from you." Fluffy flicked her tails to him and shrugged. "And who says I'm not being careful? Though...if you slap it again, I'll punch your ass till it's tender." Hrhr, tenderizer.

 

[1:34] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] would rub his chin, then gentle scratching sound of stubble grinding together. Almost looking descisive, until he'd shrug, lean down and giving her arse a small peck. Following that, he'd cast his hand out again, attempting to give her arse another smack, on the other cheek, of course.

 

[1:37] Fluffy Snoodle jumps away though somehow still gets that damn slap, though she got the ass kiss too so she'd raise her hands in the air victoriously, "Fluffy wins agaaaain!" And here come the quiet cheers from her mouth, turning around to look to him. "Now I can tell everyone I got you to kiss my ass." This was, of course, the first time she got someone to actually kiss her ass. Hrhr.

 

[1:43] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest "Jus' remember, luv. I did it willingly." chuckling, he'd wiggle his eyebrows "Oh. And there's 206 bones in the human body. Want another one?" see, she wasn't the only one who could come up with cheesey pick-up lines.

 

[1:45] Fluffy Snoodle snorts, "Let me go find my whip first." She'd say acting as if she was about to walk off towards the den though she'd stop and poke her tongue out, "Even if you did do it willingly, I still got you to do it. See, if I wouldn't have bent over and offered it never would have happened." That didn't sound dirty at all either.

 

[1:50] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] raised his eyebrows at that "Yeah yeah. Don't act like it's much of a victory." he'd sigh, his mouth drawing open to let out a yawn "Well, it looks like I'm actually tired for once. I'mma head 'er home. I'll see you tomorrow?"

 

[1:52] Fluffy Snoodle shrugs, "Perhaps." Her players going away though! Depressing isnt it? "See you around, dork." She'd say with an innocent smile and a wiggle of the fingers...or a wave. Whatever you wanna call it works. "It's still a victory."

 

[1:53] Gareth Croshaw [Osoth] grinned, stepping away whilst waving his hand "Yeah yeah. Half-smile. See ya around, Fluff."

Today I chose to wear a denim skirt, tights, turtleneck and sweater with my flats for my errands, which included the pharmacy, post office, gas station and nail salon. My tech was thrilled to see me looking so feminine, and said she'd like for me to be dressed this girly every time I visit her.

 

Because of my feminine outfit, she said today was my day for a full set of red acrylics. But I somehow convinced her to just go with the regular French fill. She agreed, but insisted that I can't leave the shop without girly nails to match my outfit. So, in place of red, she chose a pretty iridescent pearl UV-cured polish, which she told me would be as feminine, and almost as noticeable as, red.

 

So, my fingernails all became pretty pearlescent! And she's right, they're feminine....

 

She reminded me that to leave them alone till my next fill will save me a lot of work trying to remove the pearlescent color, and anything I do may mess up my nails in the process. She chose the color to look attractive with anything I wear. But, if I really feel the need for change, my only choice will be to paint over them with another color...she'll happily do this for me if I stop by wearing the dress or skirt I need to match. Or I can get whatever colors I like at the pharmacy and do it myself. She highly recommended that approach - every girl should own lots of different colors of polish, and many change their nail color nightly, to match the next day's outfit, as they watch their favorite shows on the telly.

 

Good thing I like the color she applied. I've decided to just wear it till my next fill, then let her re-apply it for me, since I'm not quite ready to start painting my nails every night. Yet. But she insists that day will come...

 

But now that I'm wearing nail color full time, she showed me bottles of pretty pastel blues and pinks for my hands starting about Easter, and a really attention-grabbing shade of hot pink she wants to give me with a pedicure later this spring. Once I'm fully equipped with girly nail colors, she tells me that I'll probably start painting them on my own between fills, just like the other girls.... Then she showed me a blue to match my denim skirt, or a white to match my sweater. We girls gotta have our nails match our outfit, whether we're wearing skirts, dresses, leggings or capris!

 

When I left the shop, she again complimented my pretty nails, told me she's thrilled that I'm getting more comfortable in skirts, and she hopes that soon I'll be wearing them all day, every day. Then she reminded me to be careful with my nails till they're fully dry later this afternoon, And before I left, she decided to take a picture of me, so I can remember my day.

 

It was a really fun visit, and her support is legendary!

Yoko Ono’s own relationship and partnership with John Lennon have given her access and opportunities she might never have achieved on her own, but her status as a pop icon has largely obscured her own achievements as an artist. Now where is this more obvious than in the area of filmmaking. Between 1966 and 1971, Ono made substantial contribution to avant-garde cinema,

 

Most of which are now a vague memory, even for those generally cognizant of developments in this field. With few expectations, her films have been out of circulation for years, but fortunately this situation needs to be changing; in the spring of 1989 the Whitney Museum of American Art presented a film retrospective along with a small show of objects - eighties versions of conceptual objects Ono has exhibited in 1966 and 1967 – and the American Federation of Arts re-released Ono’s films in the spring of 1991.

Except as a film-goer, Ono was not involved with film until the 1960s, though by this time she began to make her own films, she was an established artist. At the end of the fifties, after studying poetry and music at Sarah Lawrence College, she became part of a circle of avant-garde musicians (including John Cage and Merce Cunningham): in fact the “Chambers Street Series.” An influential concert series organized by LaMonte Young, was held at Ono’s loft at 112 Chambers. Ono’s activities in music led to her first public concert, A Grapefruit in the World of Park (at the Village Gate, 1961) and later that same year to an evening of performance events in which Yvonne Rainer stood up and sat down before a table stacked with dishes for ten minutes, then smashed the dishes “accompanied by a rhythmic background of repeated syllables, a tape recording of moans and words spoken backwards, and by an aria of high-pitched wails sung by Ono” (Barbara Haskell’s description in Yoko Ono: Objects, Films, the catalogue for the 1989 Whitney Museum show).

 

In the early sixties Ono was part of what became known as Fluxus, an art movement with roots in Dada, in Marcel Duchamp and John Cage, and energised by George Maciunas. The Fluxus artists were dedicated to challenging conventional definitions in the fine arts, and conventional relationships between artwork and viewer. In the early sixties, Ono made such works as Painting to See the Room through (1961), a canvas with an almost invisible hole in the centre through which one peered to see the room, and Painting to Hammer the Nail in (1961), a white wood panel that “viewers” were instructed to hammer nails into with an attached hammer. Instructions for dozens of these early pieces, and for later ones, are reprinted in Ono’s Grapefruit, which has appeared several times in several different editions- most recently in a Simon and Schuster/ Touchstone paperback edition, reprinted in 1979.

 

By the mid sixties, Ono had become interested in film, as a writer of mini film scripts (sixteen are reprinted in the Fall 1989 Film Quarterly), and as a contributor of three films to the Fluxfilm Program coordinated by Maciunas in 1966: two one-shot films shot at 2000 frames per second, Eyeblink and Match, and No.4, a sequence of buttocks of walking males and females. Along with several other films in the Fluxfilm Program (and two 1966 films by Bruce Baillie), Eyeblink and No.4 are, so far as I know, the first instances of what was to become a mini-genre of avant-garde cinema: the single-shot film (films that are or appear to be precisely one shot long), No.4 (Bottoms) (1966).

 

For the eighty minutes of No.4 (Bottoms), all we see are human buttocks in the act of walking, filmed in black and white, in close-up, so that each buttocks fills the screen: the crack between the cheeks and the crease between hams and legs divide the frame into four approximately equal sectors: we cannot see around the edges of the walking bodies. Each buttocks is filmed for a few seconds (often for fifteen seconds or so; sometimes for less than ten seconds), and is then followed immediately by the next buttocks. The sound track consists of interviews with people whose buttocks we see and with other people considering whether to allow themselves to be filmed; they talk about the project in general, and they raise the issue of the film’s probable boredom, which becomes a comment on viewers’ actual experience of the film. The sound track also includes segments of television news coverage of the project (which had considerable visibility in London in 1966), including an interview with Ono, who discusses the conceptual design of the film.

 

No. 4 (Bottoms) is fascinating and entertaining, especially in its revelation of the human body. Because Ono’s structuring of the visuals is rigorously serial, No.4 (Bottoms) is reminiscent of Edward Muybridge’s motion studies, though in this instance the “grid” against which we measure the motion is temporal, as well as implicitly spatial: though there’s no literal grid behind the bottoms, each bottom is framed in precisely the same way. What we realize from seeing these bottoms, and inevitably comparing them with one another- and with our idea of “bottom”- is both obvious and startling. Not only are people’s bottoms remarkably varied in their shape, colouring, and texture, but no two bottoms move in the same way.

 

On a more formal level No.4 (Bottoms) is interesting both as an early instance of the serial structuring that was to become so common in avant-garde film by the end of the sixties (in Snow’s Wavelength and Ernie Gehr’s Serene Velocity, 1970; Hollis Frampton’s Zorns Lemma, 1970 and Robert Huot’s Rolls: 1971, 1972; J.J. Murphey’s Print Generation, 1974…) and because Ono’s editing makes the experience of No.4 (Bottoms) more complex than simple descriptions of the film seem to suggest. As the film develops, particular bottoms and comments on the sound track are sometimes repeated, often in new contexts; and a variety of subtle interconnections between image and sound occur.

 

Like No.4 (Bottoms), Ono’s next long film, Film No.5 (Smile) (1968, fifty-one minutes), was an extension of work included in the Fluxfilm Program. Like her Eyeblink and Match- and like Chieko Shiomi’s Disappearing Music for Face (in which Ono’s smile gradually “disappears”), also on the Fluxfilm Program- Film No.5 (Smile) was shot with a high-speed camera. Unlike these earlier films, all of which filmed simple actions in black and white, indoors, at 2000 frames per second, Film No.5 (Smile) reveals John Lennon’s face, recorded at 333 frames per second for an extended duration, outdoors, in colour, and accompanied by a sound track of outdoor sounds recorded at the same time the imagery was recorded. Film No.5 (Smile) divides roughly into two halves, one continuous shot each. During the first half, the film is a meditation on Lennon’s face, which is so still that on first viewing I wasn’t entirely sure for a while that the film was live action and not an optically printed photograph of Lennon smiling slightly. Though almost nothing happens in any conventional sense, the intersection of the high-speed filming and our extended gaze creates continuous, subtle transformations: it is as if we can see Lennon’s expression evolve in conjunction with the flow of his thoughts. Well into the first shot, Lennon forms his lips into an “O”- a kiss perhaps- and then slowly returns to the slight smile with which the shot opens. During the second shot of Film No.5 (Smile), which differs from the first in subtleties of colour and texture (both shots are lovely), Lennon’s face is more active; he blinks several times, sticks his tongue out, smiles broadly twice, and seems to say “Ah!” Of course, while the second shot is more active than the first, the amount of activity remains minimal by conventional standards (and unusually so even for avant-garde film.) It is as though those of us in the theatre and Lennon are meditating on each other from opposite sides of the cinematic apparatus, joined together by Ono in a lovely, hypnotic stasis.

 

The excitement Ono and Lennon were discovering living and working together fuelled Two Virgins (1968) and Bed-In (1969), both of which were collaborations. Two Virgins enacts two metaphors for the two artists’ interaction. First, we see a long passage of Ono’s and Lennon’s faces superimposed, often with a third layer of leaves, sky, and water; then we see an extended shot of Ono and Lennon looking at each other, then kissing. Bed-In is a relatively conventional record of the Montreal performance; it includes a number of remarkable moments, most noteworthy among them, perhaps, Al Capp’s blatantly mean-spirited, passive-aggressive visit, and the song “Give Peace a Chance.” Nearly all of Ono’s remaining films were collaborations with John Lennon.

 

When the Whitney Museum presented Ono’s films at its 1989 retrospective, Rape (1969) provoked the most extensive critical commentary. The relentless seventy-seven-minute feature elaborates the single action of a small filmmaking crew coming upon a woman in a London park and following her through the park, along streets, and into her apartment where she becomes increasingly isolated by her cinematic tormentors. (Her isolation is a theme from the beginning since the woman speaks German; because the film isn’t subtitled, even we don’t know what she’s saying in any detail.) The film was, according to Ono, a candid recording by cinematographer Nic Knowland of a woman who was not willingly a part of this project. When Rape was first released, it was widely seen as a comment on Ono’s experience on being in the media spotlight with Lennon. Two decades later, the films seems more a parable about the implicit victimization of women by the institution of cinema.

 

Fly (1970) has a number of historical precedents- Willard Maas’s Geography of the Body (1943), most obviously- but it remains powerful and fascinating. At first, a fly is seen, in extreme close-up, as it “explores” the body of a nude woman (she’s identified as “Virginia Lust” in the credits); later more and more flies are seen crawling on the body, which now looks more like a corpse; and at the end, the camera pans up and “flies” out the window of the room. The remarkable sound track is a combination of excerpts from Ono’s vocal piece, Fly, and music composed by Lennon.

 

Up Your Legs Forever (1970) is basically a remake of No.4 (Bottoms), using legs, rather than buttocks: the camera continually pans up from the feet to the upper thighs of hundreds of men and women, as we listen to the sound of the panning apparatus and a variety of conversations about the project. Though UP Your Legs Forever has some interesting moments, it doesn’t have the drama or the humour of No.4 (Bottoms).

 

Ono and Lennon also collaborated on two Lennon films (whether a film is a “Lennon film” or and “Ono film” depends on whose basic concept instigated the project). Apotheosis (1970) is one of the most ingenious single-shot films ever made. A camera pans up the cloaked bodies of Lennon and Ono, then on up into the sky above a village, higher and higher across snow-covered fields (the camera was mounted in a hot-air balloon, which we never see- though we hear the device that heats the air) and then up into the clouds; the screen remains completely white for several minutes, and finally, once many members of the audience have given up on the film, the camera rises out into the sunny skyscraper above the clouds. The film is a test and reward of viewer patience and serenity. For Erection, a camera was mounted so that we can watch the construction of a building, in time-lapse dissolves from one image to another, several hours or days later. The film is not so much about the action of constructing a building (as a pixellated film of such a subject might be), as it is about the subtle, sometimes magical changes that take place between the dissolves. Erection is more mystery than documentation.

 

Imagine (1971)- not to be confused with the recent Imagine: John Lennon (1988, directed by Andrew Solt)- was the final Ono/Lennon cinematic collaboration: it’s a series of sketches accompanied by their music. Since 1971 Ono has made no films, though she did make a seven minute video documenting the response to a conceptual event at the Museum of Modern Art: Museum of Modern Art Show (1971). She has also made several music videos that document her process of recovering from Lennon’s death- Walking on Thin Ice (1981), Woman (1981), Goodbye Sadness (1982)- as well as records and art objects.

 

Of course, she remains one of the world’s most visible public figures and the most widely known conceptual artist.

 

I spoke with Ono at her office at the Dakota in May 1989.

 

MacDonald: Were you a moviegoer as a child?

 

Ono: I was a movie buff, yes. In prep school in Tokyo you were supposed to go directly home after school. But most kids often went to the movies. We used to hide our school badges and sneak into the theatre.

 

MacDonald: Do you remember what you saw?

 

Ono: Yes, I mostly saw French films. There was a group of kids who like American films- Jimmy Stewart and Katharine Hepburn, Doris Day and Rock Hudson, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby- and there was another crowd of girls who thought they were intellectuals, and went to French films. I was in the French film group. We would go to see The Children of Paradise (1945), that sort of thing. It was a very exciting time. I loved those films.

 

MacDonald: Did you see some of the early French surrealist films from the twenties?

 

Ono: Those things I saw much later. We’re talking about when I was in high school in the late forties. I saw the surrealist films in the sixties in New York and Paris.

 

The films I saw in high school that were closest to surrealism wee the Cocteau films, Beauty and the Beast and Orpheus (1950). Those films really gave me some ideas.

 

MacDonald: The earliest I know of you in connection with film is the sound track you did for Taka Iimura’s Love in 1963 by hanging the microphone out the window. I know the later Fluxfilm reels that were made in 1966, but did the Fluxus group get involved with film before that?

 

Ono: No. I think that one of the reasons why we couldn’t make films or didn’t think of making films was that we felt that it was an enormously expensive venture. At that time, I didn’t even have the money to buy canvas. I’d go to army surplus shops and get that canvas that’s rolled up. During that period, I felt that getting a camera to do a film was unrealistic.

 

MacDonald: Grapefruit includes three tiny descriptions of conceptual film projects that are identified as excerpts from “Six Film Scripts by Yoko Ono.” Were there others, or was the indication that there were six scripts a conceptual joke?

 

Ono: No, there were six at first; then later there were others. At the time I wrote those scripts, I sent most of them to Jones Mekas, to document them. Actually, that’s why I have copies of them now.

 

MacDonald: There seems to be confusion about the names and numbers of the films on the Fluxfilm Program, and about who did them. I assume you made the two slow-motion films, Eyeblink and Match, and the first film about buttocks, No.4.

 

Ono: Those are mine, yes.

 

MacDonald: Did people collaborate in making those films, or did everybody work individually and then just put the films onto those two Fluxus reels?

 

Ono: One day George (Maciunas) called me and said he’s got the use of a high-speed camera and it’s a good opportunity, so just come over (to Peter Moore’s apartment on East 36th St) and make some films. So I went there, and the high-speed camera was set up and he said, “Give me some ideas!” Think of some ideas for films!” There weren’t many people around, at the beginning just George and…

 

MacDonald: Peter Moore is credited on a lot of the slow-motion films.

 

Ono: Yeah, Peter Moore was there, and Barbara Moore came too. And other people were coming in- I forget who they were- but not many. When I arrived, I was the only person there, outside of George. I don’t know how George managed to get the high-speed camera. I don’t think he paid for it. But it was the kind of opportunity that if you can get it, you grab it. So I’m there, and I got the idea of Match and Eyeblink and we shot these. Eyeblink didn’t come out too well. It was my eye, and I didn’t like my eye.

 

MacDonald: I like that film a lot. Framed the way it is, the eye becomes erotic; it’s suggestive of body parts normally considered more erotic.

 

Ono: The one of those high-speed films I liked best was one you didn’t mention: Smoking.

 

MacDonald: The one by Joe Jones.

 

Ono: Yes. I thought that one was amazing, so beautiful; it was like frozen smoke.

 

MacDonald: There’s a film on that reel called Disappearing Music for Face…

 

Ono: Chieko Shiomi’s film, yeah.

 

MacDonald: I understand you were involved in that one too.

 

Ono: Well, that was my smile. That was me. What happened was that Chieko Shiomi was in Japan at the time. She was coming here often; it wasn’t like she was stationed in Japan all the time, but at the time I think she had just left to go to Japan. Then this high-speed camera idea came up, and when George was saying, “Quick, quick, ideas,” I said, “Well, how about smile”; and he said, “NO, that you can’t do, think of something else.” “But,” I said, “Smile is a very important one, I really want to do it,” because I always had that idea, but George keeps saying, “No you can’t do that one.” Finally, he said, “Well, OK , actually I wanted to save that for Chieko Shiomi because she had the same idea. But I will let you perform.” So that’s me smiling. Later I found out that her concept was totally different from what I wanted to do. Chieko Shiomi’s idea is beautiful; she catches the disappearance of a smile. At the time I didn’t know what her title was.

 

MacDonald: I assume No.4 was shot at a different time.

 

Ono: Yes. At the time I was living at 1 West 100th Street. It was shot in my apartment. My then husband Tony Cox and Jeff Perkins helped.

 

MacDonald: The long version of the buttocks film, No.4 (Bottoms), is still amazing.

 

Ono: I think that film had a social impact at the time because of what was going on in the world and also because of what was going on in the film world. It’s a pretty interesting film really.

 

Do you know the statement I wrote about taking any film and burying it underground for fifty years [see Grapefruit (New York; Simon and Schuster/ Touchstone, 1971), Section 9, “On Film No.4,” paragraph 3, and “On Film No.5 and Two Virgins,” paragraph 2]? It’s like wine. Any film, any cheap film, if you put it underground for fifty years, becomes interesting [laughter]. You just take a shot of people walking, and that’s enough: the weight of history is so incredible.

 

MacDonald: When No.4 (Bottoms) was made, the idea of showing a lot of asses was completely outrageous. Bottoms were less-respected, less-revealed part of the anatomy. These days things have changed. Now bottoms are OK- certain bottoms. What I found exhilarating about watching the film (maybe because I’ve always been insecure about my bottom!) is that after you see hundreds of bottoms, you realize that during the whole time you watched the film, you never saw the “correct,” marketable jean-ad bottom. You realize that nobody’s bottom is the way bottoms are supposed to be: the droop, or there are pimples- something is “wrong.” I think the film has almost as much impact now as it did then- though in a different way.

 

Ono: Well, you see, it’s not just to do with bottoms. For me the film is less about bottoms than about a certain bear, a beat you didn’t see in films, even in avant-garde films, then.

 

This is something else, but I remember one beautiful film where the stationary camera just keeps zooming toward a wall…

 

MacDonald: Wavelength? Michael Snow’s film?

 

Ono: Right, Michael Snow. That’s an incredibly beautiful film. A revolution in itself really. Bottoms film was a different thing, but just as revolutionary I think. It was about a beat, about movement. The beat in bottoms film is comparable to a rock beat. Even in the music world there wasn’t that beat until rock came. It’s the closest thing to the heartbeat. I tried to capture that again with Up Your Legs Forever. But in No.4 (Bottoms) it worked much better. Maybe it was the bottoms. That film has a basic energy. I couldn’t capture it in Up Your Legs Forever.

 

MacDonald: No.4 (Bottoms) plays with perceptions and memory in different ways. For a while it seems like a simple, serial structure, one bottom after another. Then at a certain point you realize, Oh I’ve seen that bottom before… but was it with this sound? No, I don’t think so. Later you may see another bottom a second time, clearly with the same sound. A new kind of viewing experience develops. Did you record all the bottoms and the spoken material for the track, and then later, using that material, develop a structure? It seems almost scored.

 

Ono: Yes. I spent a lot of hours editing. It wasn’t just put together. The sequence was important. A sympathetic studio said that I could come at midnight or whenever no one was using the facilities, to do the editing. I got a lot of editing time free; that’s how I was able to finish it.

 

MacDonald: On the sound track some of the participants talk about the process of getting people to show up to have their bottoms recorded, but I’m not completely sure what the process was. You put an ad in a theatrical paper apparently.

 

Ono: Well, we had an ad, yes, but most of the people were friends of friends. It became a fantastic event. You have to understand, the minute the announcement was made, there was a new joke about it in the newspapers everyday, and everybody was into it. We filmed at Victor Musgrave’s place; he was a very good friend who was very generous in letting me use his townhouse.

 

MacDonald: Did you select bottoms or did you use everybody that was filmed? Were there really 365 bottoms involved?

 

Ono: I didn’t select bottoms. There was not enough for 365 anyway. And the impact of the film as a happening was already getting lost from filming for so long. And there was the rental of the camera and the practical aspect of the shooting schedule. At a certain point I said, “Oh well, the number’s conceptual anyway, so who cares. It’s enough!”

 

MacDonald: I assume that when you did the early Fluxus version of No.4, you just followed people walking across an apartment. For the long film you’d built a machine to do the filming, which allowed you to film in more controlled close-up; we can’t see around the sides of the bodies the way we can in the earlier film.

 

Ono: Well, in the first No.4 I was pretty close too. But, as you say, it wasn’t really perfect. In London we did it almost perfect. In London we did it almost perfectly. My idea both times was very visual. All my films had very visual concepts behind them in the beginning. I mean No.4 (Bottoms) has many levels of impact- one being political- but originally I simply wanted to cover the screen with one object, with something that was moving constantly. There’s always a background. The closest you get to what I mean s like some macho guy, a cowboy or something, standing with his back to the screen, but you always see a little background. The screen is never covered; so I thought, if you don’t leave a background it might be like the whole screen is moving. I just wanted to have that experience. As you say, it didn’t work in the early version, but it was the first idea I had for the film actually.

 

And also, the juxtaposition of the movement of the four sections of the bottoms was fascinating, I thought.

 

MacDonald: No.4 (Bottoms) reminds me of Edward Muybridge’s motion photographs.

 

Ono: Oh I see, yeah.

 

MacDonald: Was the finished film shown a lot?

 

Ono: Well, I finally got an OK from the censor and we showed it in Charing Cross Road. Then some American Hollywood producer came and said he wanted to buy it and take it to the United States. Also, he wanted me to make 365 breasts, and I said, if we’re going to do breasts, then I will do a sequence of one breast, you know, fill the screen with a single breast over and over, but I don’t think that was erotic enough for him. He was thinking eroticism; I was thinking about visual, graphic concepts- a totally different thing. I was too proud to make two breasts [laughter]. I think there was an attempt to take the bottoms film to the United States, but it was promptly confiscated by the censor.

 

MacDonald: At customs?

 

Ono: Yes.

 

MacDonald: There’s a mention on the sound track that you were planning to do other versions of that film in other countries, and the film ends with the phrase, “To Be Continued.” Was that a concept for other films, or were there some specific plans for follow-ups?

 

Ono: Well you see, all my films do have a conceptual side. I have all these scripts, and I get excited just to show them to people because my hope is that maybe they will want to make some of them. That would be great. I mean most of my films are film instructions; they were never made actually. Just as film instructions, I think they are valid, but it wouldn’t be very good if somebody makes them. I don’t have to make them myself. And also, each film I made had a projection of future plans built into the idea. If somebody picks up on one of them, that’s great.

 

At the time I was making films, what I felt I was doing was similar to what The Rocky Horror Picture Show [1975] did later. I wanted to involve the audience directly in new ways.

 

MacDonald: How did Film No.5 (Smile) come about?

 

Ono: When I went to London, I still kept thinking about the idea of smile, so when I had the chance, I decided to do my version. Of course, until John and I got together, I could never have rented a high-speed camera. Well, maybe if I’d looked into it, I could have. I don’t know, but I thought it would be too expensive.

 

MacDonald: Did you know Lennon well at the point when you did Film No.5 (Smile)?

 

Ono: Yes.

 

MacDonald: Because I wondered whether you made the film because you wanted to capture a certain complexity in him, or whether the complexity that’s revealed in that seemingly simple image is a result of what the high-speed camera reveals, or creates, as it films,

 

Ono: Well, certainly I knew John was complex person. But the film wasn’t so much about his complexity as a person. I was trying to capture the complexity of a visual experience. What you see in that film is very similar to how you perceive somebody when you are on acid. We had done acid trips together, and that gave me the idea. I wondered how do you capture this?

 

MacDonald: It’s a beautiful film.

 

Ono: Well, of course, you know from the statements I made about Smile [see Ono, Grapefruit, “On Film No.5 & Two Virgins”] that my idea was really very different from the film I finally made. My idea was to do everybody’s smile. But when I met John, I thought, doing everybody’s smile is going to be impossible; and he can represent everybody’s smile.

 

MacDonald: What I find incredible about Smile is that as you watch John’s face, it’s almost as though you can see his mind working. I don’t know whether it’s an optical illusion, maybe it’s created by the way that the camera works. But it’s almost as though as you watch, the expression is changing every second.

 

Ono: I know. It’s incredible, isn’t it? Of course I didn’t know what exactly a high-speed camera would do. I knew in general, but I didn’t know what the exact effect would be. And, of course, I never would have known unless George Maciunas had rented a high-speed camera and called me up. George was a very interesting person. He had a very artistic mind. I never knew why he didn’t create his own art; he always wanted to take the role of helping create other people’s work. But that combination was very good; he not only executed what we wanted, he gave us the opportunity to look into the areas we would never have looked into. He had that kind of mind.

 

MacDonald: With Two Virgins you and John began collaborating on films and in the next few years there was a whole series of collaborations. Judging from the credits on the films, I assume that one or the other of you would get an idea and then both of you would work the idea out, and whoever had the original idea for a particular film- that film was theirs. Normally, the directorial credit is considered the most important one, but on these films there’s a more basic credit. It might be “Film by Yoko Ono,” then “Directed and produced by John and Yoko.” Am I correct: was it that whoever had the original concept for the film, that’s whose film it was?

 

Ono: Yes.

 

MacDonald: I remember reading years ago in a collection of Rolling Stone interviews that when you and John got involved with politics and in particular with the Bed-In, It was partly because Peter Watkins had written you a letter. Is that how you remember it?

 

Ono: Well, yes, Peter Watkin’s letter was a confrontation to us, and at the time we had a conversation about what we felt we had been doing politically: “Well, I was doing this, Yes I was doing that.” As a Beatle, John was always asked, “What is your position about the Vietnam War,” or something else; and I think that their manager, Brian Epstein, was very concerned that they wouldn’t make any statements, and so they didn’t make any direct statements. But a covert statement was made through an album cover that was censored, as you know. And I was standing in Trafalgar Square, in a bag, for peace and all that. So separately we had that awareness, and we were expressing it in the ways that we could. I was doing it more freely because it was easier for me. So we were comparing notes after getting the letter, and then we were saying, “Well what about doing something together,” which was the Bed-In (and the film Bed-In), so Peter Watkin’s letter definitely did mean something to us.

 

MacDonald: How much control did you (or you and John) have over the way Bed-In looks? You credit a large crew on that film. What was your part in the final film, other than as performers?

 

Ono: We always maintained careful control over the finished films. I was generally in charge of editing, which I did for that film, and for others, frame by frame. I mean I would have a film editor working with me- I don’t know the technology- but I would be very specific about what I wanted. When Jonas [Mekas] did the John and Yoko screenings at Anthology [Anthology Film Archives], I had three editing machines and editors brought into our hotel room, and I edited Bed-In there because of the deadline.

 

I enjoy the editing part of filmmaking most of all; that’s where the films really get made.

 

MacDonald: Rape is often talked about as a parable of the media intruding into your lives, but when I saw it again the other week, it struck me as very similar to pieces in Grapefruit.

 

Ono: Well, they keep saying that. I’ll tell you what happened. By the time that I actually got to make the film, John and I were together, and the reporters were hounding us, but the Rape concept was something I thought of before John and I got together.

 

MacDonald: In Grapefruit there’s “Black Piece II,” a part of which is “Walk behind a person for four hours.”

 

Ono: It was that kind of thing, right. But it was also a film script

 

[“Film No.5 (Rape or Chase)”]

 

MacDonald: How candid is the Rape footage? It no longer looks candid to me.

 

Ono: It was completely candid- except for the effects we did later in the editing. The girl in the film did not know what was happening. Her sister was in on it, so when she calls her sister on the phone, her sister is just laughing at her and the girl doesn’t understand why. Nic Knowland did the actual shooting. I wasn’t there. Everything was candid, but I kept pushing him to bring back better material. The type of material he brought back at first was something like he would be standing on the street, and when a group of girls passed by, he would direct the camera to them. The girls would just giggle and run away, and he wouldn’t follow. I kept saying he could do better than that, be he actually had a personal problem doing the film because he was a Buddhist and a peacenik: he didn’t want to intrude on people’s privacy. I remember John saying later that no actress could have given a performance that real.

 

I’ve done tons of work, and I don’t have time to check it all out, but I wish I could check about this strange thing, which is that a lot of my works have been a projection of my future fate. It frightens me. It simply frightens me. I don’t want to see Rape now. I haven’t seen the Rape film in a long time, but just thinking about the concept of it frightens me because now I’m in that position, the position of the woman in the film.

 

MacDonald: In the video Walking on Thin Ice, we see a similar scene, but with you.

 

Ono: I know. And why did I think of that song? After I wrote that song all sorts of trouble started to happen, all of which was somehow related to the song, that feeling of walking on thin ice. Sometimes I intentionally try to write something positive. But in a situation like that, art comes first. I really thought “Walking on Thin Ice” was a good song when it came to me. I had no qualms about recording it. The artistic desire of expressing something supersedes the worry, I suppose, and you think, ah it’s nothing, it’s fine, it’s just a nice song or something; and then it turns out that it becomes my life and I don’t want that.

 

Just recently I was in this film where I performed as a bag lady [Homeless, by Yukihiko Tsutsumi, unreleased at time of interview]. I was a bit concerned what it might mean to enact a bag lady, in terms of future projections. But I reasoned that there are actors who die many times in films, but live long lives, so actually enacting death makes their real lives longer. Well, in the first scene it was a beautiful April day, one of those I’m-glad-to-be-in-New-York days, and I’m wearing these rags and I’m pushing an empty baby carriage in this beautiful green environment. And as I was doing it, I remembered the song “Greenfield Morning” and the line, “I pushed an empty baby carriage all over the city.” That was the first song we recorded for Yoko Ono’s Plastic Ono Band, and I think it’s in Grapefruit, too- I mean the instruction “Push an empty baby carriage” [See “City Piece: Walk all over the city with an empty baby carriage” (Winter, 1961) near the end of the first section (Music) of Grapefruit]. So I’m pushing the baby carriage and I’m thinking I don’t want to know about this. That aspect of projection is interesting, isn’t it?

 

MacDonald: Yes.

 

Ono: If you are somebody who makes films with a commercial concern or other concerns, other than just inspiration, maybe that sort of thing wouldn’t happen. I don’t know. But inspiration is very much connected with your life in past and future.

 

MacDonald: Apotheosis is a gorgeous film. It’s one of the collaborations that’s listed as John’s film, though the idea of stripping things away until you’ve got a white screen is very much like some of you work.

 

Ono: Well, I’ll tell you what happened. I think some of the instructions are already there in Grapefruit, or maybe not, maybe it’s one of the instructions that haven’t been published [Ono is referring to the second version of her film script, “Film No.1 (A Walk to the Taj Mahal)”]. There was a constant feeling of wanting to take an object that’s on the ground- not necessarily an object, could be a person- in fact the original idea was a drunken guy walking in a snowy field; you don’t see the drunken guy, but the camera suggests that he’s drunk because of the way it moves. So he walks and sways, and finally the camera goes up in the sky. When we did the cover for the “Two Virgins” album, where we were both naked, one of us said, “Why don’t we make a film where the camera moves from the ground up, shooting our naked bodies, and then just goes up in the air.” Later, John said, “Well, let’s make one where the camera goes up.” So the idea stemmed from that. What happened, of course, was that we didn’t expect the balloon film to be the way it was turned out. We went up in the balloon, and it happened to be a snowy day.

 

MacDonald: You were in the balloon with the camera?

 

Ono: Up to a certain point. The part where you go into the cloud, and then break out of the cloud, was taken later. The footage that came back from the lab was beautiful. It was just something that happened naturally, the dogs barking, everything that happened- it was an incredible experience. We didn’t expect it was going to be that beautiful. A lot of things just happen, you know.

 

MacDonald: If you allow them to, I guess.

 

Ono: Yes!

 

MacDonald: Fly seems almost the opposite of Apotheosis in a way; it seems…

 

Ono: Very much intentionally calculated?

 

MacDonald: Right.

 

Ono: It’s true

 

MacDonald: You did the sound [for the vocal piece Fly] before you did the film. Had you had the idea in mind then?

 

Ono: I was always thinking about the idea of fly. Actually, I was always fascinated with the pun “fly and “fly” in English. There was also a conceptual event about flies and where they fly to.

 

MacDonald: The piece you did for the Museum of Modern Art?

 

Ono: Yes. Did you see that Museum of Modern Art catalogue? [A 112-page, one foot by one foot catalogue- the title seems to be Museum of Modern FArt (Ono is carrying a shopping bag with the letter “F” directly beneath the Museum of Modern Art marquee)- which details her concept at length; the catalogue was designed by Ono and produced by Michael Gross.] At the end of that, I talk about how to fly,

 

MacDonald: I know the video with the sandwich-board guy in front of the Museum of Modern Art who interviews people about the Yoko Ono show that “isn’t there” [The Museum of Modern Art Show]. In the text for that piece, you explain how some flies were exposed to your perfume and let loose and that people are following those flies around to see where they land.

 

Ono: The catalogue was made for that event; it had all sorts of interesting stuff in it, about how to fly and all that. All the pages are postcards that you could mail, so the catalogue and Fly piece could fly all over the place.

 

MacDonald: So MoMA had this on sale?

 

Ono: No, no, no, no! MoMA would not do it. MoMA was busy saying to people, “There’s no Yoko Ono show here.” People would come in and ask, is there a Yoko Ono show, and they would say no. They were very upset; they didn’t know what was going on. I couldn’t sell the book anywhere. Nobody bought it, so I have piles of it.

 

MacDonald: Earlier, in the mid sixties, you did a number of descriptions of environmental boxes that the viewer would go inside of and images would be projected on the outside. Eyeblink was involved in a number of those descriptions, and another was called “Fly”. I guess the idea was that a viewer would go inside the box and on all sides you would project images that would create the sensation that the viewer was flying.

 

Ono: How do you know about those boxes?

 

MacDonald: I found the descriptions in the Fluxus Codex, in the Yoko Ono section [See John Hendricks, Fluxus Codex (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1988), p.418 for the descriptions]. Was either piece ever built?

 

Ono: They were never built. I haven’t seen these ideas since I did them. Whenever I had an idea, I sent it to George Maciunas. He probably kept them. I don’t even have the originals for those. I’ll have to get this book. You know, I have this thing about reading about me. When something about me is in a book, I mostly don’t want to know about it.

 

MacDonald: One of the interesting things about watching the film Fly is that one’s sense of what the body we’re seeing is about, and what the film is about, is constantly changing.

 

Ono: A cartoon in a newspaper gave me the idea. There’s this woman with a low-cut dress, and a guy is looking at her, and the guy’s wife says, “What are you looking at!” and the guy says, “Oh, I’m looking at a fly on her.” I wanted the film to be an experience where you’re always wondering, am I following the movement of the fly or am I looking at the body? I think that life is full of that kind of thing. We’re always sort of deceiving ourselves about what we’re really seeing.

 

MacDonald: Do you know the Willard Maas film, Geography of the Body? It’s all close-ups of bodies, framed so that you can’t quite tell what body part you’re looking at- but they all look erotic. Eyeblink is a little like that, and Fly is full of the same effect. If you go close enough, every part of the body looks the same, and they’re all equally erotic.

 

Ono: Oh, there’s an incredible film instruction that has to do with that close-up idea. It’s a travelogue [“Film No.13 (Travelogue”]. You have a travelogue to Japan or somewhere, and you say, “Well, now I’m on Mount Fuji,” and there’s an incredible close-up of stones; and then, “We bathed in a mixed bath,” and you see just steam- you get it?- and then, “We ate noodles,” and you see an incredible close-up of noodles… so in effect you can make a travelogue of any country without going out of your apartment! “Then we saw geisha girls,” and you see an incredible close-up of hair [laughter]. I wanted to make that, but I just never got around it.

 

MacDonald: Freedom [1970], the little one-minute film of you trying to take your bra off, was made the same year as Fly.

 

Ono: Yeah, isn’t that a great little film?

 

MacDonald: It’s so paradoxical. You show freedom as the ability to try to break free, which implies that you’re never really free.

 

Ono: Right, exactly.

 

MacDonald: You mentioned earlier that you didn’t think Up Your Legs Forever worked as well as No.4 (Bottoms). I thought it was interesting to see that people’s one leg is very different from their other leg.

 

Ono: The best thing about that film is the title, I think. My first vision for that film was like going up all the legs, up, up, up, to eternity. [“Film No. 12 (Esstacy)”- the misspelling of “ecstasy” is left as it was in the original film script, at Ono’s request]. But in making it, that vision got lost because of what was necessary to film the legs. I don’t know how you can do what I originally had in mind.

 

MacDonald: Jonas and Adolfas Mekas are thanked at the end of Up Your Legs Forever.

 

Ono: Because they did the editing. That was one of the few films I didn’t edit myself.

 

MacDonald: Somebody mentioned to me the other day, and I assume it’s not true, that Erection was originally a film about John’s penis. Was there a film like that?

 

Ono: Yes, there was. But it wasn’t called Erection. I think it was called Self Portrait, and it wasn’t an erection, it was just a long shot of his penis. That was his idea. The funny thing was that Self Portrait was never questioned by customs because of it’s title, and Erection, which was about the erection of a building , was questioned.

 

MacDonald: Is there a relation between the 1971 version of Imagine and the recent Imagine: John Lennon?

 

Ono: There’s no relationship. We wanted to make surrealistic film in the tradition of Luis Bunuel and Jean Cocteau. It was John’s idea to say just one or two words at the beginning, and make the reset of the film silent, like silent movie. I liked that idea and we did it. I think that now it’s more or less known as a forefather of MTV. Each scene came from some idea John or I had. It was really a collaboration between John and me.

 

MacDonald: Are you involved in film now? Are you planning to make films? You made several videos in the early eighties, but it’s been a while since you’ve made a film.

 

Ono: I don’t know; it might get to that. I’m one of those people who can’t do something unless I’m totally motivated. That’s one of the reasons I jump from one medium to another. I did the Whitney Museum show, and suddenly all the inspiration is sculptural; and then last night or the night before, I went to the studio to do some music. But I’m not getting that feeling like I gotta make a film- except for The Tea Party [the film script “Film No.7 (Tea Party)”]: for years I’ve been wanting to make that one, but because of the technical difficulties I don’t seem to be able to get it together. I think one of the reasons I’m not making more films is that I’ve done so many film scripts. I’d like to see one of them made by somebody else. Maybe one day out of the blue I’ll feel it so strongly that I’ll make a film myself again.

 

"623 of pinoyphotog's photos have been in Explore":

 

BigHugeLabs sorted my photos that have appeared on Explore, just for

April Fool's Day! :))

 

The complete list below (in their respective HTML codes), is just for

posterity's sake, to mark the one year (last month) that I've been

addicted to flickr.

 

BWAHAHAHAHA! <<<< (lunatic laughter, as if you didn't know)

 

Page 1:

 

1. Duck Pins Nervously Awaiting The Ball!, 2. This Bird Can Take Off Sideways!, 3. Maybe It's Training For The Olympics? :p, 4. "Believe! I AM Your Guardian Angel!", 5. How's This For A Dramatic Landing? :), 6. "Houston, Our Landing Gear Is Leaking!", 7. Its Final Flight For The Day, 8. Winged And Speedy, Just Like Mercury!,

 

9. "Huh! What Just Flew Over Me?", 10. The Zig-Zaggy Way To The Mountaintop, 11. "It's Not A Picnic Without Food!" :p, 12. "Late For An Appointment," Part Two, 13. The Simple Joys of Backyard Fishing, 14. Neither A Florida Autumn Nor Infrared., 15. "I'm Auditioning For Cirque Du Soleil!", 16. "One-eyed One-horned Flying Purple People Eaters",

 

17. What Tales Would The Tag Tell?, 18. "Sky Blue Looks Good On You!", 19. Sunset Tree.redux, 20. Wow! What A Rear Window View!, 21. A Picture Of Poetry In Motion, 22. Egret Reflection.Redux, 23. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/2144797969/, 24. "Come With Me And Fly Free!",

 

25. "C'mon, Baby...Let's Do Da Twist!", 26. To Be Free As A Bird, 27. A Giant Bird Terrorizes The City! :p, 28. Peek-A-Boo!, 29. "The Whole Sky Is A Stage", 30. Blue Bird With A Blue Fish, 31. Fast Food!!!, 32. "Left Turn Signal," Snowy Egret Style. :),

 

33. Smokies: Where Stallions Still Roam Free!, 34. "...Precious Days I'll Spend With You.", 35. Having Escaped Gravity's Grasp, It Rejoices!, 36. How Skylines Change In One Year, 37. The Mighty Thundercloud Wears A Crown, 38. The Lake's Electric Blue At Dusk, 39. "Dang! This Water Is Too Cold!" *, 40. May Freedom Soon Soar Over Burma!,

 

41. Not A Bird, For A Change. :p, 42. Can You Guess What This Is?, 43. "Ready Or Not, Here I Cooommme...!, 44. Sunrise. By The Lake's Far End., 45. The Smiling Red Barn Say "Hi!", 46. Watch Out! The Clouds Are Falling! :p, 47. The BatSignal! Hurry, To The BatCave!, 48. Lake Birds Waiting For Their Dates :p,

 

49. Set The People of Burma Free!, 50. "Swan'derful" (with apologies to George Gershwin*), 51. Giant Pussy Gato or Big Dog? :p, 52. "Hah! I Got Here First, Slowpoke!", 53. "Yikes! It's Gonna Swallow Da Plane!", 54. "Where Lights Are Bright Every Night!", 55. "Will Somebody Turn Off The Wind!", 56. One Last Time*: The Cranky Egret!** :p,

 

57. Desperately Seeking Shelter From The Rain, 58. What!? Haven't Seen A Fence-sitter Before?, 59. "OK, Where Are You Taking Us?", 60. One Even Has "Take Home" Food. :), 61. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/314665245/, 62. Ode To A Fabulous Sunset Sky!, 63. "Is Beer Really For The Birds?", 64. "Ok! Whose Neck Is Longest Now?",

 

65. Seeking Seashells On The Sunny Seashore, 66. There's The Man In The Moon! *, 67. "Blue Skies, Nothing But Blue Skies...", 68. Can y'all see "The Angry Dragon?", 69. "Who You Callin' Cock-Eyed, Huh? Who?", 70. Is This Bird Wearing Diving Goggles?, 71. She'll Smile Forever, In "Gold Relief." :), 72. Really? You Like My Blue Eyes?

 

Page 2:

 

1. Reflections, 2. What If Trees Lost Their Colors?, 3. "Holy Batman! Could This Be Robin?" :p, 4. T'was Way Past The "Magic Hour...", 5. "Land Ho! Or Something Like That..." :), 6. "Jonathan" Dropped By The Lake Today!, 7. "Get OUT Of MY Landing Pattern!", 8. Holiday Lights Are Ablaze In SOBE*,

 

9. Duck Bowling Ball, 10. "Mooove! They're Going To Overtake Us!", 11. Off To Greet The Morning Sun, 12. Found! The Elusive Ring Headed Bird! :p, 13. Ever Seen A Square Cloud Before? :p, 14. Tinged With The Color Of Sunset, 15. Morning-After Empties, 16. An Angry Face In The Clouds!,

 

17. "And For My Next Violin Solo...", 18. The Clouds Hid The Sun Today..., 19. 250 Rooms; Just As Many Ghosts?, 20. Waiting For The Eyes To Blink?, 21. "It's The First Day Of Spring! Whoopee!", 22. Ghosts And Ghouls Ready For Halloween?, 23. "You Put Your Right Foot In..." :), 24. Off To The Wild Blue Yonder!,

 

25. Nature's Beauty and Fury: One Shot!, 26. "Itsy-Bitsy? That's A BIG Spider!" :p, 27. Either It's Dancing Or Falling Over :p, 28. An Ibis Doing A Swan Dive Is Still An Ibis, Right?, 29. "Through The Eyes Of A Child", 30. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/1510392392/, 31. Thinks My Lens Is A Fish?, 32. Behold! Its Wings Shimmer Like Silver!,

 

33. Hey! Somebody Call The Fire Department!, 34. Thumbing Thru My Life's Varied Sunsets, 35. Entrance: $10; Peace and Quiet: Priceless!, 36. A Day At The Beach Ends, 37. There's A Face In The Smoke, 38. Waterspout!, 39. Do You See What I See?, 40. Ain't No Eclipse, But It'll Do! :p,

 

41. A Haven For The Troubled Soul, 42. Day's Dying Embers, As Twilight Nears..., 43. It's All About Power, 44. "The Boat Rides We Would Take...", 45. “Red Sky At Night, Sailor’s Delight...", 46. Water Walker, 47. Fire In The Sky!, 48. Choking In A Sea Of Mercury,

 

49. "Can't A Grackle Bathe In Peace?" *, 50. They're Heeeeeerrrr!, 51. "Why Is Your Camera Upside Down?", 52. "In The Evening Of My Life...", 53. A Starship About To Engage Hyperdrive!, 54. Say "Ahhh", 55. "Some Things Are Dearer Than Gold", 56. Feeding Frenzy At The Morikami Gardens!,

 

57. Adrift,* Up Close, 58. WWII Vintage Jeep, 59. Water Dipper, 60. "Is That Pesky Photographer Still Around?", 61. Help! Sprung A Leak! I'm Sinkinggg!!!, 62. "Yikes! That's A Shark! A Shark!!!", 63. "No!!! This Is NOT Loch Ness!", 64. A Powerful Display Of Avian Flight!,

 

65. Haaaappy New Yearrrr!, 66. "I'm At The End Of What...?", 67. Eyeing A Hawk Eyeing Its Prey, 68. Love Knows No Bounds, 69. Can A Beautiful Horse Feel Sad?, 70. 20,028th View*! Thank You, Flickr Friends!, 71. Woof! Who Let The Dog Out?, 72. I Wonder Who Lost A Shoe?

  

Page 3:

 

1. "Bird2, You Are Cleared For Take-Off...", 2. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/357743617/, 3. "You'd Think They Were Ocean Waves!", 4. "The Moon Dances On Blue Waters", 5. Red Is The Color Of Blood..., 6. Starburst, 7. Egret Reflection, 8. Heaven's Window,

 

9. Homeward Bird, 10. Upright Walker, 11. One Bird, Two Shots *, 12. Windows To The Soul, 13. The Spot. The Chase. The Catch!, 14. "It's Autumn Still In Conyers, Georgia", 15. "No, I'm Not An Ostrich! Why?", 16. Cape Canaveral Caper,

 

17. Enjoy It Before It's Gone Forever, 18. Backlit, 19. Spread Your Wings And Fly Away!, 20. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/855810766/, 21. Can You Guess What This Is? :p, 22. "Sunset's Always Been Good To Me", 23. Sunflower, Up Close, 24. "By The Lake," An Infrared Perspective,

 

25. Thought It Was A Falling Satellite!, 26. "Ta-ta! I'm Late For An Appointment!", 27. They're All Vying For Her Love! :p, 28. See The Sphinx? With Boxing Gloves?, 29. Flexing Its Wing, Wanting To Fly, 30. Day Turns To Night Too Soon., 31. The Whole Sky's A (Wider) Stage. :p, 32. "Birds Do It, Bees Do It...",

 

33. "See Forever On A Clear Day", 34. A Raptor's Majesty, Captured! (and framed), 35. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/867134877/, 36. Floating Free In The Sunset's Glow..., 37. My Favorite Sunset Hawk Visited Today..., 38. "I'm An Owl, I'm An Owl!"*, 39. E.T., phone home!, 40. Even Clouds Cry Out: "FREE BURMA!",

 

41. "Hey! Give Me Back My Fish!", 42. "Brown Angels" Precision Flying Team :p, 43. T'was A Rainbow Kind Of Sunset, 44. "My Turn To Belly Flop! Woohoo!", 45. Nature's Law: Survival of the Fittest., 46. It Stopped To Smell The Flowers?, 47. Monsters Stalk The Moon And Mars!, 48. There's A Cabin In The Woods...,

 

49. I Swear That Tree Glows Blue! :p, 50. "Is That A Horse Up There?", 51. "Steaming Bowl" On An "Anvil," Close-Up, 52. Night of the Full Moon, 53. Sunset Watching While Stuck In Traffic, 54. "What? Me, Do A Swan Dive?", 55. "Is This Close 'Nuff For Ya?", 56. Flight Of The Headless Snowy Egret,

 

57. "Hello! Can You Hear Me Now?", 58. Caught In Mid-Flight: Grace and Majesty, 59. Looks Like She's On Water Skis, 60. "Birds? We Weren't Chasing No Birds!", 61. Streamlined: See How Flat It Flies!, 62. Ripples In A Pond Of Blue, 63. Miami by Night, 64. Parakeet Seeks Partner Who Loves Heights.,

 

65. "...Think It Will Fall On Us?", 66. "Enough! Go Shoot That Egret, Instead!", 67. "Toenail Polish Dry Yet? We're Late!!!", 68. *"Ok, So I'm Not An Owl!", 69. Flying Off To Race The Sun, 70. Dove Doesn't Like Its Picture Taken!, 71. "Help! I'm Stuck To The Fence!", 72. My Christmas Wish, Two Years Running*

  

Page 4:

 

1. While I'm Stuck In Traffic Jams, 2. "Golden Wings In The Morning Sun", 3. Egads! An Elephant! And It's Pink-ish!, 4. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/1849864151/, 5. (This Is) Too Close For Comfort!, 6. Sadness In This Dark Place Dwells, 7. My Christmas Wish, 8. A Haven For My Weary Soul,

 

9. Its Wings Are Like An Angel's..., 10. Yes! Please Turn Off The Wind!*, 11. Do Black Cats Dream In Color?, 12. Can't Get Any Closer Than This!, 13. Torpedo Duck, 14. Flying Feathers, 15. "Never Shoot Against The Light," Right?, 16. Zeeeebra!,

 

17. An Eagle-Eyed Egret, 18. Isn't That The Big Bad Wolf Up There?, 19. And So The Race Is On!, 20. Flying Over, On The Way Home..., 21. Yikes! I'm Seeing Things Once Again!, 22. Here Be The Bird Of P're!, 23. Propeller-scarred Porpoise?, 24. "The Osprey Surprised Me Once Again!",

 

25. Driving Through Fog At Three a.m., 26. This Grackle Thinks She's A Hawk! :p, 27. Circus Lady, 28. Mercedes Turns Turtle, 29. She's Smoothly Sailing Down..., 30. Love The Blue In Their Wings!, 31. Something Down There Wants Bread, Too!, 32. "I'll Jump Through Hoops For Peanuts!",

 

33. "The Sky Was Full Of Dragons..." *, 34. The Stare! ("Wanna Piece Of Me?"), 35. "It's All About Power," Take Two!, 36. Egret. In B&W, Crosshatch., 37. Once Upon A Quiet Sunday Afternoon..., 38. "Swingside" View Of The Fireworks Display!, 39. White On White, Though Not Quite, 40. All Together Now...1...2...3!,

 

41. A Foggy Morning In South Florida, 42. Blazing Sky, 43. "My Trick's Playing Eyes On Me!" :)), 44. "Gotta Test Drive This New SUV!", 45. Snowboarding On Top Of Ol' Smoky, 46. Now Look What You've Done, Dee! :p, 47. The Store From Way Back When..., 48. Visiting Birds Are Flying Back North...,

 

49. "What Bug? I Ate No Bug!", 50. Another Look At The "Deer Chaser", 51. Sunset Hunt: A Story of Survival..., 52. Ol' Weathered Woodie, 53. Doesn't It Look Like A Wind Chime? :)), 54. Soon These Will Drop Like Bombs, 55. Come Any Closer..., 56. "Which End Is Your Head, Again?",

 

57. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/1218251786/, 58. How It Began..., 59. "Somebody Grab My Wings, I'm Falling...", 60. "This Is How You Fly, Guys!", 61. Is This Why It's "Smoky Mountains?", 62. Looks Like It's Ready To Fly!, 63. "By Gad, It's Full Of Stars..."*, 64. Siblings (Oh, To Be Young Again!),

 

65. Fire Dancers' Grand Finale, 66. "Dinner Will Be Fish And Salad!", 67. "Where Da Heck Is That Mailman?", 68. "Maverick! I Have Target In Sight!", 69. Half Moon Piercing Through The Mist, 70. Fashionably Color-Coordinated(?), 71. Blazin', 72. Snow In Florida, This is Not. :p

 

===============================================================

 

Page 5:

 

1. "And It's Off To Somewhere Else...", 2. Sunstreaks, 3. Blue Sky Bird, 4. Sunset Tree, 5. It Almost Looks Like Abstract Art, 6. It's Like A Roller Coaster Ride!, 7. Trying To Scare A Photographer Off?, 8. Meet "Spike," Da Groovy Muscovy Duck!,

 

9. "Can You Straighten A Crooked Neck?", 10. "Hi! And How Are Y'all Doin'?", 11. That "Swallowed The Canary" Kind of Smile, 12. Fighting For Bread: A Daily Struggle., 13. My Backyard Osprey, In Infrared B&W, 14. The "End Of The Rainbow" Eyrie, 15. Stingray!, 16. Camera Ssshake,

 

17. Peeking Pussy Cat, 18. A Scene From An Old Movie?, 19. The Bronc-Busting Tales Of "Rodeo Dove!", 20. "Intimidation!" The Name of the Game., 21. Aflame, Autumn Tries To Hold On., 22. Got Another "Bronzed Wing" Shot Today!, 23. "Whoa! What The Heck Are You???", 24. Lit With Nothing But A Bonfire.,

 

25. Balancing Dragon..................................... (waiting for tardy tiger) :p, 26. Grackles Hovering In Mid-air, Ala Hummingbirds?, 27. Big And Small, Which Is Which? :), 28. Florida Fog: Out In The Streets!, 29. A "Steaming Bowl," On An "Anvil.", 30. Where Did The Other Half Go? ;p, 31. A Store From Way Back When?, 32. Fiery Ford,

 

33. Fiery Sundown, 34. The Pelican and The Porpoises, 35. "Here Comes The Sun, Guys! Guys???, 36. Faeries Still Exist. If You Believe. :), 37. Move Over, I'm Driving!, 38. Boogie Boarder!, 39. The Upside Of Waking Up Early..., 40. "Boy! Am I Watching Your Six!" :p,

 

41. "Mallard See, Mallard Do", 42. The Sky Is Blue, Above The Gloomy Clouds, 43. Risking Bird Poo On My Lens! :p, 44. Who Cares About The Traffic, Right? :), 45. "Get This Out Of My Face!", 46. "Homeward Bound, I Wish I Was...", 47. Through A Looking Glass, In Infrared., 48. The Fire Within,

 

49. They Wanted To Wade With Birds..., 50. Flower Tears? Of Joy!, 51. Watizzit?, 52. Not To Crow About Ducks, But..., 53. "Hey! Got Me In Focus Yet?", 54. "The Serenity of Silence" IR, 55. Adrift In A Sea Of Pollution, 56. Wahine,

 

57. Faaaii'yer!, 58. Blue Jay on the Hunt, 59. An Ingenious Way To Protect Crops, 60. Masked Bandit :p, 61. Trying To Survive..., 62. Night Lights, 63. Jonathan Livingston Water-Walker, 64. They, Too, Are Thankful It's Friday!,

 

65. Hola, Amigos! Let's Do The "Papaya!", 66. "I Know It's In Here, Somewhere!", 67. "Guess Where My Right Foot Went!", 68. Duck Tail with a Tea Cup Handle, 69. Drawn To The Fire That Burns, 70. Double Dip. Double Dunk. Double Duck! :p, 71. "Please Guide Us Through The Night...", 72. Lost Bird Needs Help Getting Home?

  

Page 6:

1. "Gotta Git Me A Biiiig Fish!", 2. Swan Shape, 3. Lady Grackle, Up Close, 4. I Caught The "Something Down There*!", 5. Gone Overboard With "Pirates," I Have!, 6. Dive Bomber! (Or King Belly Flopper?), 7. Three/Quarter Light, 8. Pond.In.Metallic.Blue.,

 

9. "Where Are Those Bubbles Coming From?", 10. They're All Marching To Different Drummers!, 11. The "Snowball Sniper" Strikes! Once! Twice!, 12. Frayed and Faded Photograph, NOT! :p, 13. Slippin' And Slidin'..., 14. The Happy, Carefree Lives Of Parakeets!, 15. Here's Another Aerial Left Turn Signal! :p, 16. Pardon My Rant About The Cormorant...,

 

17. Air Walker: Is Avian Weightlessness True?, 18. "Come, Let's Step Back In Time!", 19. Soon The Snowball Battle Is Joined!, 20. Flower Lover, 21. High Noon Hunter, 22. Posing Like It's A Hood Ornament. :)), 23. "The Bee Wakes Up At Dusk!", 24. Strictly For Fishing (And Quiet Meditation),

 

25. From The Sky, Looking Down, 26. Framed Frame, 27. A Closer Look At The Fish And Salad Diner, 28. "This Is How You Scare Fish!", 29. Like Scars Across Mother Nature's Cheek, 30. "D'ya Really Think That's A UFO?", 31. "Hah! Told You He Couldn't Fly!", 32. Classic Camaro,

 

33. Fish-Eating Cat Attempts To Catch Catfish*, 34. Letting Go Of "Good Ol' Blue...", 35. "A Time Machine Built For Two", 36. Vintage Blue!, 37. Grebe, Groping for Grub*, 38. St. Augustine's Bridge of Lions, Revisited, 39. They're Doing It Below The Waterline..., 40. An Enviable Breakfast On The Beach,

 

41. "Full Throttle Violation of Tranquility.", 42. "I Want A Big Fish, Please!", 43. The Sun Boils On Live Wires, 44. Oh, To Hear The Streams Singing..., 45. A Bee In Winter, 46. To Infinity..., 47. A Hiding Lady Duck :), 48. "Here's Your Flying Bowling Pin, *DEE~!",

 

49. Nature Lords It Over Man's Creations! :p, 50. Fil-Am Fotogs First Weekly Contest Winner, 51. Parakeet Flight Pattern (say that thrice! :p), 52. Off To The Wild Blue Yonder!, 53. Because We're All In This Together..., 54. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/458240597/, 55. In A World Of His Own, 56. Green Eyes,

 

57. Bird Leap.03, 58. She Stands Out In A Crowd :), 59. "Shooting a TV screen, part II", 60. Starlight Express, 61. Grebe Attempts To Fly But Can Only Hop!, 62. What? How Many Miles Per Gallon???, 63. Surface Skimmer, 64. Floating Flower,

 

65. Those Are Not Indoor Lights!, 66. Arrrgh! My Air Brake's Not Working!", 67. Fiery Afternoon, 68. "Walk The Plank? What Plank? Arrggghh!, 69. Freeze Frame: Twix Cast And Catch, 70. "Are Ya Blind, Ump? He's SAFE!", 71. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/327916921/, 72. Why Did The Lizard Cross The Road?

 

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Page 7:

 

1. "Oh, Spring Is Here, I Hear..." :D, 2. And The Moorhen's Torment Goes On..., 3. Toad Guardian of the Smoky Mountains!, 4. "Are We There Yet?", 5. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/571041855/, 6. May Flowers, 7. Black Bird On A Red Wheel, 8. This Is Love @ First Sight,

 

9. The Hawk Hangs Out To Dry! :), 10. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/2273237451/, 11. WireWalker Wannabe, 12. Red Dawn: Sunrise Of Another Kind, 13. The Twilight Zone at High Noon, 14. Fish Kiss, 15. Once Part Of Someone's Happy Days, 16. The Setting Sun's Magic: Bronzed Wings!,

 

17. Black Belt Mama: Torn Between Loves, 18. Headed Home, 19. The Flying Lesson Continues..., 20. The Official Butterfly of Florida, 21. Peekin' Parakeet Plays "Hide And Seek!", 22. "How'd Ya Like To Prowl Tonight?", 23. The Making of: "A Birthday Candle", 24. Do You Believe In The Otherworldly?,

 

25. Under The Sun, After The Rain, 26. Bird Leap.02, 27. Rebirth, 28. Spidey Long Legs, 29. For youtube???, 30. And The Chase Is On!!!, 31. "Boogie's Easy! Just Dance Like This!", 32. "The Proper Way To Drink Water" *,

 

33. There's A Bird In There Somewhere, 34. A Rose As Cold As Ice, 35. MoonDuck ;p, 36. Fire Dancer, Too, 37. Of Birds and Babes, 38. "Do It Sharp -- If You Can't, Call It Art" *, 39. "Ya Think You Can Catch Me?", 40. "The Karate Kid" Ibis,

 

41. "We Are Watching Youuuuu...", 42. Sky Cross, 43. Frustrated Weekend Warriors, 44. Could Have Been "Love In The Afternoon", 45. Here We Go Again!, 46. Where Ms. Chiquita Gets Her Bananas., 47. To Each His Own Snow Thing!, 48. A Bridge Across Time and Space,

 

49. Too Close Close-Up, 50. In Search Of Diptychs? :p, 51. Ravaged, Beneath The Turbulent Waves!, 52. The Kick-Start Method Of Taking Off!, 53. Guava! Fruit Of My Childhood Years!, 54. Flight Training For The Trip North?, 55. What Happens When You're Too Late..., 56. Kickin' Up A Dust Storm! ;p,

 

57. Bird Leap.01, 58. Closer Look, 50 cents, 59. One-Legged Pirate? :p, 60. Can You Guess What Bird This Is? :), 61. They Could Give 'Precision Flying' Lessons!, 62. Sunset Seagulls: Pair Of Aerial Dancers, 63. Tactfully, They Asked Him To Leave..., 64. "Land Ho! We See It, Too!" *,

 

65. I Really Should Be Painting Again..., 66. Of Neon Sunsets and Magenta Bridges, 67. Flight of the Solitary Seagull..., 68. The View From Under The Water?, 69. Hop, Skip & Fly, 70. "Wind Chime," Two Conversions, 71. Sunset-Streaked Egret..., 72. An Angry Grebe?

  

Page 8:

 

1. Dance Of The Birthday Boy, 2. Teaching Her How To Fly, 3. Double Take Off, 4. Mean Mallard Shoos Visiting Bird Away., 5. This Hawk Likes Fish For Lunch!, 6. She Can Stop On A Dime!, 7. "Psst! That Pesky Photographer Still Around?, 8. Biker Belle, Is It Summer Yet?,

 

9. Secret Revealed: Santa "Somebody"'s Day Job, 10. A Bavarian Windmill In Helen, GA?, 11. "Like Ships Passing In The Night" *, 12. Seems The Idea Worked. Or Not. *, 13. "Stretch," Alias "Nick" (Note Left Ear), 14. Lonesome Loner, Even Lonelier Li'l Puppy, 15. Pelican Landing, 16. Paternal Twins,

 

17. When Frozen Water Is Not Ice*, 18. "Every Neighborhood Has A Pair, Right?" :), 19. Just 25 Steps From Our Driveway..., 20. "I Can Dance Like Them, Too!", 21. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/428945637/, 22. Nest Egg, 23. "Don't Be Such A Chicken! JUMP!", 24. "To The Winner Goes The Prize!",

 

25. These "Kids" Had Fun Last Night, 26. Nonconformist.*, 27. Gals On The Rocks...Uh, Boulders? :), 28. Zoom! Zoom!, 29. The Ladder That Leads To Nowhere*, 30. Swimming Stalker :p, 31. New Visitors To Our Backyard Lake, 32. Bullied Moorhen's Turn To Taunt Tormentor!,

 

33. "Ho-ho-ho! And A Bottle Of Rhum!", 34. He's About To Leave The Building! :p, 35. Hey, No Fair! Wait For Me!, 36. Flying Floridian, 37. Trail Ride, 38. Bird Lady, 39. Food Fight - Survival of the Fittest, 40. Fire Hydrant Freddy,

 

41. Pelican Row, 42. "Hello! How Are You?", 43. All It Lacks Is A Rainbow! :), 44. Stone Mountain Memorial Carving, DeKalb, GA, 45. Playing Possum, 46. Florida Sunbather, 47. Fish HeadStand, 48. Framed!,

 

49. Hot Rods!, 50. Reflected Raindrops, 51. Where Have All The Dragons Gone?, 52. Hot Tin Roof; Where'sThe Cat?, 53. In A Hurry To Go Nowhere..., 54. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/2050300668/, 55. Four Aces, 56. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/297419557/,

 

57. I Guess Flickr Folks Like Cats..., 58. "Golden Wings" Made It To Explore, 59. Lost In The Serenity Of Silence, 60. Hark! What Lurks Beyond The Trees, 61. Shelby's Beauty!, 62. What It Sez..., 63. Blue-Eyed Bird, 64. Fil-Am Fotogs 2nd Weekly Contest Winner,

 

65. Collision Course, 66. Motion Blur, 67. The Colors Of Dance, 68. Eyes That Stare In The Dark, 69. In There With Kabayan Farl!, 70. Dance: Hidden Language of the Soul, 71. Unique Musical Instrument, 72. No-View Mirror

===============================================================

Page 9:

 

1. "Don't Worry, I Won't Bite Her", 2. Fleet Hands, Too Fast To "Freeze", 3. Is It Spring Yet?, 4. Light & Shadow, 5. Turnpike Turnover, 6. Starting 'Em Young, 7. "...Shall Pass This Way But Once...", 8. He's Not Lookin' Where He's Goin'!,

 

9. Piano Room, 10. The Night The Moon Wore A Crown, 11. "A Drink, A Drink..., 12. "Got Me Some Cereals...", 13. Sunset Tree.Redux.Explore, 14. Bargain-Hunting_Bass, 15. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/548439812/, 16. The Olde Manse, Circa 1887,

 

17. The Rideaway Bride, 18. Pelican Take-off, 19. Loner, 20. Homin', 21. Anna Ruby Falls, Foot Travel Only, 22. The Georgia Queen, 23. Horse Shoe Junction, 24. Who Would Have Thunk? :P,

 

25. If You Could Only Box History!, 26. flickr.com/photos/82285392@N00/1393994838/, 27. Bird Man, 28. DoubleTrouble ;p, 29. Speed Limit Enforcer ;p, 30. Rollin' Stars & Stripes, 31. Tomorrow's Drift Racing King, 32. New Lake Visitors, Another Shot,

 

33. Red Stairs, River Street, Savannah GA, 34. To Each His Own, 35. Time Warp, 36. For Every Flag, A Fallen Soldier, 37. Blue Skies, 38. Circus Lady.2, 39. Savannah Saxman, 40. The Pied Piper, er...Smoker! :p,

 

41. "We'll Be Home Soon, Gran'ma!", 42. SS-R, 43. Explore, 44. Facade Colors and Patterns, 45. Looks Real!, 46. Look Closely, She's Drinking Up There!

.

    

.

   

The doors were closed as Julie arrived. Not a flicker of light inside the darkened recesses of the cheaply decorated restaurant as she placed the sopping wet end of her almost finished roll up back into her mouth and drew heavily on the nicotine which raced through her throat like an impetuous puppy dog chasing a ball.

 

Broadway Street was blissfully quiet on this end of season morning before the few tourists and locals who normally ventured out for a caffeine fix or the delights of a brunch, had shown their grubby little faces.

 

Another day of purgatory beckoned. Summer hours, oh such joy. She dreamed of those heady days of being seventeen once more, back to High school and the summer of nineteen sixty nine when she was crowned the proms beauty queen and Tommy Jay could not keep from putting his sticky hands and fingers all over the respectfully grateful and obliging recesses of her pert little body back then. But times change and the march of time cannot be halted by wishful thinking or fanciful notions.

 

Feeling a strand of hair brush against her nose, one which had somehow, miraculously evaded the bombardment of extra firm hold lacquer which had, as always, been liberally applied in an effort to keep the wayward beast at bay, Julie reached up with her right hand. Her eyes focussed upon the dry and wrinkled skin that clung to the bones in her hand, her gaze turning towards her reflection in the doorway glass which was most unflattering in it's portrayal of her features.

 

Life, it seems takes hold of those who so rapidly age, and despite recollections of youth that seemed just a matter of a few short years previously, Lady fate had intervened and dined upon the trials and tribulations of her misfortune, spitting out a dried up husk where once there had been such fresh faced beauty. She had not been the only one to view life through the bottom of an empty whiskey glass, as lady fate herself had raised her glass and toasted her sad demise.

 

She hardly recognised the washed out face now staring back at her in the smeary glass frontage. Now Sixty years worth of hopes and aspirations, self abuse and neglect had taken their toll as shallow, soulless eyes screamed from behind the thickly applied black mascara that would not have looked out of place on a Broadway rendition of the Rocky Horror picture show.

 

" You gotta be seen by the punters at the back Kid, lift the roof with that voice of yours"

 

She could hear her mothers proud words and see her standing there wiping non existent specks of dirt from her daughters cheeks with her wet handkerchief. Memories like daggers to the heart as a tiny pool of water welled within the confines of her right eye, causing her to gently drive it away with her fingers, laughing at her own frailties as she looked around and hoped that nobody had seen her. For a moment or too she stood and stared at her reflection, looking deeply like she had not done since the days of her stardom. Bleached blonde hair way too youthful for her advancing years, craggy flesh and wrinkles painted by layers of foundation that could no longer hide the bitter truth were hard to take. Singing the words to a Joe Walsh tune that she had back home in her collection, she threw her cigarette onto the floor in disgust.

 

" Life's been good to me so far "

 

Placing her black shiny stiletto over the cigarette she pushed down, arms folded across her chest and swivelled her foot to finish off those dying embers.

 

"Ain't that the bitch"

 

A husband who had long since left her for the youthful baby sitter with the perky breasts and buns like a gym teacher, who used to look after their son, and the memories of life before body shaper under garments which scooped up the lumps and bumps, sucked in the cellulite and kept everything self contained and pacified like a lion tamers whip and chair to his quarry, were all that now remained. And Arnie would soon be here to complete the misery of her demeanour.

 

Every inch the antithesis of the modern man, overweight and oversexed, rolls of putrid flab bouncing down from his stomach and erupting over his belt loops as gravity did her worst, chubby little fingers like hand made sausages with their innards exploding out of the seams pushing on the sellotaped black plastic frames of those Lennon styled spectacles which did their best to balance upon his squat nose and cauliflower ears. How he loved to fondle and grope whatever flesh of hers that he could grab on every occasion that she needed to pass him in the kitchen gantry as he prepared the fried gastronomic disasters that he coughed and sneezed over for the paying customers. She could almost taste his body odour without him being present, and smell the halitosis which emanated from within that vile and toothless mouth from which he offered regularly the speculative desires with which he hoped to fulfil on her reluctant flesh.

 

Summer hours and the prospect of staying till late each night, way past the time when the last sleepy punters had been prised from their twentieth coffee refill and pushed out into the moonlit night. The thrill of cashing up with that fat fuck trying any which way to get a hand in those armoured knickers of hers, when the only stiff thing that she required came out of a bottle and read forty per cent proof on the side in pleasingly bolt font. She'd stumble home in those damned high heels, eventually conceding defeat and whipping them off to walk barefoot those last few hundred yards to her grimy backstreet apartment five floors up in a part of town where even the muggers were scared to venture out alone.

 

How life can suck sometimes.

 

Looking down at her suitably cheesey peach and white uniform, Julie afforded herself a wry smile. It seemed like gravity had spent more than the prerequisite time on her body as she noticed how everything seemed to have shifted and gone south of the state line these days. Had her left breast always been so lopsided, or was it just the cut of her blouse, she pondered.

 

“ Ma would turn in her grave”, she murmured, as she raised her left wrist and gazed at the miniscule black hands on her Timex wristwatch, given to her by her son the last Christmas before he moved away for good. Now she treasured his rare phone calls and even more the infrequent letters promising one day that he'd visit with Melissa and the kids, though that had never yet happened. Those letters remained filed and placed within the pretty pink cardboard box that nestled underneath her creaky old worn out bed in that cockroach infested apartment.

 

“ For Christ's sake Arnie, you annoying little fat man, where the hell are you “, she rattled off impatiently, turning to scour the streets for any sign of her employer. Whoever would have thought it. Seven bucks an hour taking orders from happy folk who little knew the pain and turmoil that their dutiful and attentive waitress felt within, nor the life that she might have had if she had followed her talent and not been quite so timid. Once the words of Streisand, Ella Fitzgerald, Elkie Brooks and Julie London used to leave her lips, whereas these days only regret and sadness seemed to do so.

 

“ Cry me a river..... I'm positively God damned drowning in those tears honey “

 

It was a quarter to eleven, fifteen minutes before opening time. Fifteen all too brief minutes until the clock hands reached their destination, heralding the sheer unadulterated hell of another working day to keep the drinks cupboard stocked and the demons at bay. Such a long fall from grace. And oh so quick was that fall. But old habits die hard and perhaps there was a little show still left inside the girl. Just then, Julie felt the urge to sway and sing, like a scene from a Gene Kelly film, Ginger Rogers to Fred Astaire as she shimmied as best she could in those high heels, swivelling her ageing hips and singing away, oblivious to all and sundry around her at the time.

 

“ Old man trouble, I don't mind him, You won't find him round my door I've got starlight”

 

In her mind, Julie was transported back to those days of seventeen when she was that beauty queen, back to the days when she could sing and dance and the sparkle and effervescence had not yet left those jaded eyes. In her mind, she still had it.

 

In her mind.

   

.

 

Written on December 2nd 2011

 

Photograph taken at 09:43am on August 30th 2011 off Broadway Street and the North Roosevelt highway 101 in Seaside, off the Oregon Coast Highway 101, Oregon, USA.

  

Nikon D700 48mm 1/125s f/9.0 iso200

 

Nikkor AF-S 24-70mm f/2.8G ED IF. UV filter. Nikon GP-1 GPS. Hand held

  

LATITUDE: N 45d 59m 35.32s

LONGITUDE: W 123d 55m 39.73s

ALTITUDE: 17.0m

 

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.

 

The Fagaima Road also turns into a river whenever there's a heavy rain.

 

A FLOOD OF VERSES...

 

IMMIGRATION

 

Nature has its own form of

immigration, where you

can't cross the border

unless your credentials

are in order. This can

cause delays, the heart's

own red tape.

 

Future generations are

contingent upon this

decision! Got the engine,

got the fuel, but there's

nothing like making the

journey only to learn

your passport needs

renewal. Damn you,

Immigration! Try again.

 

Nonetheless, your fair

country is the land of

opportunity to me, a

place my customs can

continue, contribute.

You're not convinced

yet, but I'm certain

you'll never regret

permitting me entry.

 

MONSTER PSYCHOLOGY

 

Frankenstein has the mind of a

killer, and as for fashion sense,

pure disorder – one look at him

and you know, here comes a

non-conformist. Frankenstein

has the heart of a farmer, all

hard work and no nonsense.

Frankenstein has conflicting

impulses. It would be less

complicated if he hated you,

then when you run he’d just

say la de dah, but oh woe to

anyone Frankenstein actually

likes and tries to follow after.

He moves slow but won’t stop,

obsessing on the answer he

thinks you hold – balance for

his sharply divided soul. Lo,

he comes! Stumbles into your

kitchen - inconsiderate, not

very articulate, inconvenient –

saying listen, I know you’re

not obligated to accommodate

me, but at least I’m good at

poetry so…uh… here’s a poem

I would really appreciate

exchanging for a cure.

 

VOLCANO

 

Volcano still for now, but still

a volcano. Surface has turned

hard, impenetrable, but below

something still churns, burning

inside. This restlessness will

someday shake your foundation

when the volcano can’t contain

its own hot ash any longer,

and shoots fire at the sky, as if

screaming, “I am here – how

could you leave me like this?

 

SONG

 

I wish I could speak like a song,

not confronting the problem

head-on, just by telling a story

that may have nothing to do

with reality as we know it.

Songs enter the reality of

feelings, intangible qualities

that bring sorrow or joy.

Guilt, blame, recrimination –

these wouldn’t be in my

words, but might be there in

the feeling the song conveys.

Or from a limitless choice of

feelings, it could be my

favorite – the sweet peace

when problems resolve and

all is well for everyone. While

that may not be true outside

the song, better somewhere

than nowhere.

 

WATER

 

Water won’t stop for you –

you can only dive in and

go with it if you desire.

Hold water and soon it’s

not itself anymore – the

pure needs to move to

bring life. Water will

drown you if you don’t

know how to flow with it.

Water can clean you,

heal – we’re baptized in

water, not fire. Water is

that part of us that comes

and goes, warm or cold,

just going with the flow,

just seeing to the needs

of its partner the earth.

 

SUPER-VILLAINS

 

I don’t play the villain very well –

no reason, no evil vision. I’d only

hurt by omission, not knowing.

But if I were a super-villain, a

challenger of Batman, nemesis

of Superman, I wouldn’t be

The Joker or The Penguin, I’d

be The Teacher, with a mystical

ability to bore to death my

enemies no matter what I say.

Or else I’d be The Preacher,

with a supernatural power to

render anyone who comes

in contact with me so utterly

guilty they fall on their knees

begging forgiveness. Or better

yet, The President, preying on

everyone’s loyalty to home and

family till they do whatever I

tell them unquestioningly.

 

Heroes quietly resist becoming

corrupted by their own power,

but others holding authority

without moral values find the

easy slide to the Dark Side

too tempting to avoid.

 

TOAST

 

My moods fly all over the place

like kamikaze insects, controls

set for my candle, in thrall to

their conviction its burning tip

will bring truth and purity, not

death or injury. They’re piling

up in the wax. Sacrifice in vain?

Perhaps not, if in the last flash

before turning to toast these

brave but misguided pilots

catch a glimpse of why we aim

for the sun. One with fire, life

itself blazing, even if it changes

them to toast, a trail of crumbs

other naïve seekers can follow.

My moods rise from their ashes

like new planets forming.

 

MR. RAIN

 

Too much –intense – more than

we can handle – rain brings life

but too much brings disruption.

Is there some point you’re trying

to make, Mr. Rain? Tired of us

dissing your bud the sun? Or just

concerned for the hydration of

this place? Gentle rains can be

sensual, but this intensity speaks

of angrier intent, like someone

doesn’t take you seriously so

you’re gonna show ‘em. As for

collateral damage, too bad, this

whole island can wash away

for all you care. Tell you what –

let me know who displeased

you and I’ll do the job just as

a favor, then you can turn off

this tap that’s flooding your

friends with your enemies. If

this entreaty leaves you angry

still, consider instead your

utility bill, Mr. Rain.

 

SYMBOLS

 

Given his natural accent, this

singer’s attempt to mimic the

vocal mannerisms of Stevie

Wonder resulted in the words

“ribbon In the sky” sounding

more like “lizard in the sky.”

Careful how you bend the

vowels and mangle the

consonants, especially if

you’re born in a village,

not some inner city. I had

visions of a giant lizard

soaring in the clouds,

signifying love immortal

with a regal wave of its little

front leg. How grateful I was

the gesture didn’t originate

from its little back leg, given

what that typically portends.

But anyway, this momentary

re-visioning of Stevie’s lyric

at least filled the day’s quota

for something completely

different. As far as symbols

go, who’s to say it’s any less

appropriate than chocolate?

 

PIECES

 

Of course people used to ride

dinosaurs - everybody knows

that. It was on that show, The

Flintstones. When they went

extinct because some aliens

with poor vision were shooting

at Uranus but hit us instead,

we switched from dinosaurs

to horses. Then when all the

horses became Muslims due

to global warming, we had to

invent the car. But you know,

Henry Ford was a secret

Muslim, just like Obama. He

knew we'd have to buy our

gas from Allah Oil. Now they

keep trying to bomb our solar

cars to save their economy,

but their religion won't let

them wear glasses so they

keep leaving bombs in the

wrong place or forget they're

wearing them till they go off.

All these little historical pieces

fit together just fine once you

suspend your common sense.

 

GOODBYES

 

Saying goodbye to someone who’s

dying, it’s like you’re trying to rush

them along or something. No, this

is supposed to be a tribute, a thank

you for the part you played in my

life. Good, bad or indifferent, all is

forgiven and some things we'll

always celebrate.. By all indication,

this visit with my Dad will be my last.

Some stupid part of me thinks that

if I don’t go, this will somehow alter

the inevitable. I know better, even

if my feelings don’t. Some people,

you just want to be there for them,

even knowing it won’t make much

difference. My showing my face

at this time of important transition

hopefully won’t hasten it. He’s had

some issues with me, and I with him,

but they all seem insignificant now.

And when I say goodbye, it will be

like all our other goodbyes, not

farewell forever, more like, ok,

gotta go, but catch you next time.

 

CONFLICT

 

Conflict inside someone else, I just

happened to give it a face without

trying - without trying - I don't let

myself into these things just for fun.

It's not fun, and you know your idea

far better than the person your idea

is about . I just happened to give it

a face, but behind that mask I never

asked to wear there's more going

on than you want to see because

I just happened to give a face to a

conflict inside yourself. No fun to

contemplate your own conflict - far

easier to just insist the source is

external and looks a lot like me.

And it just goes around in circles,

in a predictable cycle like the moon.

 

GUARANTEE

 

I would like a guarantee, signed

in blood, a sense of commitment

besides just mine. But guess what -

I'm on my own till harvest time

looks guaranteed, then they all

want to be concerned. How did

it get this way? Is it any different

for anyone else? If you gather

around you everyone with the

same assumptions, fall into line,

is some agreed-upon outcome

really guaranteed? Or is it all

just going through the motions,

hoping that our familiar songs

and dances will guarantee our

once and future prosperity,

same as the Aztecs once were

certain that the change of the

seasons was only guaranteed

by them feeding a hungry sun?

 

UNPRODUCTIVE

 

Bright sunny days and rainy,

cold nights - it's like I never

left home. I have unlimited

mileage and knowledge of

the Big Island highways, so

I'm re-visiting while I'm

visiting. I like not having

to worry about deadlines

or headlines or anything

but keeping an eye on the

oncoming cars. This isn't

the most productive use

of my time, but I've earned

the privilege of being

unproductive. It's calming,

I have time to reflect, no

one is relying on me for

anything as far as I know.

Holidays will pass and I'll

have to be productive

again, and remember you

have to keep going at all

costs just to earn the

temporary right to stop.

 

PORPOISES

 

My father remembers very clearly

how the Air Force transferred him

from Tokyo to Guam in the months

after World War Two. He recalls

how Japanese in the city streets

would collect cigarette butts and

carefully fashion a desperate puff,

then sleep in concrete pilings, or

sleep in doorways. I like it better

when he tells of how as a boy he

took ships from Hawaii home to

Samoa for school vacations. On

clear days, he'd crawl out on the

stern and see porpoises riding

on the waves the ship made, like

they were surfing. Yet for all my

patient explaining, he still can't

recall the Lee Auditorium, even

though he drove by it every day

since it was built. Some memories

live far longer than others. He

might leave soon, and when he

does, I hope in his thoughts he's

not with the Japanese, broken,

but with the porpoises, finding

bliss in something as simple as

just staying on a wave.

 

SELL

 

Can I sell you on an idea? No,

I won't even try, it's Christmas

time when giving is legitimate,

or rather, more legitimate than

the rest of the time, when

giving often looks like selling

in disguise. Everything here is

still free, anything valuable

perhaps disguised as worthless,

no obvious profit to be made

from trying to bottle what you

find or recycle what you feel.

It cannot be anything other

than what it is - a little gift, as

valuable or worthless as it

seems upon first impression,

or maybe much later when

the idea has had time to take

root and appears as something

very different when blooming

than it did when just trying to

hang on and not blow away in

the wind as a flake would.

 

DULL

 

You can't drink, smoke, inject

or snort something good. None

of these make things right or

make things gone, they only

make things dull. Ironic how

so many need to fully dull

themselves to how wrong

things really feel, yet refer

to it as feeling good.This is

not to say I won't get every

bit as dull as everyone else

if nothing else is happening,

or even enjoy it like any

other intentional stupidity.

all the while knowing that

to buy into the synthetic

happiness the dullness tries

to sell me in place of the real

thing would be a big mistake.

 

GIFTS

 

Some gifts don't come in pretty

paper, like the gift of freedom,

being free to come or go, free

to answer or to question, free

from the shackles of external

stimuli, free in the heart and

mind to roam or settle down,

free to see yourself as either

old or perpetually new, or both.

The real gifts may or may not

be under the tree, and some

are meant to be enjoyed and

soon forgotten while others

will require every second of

your attention or else they'll

turn around and bite. The gift

of freedom is like the gift of

a tiger on a short leash.

 

MARGINALIZED

 

Most of us are marginalized

in some way or other, but the

trick is to not identify with that

intangible status imposed from

who knows where by God only

knows who. Marginalized -

consigned to the margins, by

comparison with those who

supposedly have an advantage.

Advantage is like gasoline -

it doesn't mean anything

without the right vehicle. You

are the vehicle, marginalized

or otherwise, and remember

what happened with the

tortoise and the hare - those

who take their advantage for

granted become like Humpty

Dumpty, unprepared for the

going getting bumpy because

they've never had to survive

on life's margins.

 

CARPENTRY

 

If you want to get closer to the

truth, you can always sharpen

your carpentry skills. You'll

gain an appreciation of proper

structure, well put together,

balanced, true - the fruits of

your labor will either stand up

or collapse. How much closer

to the truth could you ask for?

 

Remember how a humble

carpenter of Nazareth once

applied his principles of

symmetry to his people's

most sacred oratory to

lovingly construct a way

of living and believing that

even today is still standing.

 

ALWAYS OPEN

 

I came to the Big Island

hoping for a sense of

closure. Well, I didn't

get it. What I got instead

is the realization that for

some people the heart

is like 7-11 or Jack In The

Box, always open,even

if you never stop by,

always there for you

just in case you need

something, even in the

dead of the stormy night.

 

FLAWED PERFECTION

 

GI Joe is a man with one part

missing, and Barbie is lacking

something in her anatomy too.

This is intentional - these are

dolls after all, incomplete by

design. Those missing parts

aren’t meant to be played with,

but if you do anyway, let it never

be said you got the idea from

the dolls. You can imagine GI

Joe as protector, and Barbie as

companion to someone worthy

(a protector, for instance), but

they lack the design for a union

of their energies, a blending of

their qualities to be anything

but theoretical. Perpetuating

life is not their business, thus

they become natural targets

for abuse when admiration is

no longer entertaining. Dolls

can take anything and never

seem to hurt, but once you

break them out of frustration,

they lose that perfection you

once found comfort in, even

if it was a flawed perfection.

 

GOSSIP

 

The gutter grabs the conversation

soon enough. It started out very

politely, just how you doing, then

devolved quickly into I know what

you’re doing and who you’re doing

it with. (No you don't.) All part of our

daily bread-baking I guess, this

morning’s morality review, what’s

hot, what’s going down in our little

Garden of Eden, some vicarious

stimulation on the back of someone

else’s reputation, but in the end

it’s just a trail of crumbs that still

hasn’t led anyone out of their

imaginary gingerbread forest

back to some big rock candy

mountain of wisdom. Why can’t

you just mind your own business?

 

PASSING THOUGHT #732

 

I don’t remember what we

even disagreed about. Do

you? It must just happen

spontaneously.

 

HEAVY FUEL

 

Emotional nuclear waste,

still active but of no known

practical use, potentially

explosive if not handled

properly. Sealed up tight

in the bottom of the sea

till it burns out or leaks

out. Created by us, then

quickly beyond control.

Safety requires its very

existence be denied. It's

a scandal anything this

powerful resists being

channeled positively.

 

SURFACE INDIFFERENCE

 

Long ago I chose to let it

weigh on me, thinking it

would make me strong at

carrying that kind of load.

Lo and behold, it feels no

less heavy now than it did

to begin with. Letting it

weigh on me just became

a habit taxing my peace of

mind. Attitudes that come

so easily convince us we

can program ourselves like

machines, as if mechanical

is more advantageous than

flexible. Think circulation.

It may be human to cling

to what’s precious, but to

hold on too hard is to risk

crushing what we should

instead seek to nurture.

 

WORLD GO ‘ROUND

 

Wherever we happen to be at,

we all make the world go ‘round

with our joys and sorrows, with

our triumphs and failures, with

our mistakes and when we’re

right and we know it. I will not

lie – I’m tired of problems, but

it’s been in facing problems

that I discovered so much that

I would otherwise never have

bothered to find out, so who’s

to say, really, what’s a blessing

or a curse. I stay on my path

with no idea of what’s going to

happen next. They say that God

watches over fools and drunks.

I know I’m not a drunk, but as

far as being a fool, well, it just

depends on who you ask.

 

HOME

 

You carry home around with

you, so in those moments it

feels like you’ll never return

there’s still a history where

you began if not where you

ended. Ah yes, history, how

things got this way. Choices

and results. No changing it,

except in how you relate.

Home made me who I am,

and as much as I may try to

shake it off like a maverick

trying to lose a saddle, at

my core will always be my

home, come what may.

 

MINEFIELD

 

Minefield of ego is a curse

from deepest hell, distortion

of good intentions, bent out

of shape by self-glorification.

Comparison is the weapon

often known to backfire,

then the minefield of ego

falls prey to its own traps,

blows itself apart. Woe the

aftermath – ego emerges,

bloody but unbroken, uglier

than ever. Ego rules over an

empty field of rubble. Can’t

really recall any reason for

the battle, but self-satisfied

simply to have won.

 

EXORCISM

 

This music chases away demons.

One listen and the buggers don’t

have a chance. They hear it and

they’re headed for the pavement.

Screaming, off they flee, wringing

their ears. Still the music lingers

in them, eating at their evil like

a cancer we can finally be happy

with. See them writhe, moan,

agonize, paralyze. Finally they’re

neutralized, free souls again. Big

Boss Demon fears this music, so

that’s why he’s always tried to

own it, slow it down, stow it, but

once it really gets going, even he

can’t control it. This music chases

away demons. I just wonder what

keeps bringing them back.

 

BIG CHICKENS

 

So many big chickens wandering

in and out of my poem. Giant

chickens, too fat to fly. Bashful

chickens, clucking fowl reflections

between the lines. Unfulfilled

chickens, withholding eggs as a

point of negotiation, threatening

to ruffle feathers unless treated

fairly, plotting to crow 24-7 so

dusk becomes confused with

dawn and whatever sleep we

can steal is filled with dreams

of secret ingredients and deep

fryers. Oppressed big chickens,

never fairly represented on the

collective menu, know full well

we’ll just laugh at them, but

when their civil disobedience

renders the nation’s breakfasts

one continual catastrophe, who

will have the last chuckle then?

 

SECURITY

 

Security – we’re all friends if not

family under the same security

blanket. Security bestows status,

sets us apart from the average.

Security comes at the cost of

silence when the most secure

dip fingers in the public till for

private reasons. Security divides

the spoils. As goes my security,

so goes the well-being of our

country. An equation even a

baby could follow. Well follow

this, all you political paunukus –

bending over for security and

expecting us to do the same -

security is an illusion, like fancy

clothes give an impression you

somehow look special when

stripped to your well-stretched

skin. Drums of corruption, sirens

of hypocrisy sometimes get so

loud that even the deaf and the

blind sense vampires nearby,

attracted by the scent of the

defenseless – an easy feed.

 

VACUUM HEART

 

Not to sound redundant, but Vacuum

Heart really sucks. Mechanism for

joy removal patrols the room. Goes

right for the dirt every time. Down

to earth suddenly means covered

in it. Why can't Vacuum Heart

partner with someone just as

obsessed with cleanliness? The

sight of me apparently makes

Vacuum Heart's hoses clog up,

motor overheat, plug exit the

well socket. Ok, I get it, I deserve

to be chased away with a broom.

Left to Vacuum Heart, antiseptic

splendor would prevail, all and

sundry spotless as a hospital,

no dirty corners of the mind left

unswept. For filth never sleeps,

it waits patiently for opportunity

to dominate. To sidestep that

soily fate we rely on Vacuum

Heart, superhero of spiritual

housecleaning.

 

DIG ME OUT

 

Aluminum cans will preserve

soda and beer till the caveman

renaissance. Enclosed unto itself,

protected from time like the

mummies, a soda or beer can

may not outlast eternity but will

easily outlive you and me. Life

is short compared to unopened

soda and beer. We have no time

for what doesn’t suit our taste

when more appealing options

compete for our attention on

the shelves of our existence.

Exaltation of convenience, just

use it, lose it, and on to the

next one. You take it in, into

your body’s confidence, more

a part of you than your dearest

friend, but only until the drill

of mutual usury completes its

exchange, then what remains

makes its less illustrious exit.

Possibly as a punishment for

awareness like this, I remain

unopened on the shelf, passed

over in favor of more current

designs. Do soda and beer

change their flavor over time?

Cavemen or future apes may

dig me out of the rubble one

day, mysterious remnant of a

strange long gone age. That’s

if someone doesn’t dig me out

of the bargain bin first.

 

WISHES

 

My wishes – so intense – it must

mean I’m not dead – that’s good

to know. I hold no one under any

obligation to grant me one single

wish or even the time of day, but

still I whisper my wishes to the sky,

the wind, the rain, passing cars,

dogs prolonging their species in

the street, just any old thing. But

never people, who’d use that

knowledge as leverage. No one

asks me my wishes – I appreciate

that discretion or that disinterest.

And so I wouldn’t splash across

the page the exact nature of my

wishes. This isn’t a bulletin board.

Cutting through a jungle of ideas,

the vines of abstraction, I wish I

could find expression for a wish

you were wishing too.

 

DISCLAIMER II (III?)

 

My poetry is probably not

the best way to get to know

me, if you want my opinion.

I have a pretty good filter,

but this Is what emerges

when it’s switched to off

mode. I take an energy

that might make some

turn to a bottle, a needle

or a gun, and I try to do

something different with it.

Don’t ask me how this

energy came to be – too

long a story. Poetry is what

I do with feelings to keep

from being eaten by them.

Enter at your own risk. If

you see something you

recognize clearly, then all

this blood on the pages

hasn’t been in vain.

 

LEGEND

 

Have I the heart to tell the

story yet again? This disaster

repeats itself predictably, like

the city clock. Likewise, if I

repeat the tale enough, it

passes into legend, a lesson

for anyone who’ll go down

the same path. I’ll change

the names in case it makes

you feel you’re under attack.

Once upon a time someone’s

faith was badly misplaced.

From there, tell the legend

yourself, your personal take

on faith and faithlessness.

Legends can be reinvented –

it’s fairer that way. Have I

the heart to render a story

so personal in anonymity’s

cloaked terms? Just another

old tale no one takes very

seriously till suddenly it’s

about them.

 

DON QUIXOTE

 

The Windmill Man, the walking

metaphor, aiming his lance at

the windmills and still missing –

God forbid he should connect,

that would be a catastrophe.

Windmill standing in for whole

other glory. Defined – assigned

to a corner of your mind – a

place in the natural order. I’d

go for the opposite. Already

starting to rebel, test the limits,

formulate an escape. Catch me.

Let me go. Be my windmill and

you needn’t worry I’ll never

return. Keep me dreaming the

impossible dream – simply

remain impossible.

 

BIG SHIP

 

I wanna be a barnacle – attach

myself to a Big Ship and travel

economy. See the world and

not even join the Navy. Calm

or rough seas, it doesn’t matter –

you just keep me hanging on.

But please, Big Ship, don’t sail

the Hudson River, it’s polluted

and barnacles don’t have the

benefit of protection. We might

catch an infection from those

sick New York waters, turn

unhappy campers on your

hull, disgruntled eco-tourists

poisoned en masse. A 9-11 for

crustaceans and our Big Ship

could care less, just scrape us

all off casually as shaving. Ok,

so maybe I don’t wanna be a

barnacle after all. Big Ship,

floating diva - Titanic-sized

ego, why not try a blind date

with an iceberg.

 

MIRRORS

 

If you want me to greet you as a

friend, you have to greet me as

a friend. We’re mirrors – we see

ourselves in each other – the open

warmth or closed defensiveness,

the easy exchange or difficult

minimum civility, unquestioning

embrace or involuntary revulsion.

So many ways it can go. We have

no indicator of which way is up

except each other. Like any

mirror, the image reflected may

not always be a true picture, but

don’t we all look a bit different

depending on which side of

ourselves someone chooses

to focus on or to overlook.

 

GAIN

 

Careful in that period of gain,

It makes me grateful, but also

uncomfortable, apprehensive

that the scale will swing back

the other way with a period

of loss. That’s the nature of

the scale. But for now, enjoy

a period of gain, when you

feel like it isn’t just pointless

toil after all, when you feel

like your luck has returned

from a long journey, when

you can dare to believe you

actually deserve it. So this is

how it feels – I’d forgotten.

Like the first fine clothes that

really fit. I could get used to

this. There I go again – I know

better than to get used to this.

 

AVOIDANCE

 

Were I allowed to levy a two cent

tax on every hint my critics lob

at me like grenades to a foxhole

that my love of travel betrays an

elaborate avoidance of settling

down, I could retire and travel

for life. Since I’m so well-versed

at avoidance, I avoid the subject,

avoid my critics, and carry on

traveling. Avoidance is their

term, not mine. I prefer terms

like adventure, discovery, and

revelation. The world is not yet

done revealing itself to me –

nor to them – they’ve settled

down prematurely. Besides, if

settling down is all it’s cracked

up to be, and I’m truly Mr. Bad

Example, why are they even

watching me? I’m supposed

to be miserable and they’re

supposed to be happy.

 

BULLDOZER

 

Bulldozer, like a sumo wrestler

you push, push, push me out

of the circle, out of the picture,

out of history. Make certain

I stay on the margins of the

existence you’re comfortable

with. Bulldozer, like a giant

pecking chicken you dig, dig,

dig away at the foundation

of any relation between us.

Anything once assumed is

now assumed meaningless.

Bulldozer, you’ve flattened

any reason to feel. Efficiency

empty of humanity is nothing

but machinery. Bulldozer, like

Jack the Ripper you prefer to

see yourself as simply clearing

a path of the detritus blocking

progress. If it’s in your tracks,

it’s asking for it.

 

PIE

 

Shame on you ungrateful relations,

all scrambling for your slice of the

pie. The estate tastes the same no

matter who serves it – at least for

the moment. This is a perfectly

reasonable pie – it’s you disputing

your portions. Hey, I warmed the

oven. Hey, I cleaned the kitchen.

Hey, I took out the garbage. Hey,

I went to the market. Hey, I wiped

the plates. Hey, I just ate off the

plates, but I gave him the recipe

and he baked it for me. You’ve

all got such a compelling story.

It takes a committee to raise a

pastry. Can one little pie cause

such controversy? May its fruit

be less bitter than the dispute.

No Thanksgiving pumpkin nor

sweet apple tarted was left out

to cool by our dearly departed.

 

ARK

 

The endless rains have rent our

Flag Day asunder. I say it’s God’s

commentary on the Fono pay

raise. Think you’ve got money

to waste? Maybe I’ll just ruin

you Flag Day entertainment

Sense of entitlement brought

the tsunami – how soon you

forget. Everyone build their

own fautasi – you’ll all need a

modern day ark to sail the few

remaining clean hearts away

from this South Seas Sodom

to somewhere kinder where

there is no Fono, no matai,

no faalavelave, no bingo -

your most enduring values

can start again from scratch.

 

IRRIGATION

 

Sun took a vacation and we

won’t be complaining about

the heat for awhile. Enough

water now to wash all our

cars. Scenery greener than

green, plants drunk on

moisture – careful you don’t

overdo a good thing. Does

anyone or anything still

need irrigation? Nature

is upping her thoroughness,

getting to the cases that

complain they’re left out.

No one goes thirsty on my

watch – you’re all my babies

and I’ll make sure you’re

healthy. Everyone needs a

friend like her, but how do

you say politely, Mother

Nature, enough is enough?

 

CORE

 

Childhood seemed so much less

complicated – lines so clearly

drawn, and besides, who expects

kids to be responsible anyway?

Questions answered simply.

Now, as time goes on, it’s more

a matter of answers I don’t have.

Mysteries overtake conventional

wisdom. We’re forced to relate

outside our frame of reference –

it can get overwhelming. But as

complex as it seems, existence

at its core is absurdly simple.

We’re all just here for awhile -

seeing, feeling, reflecting, and

evolving if we let ourselves.

Facing the mysteries the way

people always have, sometimes

coming in on a wing and a prayer.

Always returning to a core, while

at the same time trying to get the

most out of what’s beyond it.

 

FAIRFAX

 

Fairfax, one less paramedic tramp

threatens to compromise your

firefighters. Fight fire with fire –

crucify her online. It’s called slut

shaming – It takes on a life of its

own so no wonder now it’s taken

a life. She may or may not have

the dirty hands they imagine, so

you have to wonder why they’d

even bother paying attention.

Pornographic minds will conjure

X-rated situations, and jealousy

ferments venom in the envious.

We call fundamentalist Muslims

barbaric for stoning to death

adulterous women, but In the

USA we stone those we don’t

like with words. Why use sticks

and stones when words alone

can put a paramedic slut in her

place? If that place just happens

to be a grave, don’t blame us.

Moral superiority needs cruelty,

even barbarity, or else it’s only

theoretical, only as powerful

as a schoolyard bully secretly

scared of his own vulnerability.

 

(Note: The above was triggered by a story that made the

national news, but not in a very big way. If you're curious,

search on the words "fairfax slut shaming," and that should get you to the story.)

 

1) Friends call me Woot, B, or B.W.

 

but I call myself Susan when random strangers ask my name. Not because I like the name or anything, but that's how I roll when I lie to strangers.

 

2) It's 2:34 where I am now & I'm so tempted to chew gum. mainly because I've never done it at this time.

 

3) I've got 2 whole months left in NYC, because I gotta move for med school...which means I have to do my best to get all the subway shots that I wanted to take for the past years. Maybe go back to the bench photos?

 

4) Gotta flea market hop for cheap cameras. Can't wait for that this summer with friends.

 

5) The only thing in life that I attract are blood-sucking bugs and old women. It's a shame I'm not attracted to either of them. :/

 

6) I always found (& still find) Alice in Wonderland and Toy Story depressing.

 

7) I used to be a fan of killer whales...now I just think they're okay.

 

8) If you're reading this, I'm impressed that you've got the strength to be not completely bored and annoyed by everything above ^ (maybe?) you clearly deserve an award nonetheless.

 

9) Number 8 reminds me...I owe someone here a series & I've got ideas for that series! I'm low on ideas in general though, so if you're still reading this and you've got photo suggestions for me, let me know!

 

10) OMG I'm so hungry right now...but I'm too lazy to look for food at 2:43 AM.

 

(by the way, last year they specifically said in one of ther pubs "please take lots of pics"..now he just said for first time, "please no cams" (inside theatre) ...(surprise appearance by actor erik estrada in "Inspector Sanchez"4/2/11 NOTES FROM FINAL SESSION 2, 168 FILM FEST, ALEX THEATRE, GLENDALE, CA 120-3pm; .good 2nd session of films...here's some of the verbatim.. [this is unedited, incuding typos..last year I posted little clips of each vid, trying to promote the faith, & advance the kingdom..but I'm noticing more "copyright" claims at the end of these films...(I never understand "Christians" who claim copyrights on "Christian" material)...so I might not be posting vid clips..even tho I want to promote the faith..some of these "industry" people can be seriously uptight about this stuff (I remember a few messages from last year)...(which is a shame b/c the true Christians who want their stuff promoted for Kingdom purposes, may get left out..its too much of a danger for me..on YouTube..getting one more strike could lead to my entire 15,000 plus video website being shutdown) (the entire verbatim won't fit here so for all of it go to hwblog.posterous.com/4211-notes-from-2nd-session-final-da.... ;Here's my notes & some verbatim from the 2nd session: "Rapper..quick reminder..doesn't matter..u and your career..nobody buy a gospel ..contract..ur not coming back..stupid..id kill for your life..wrong house..dj trizz..xompilation..handed kets..blamin god..scr..y hgo yhis route..didn't want just what I wanted..now how I feel..let me spin a verse..this ain't just entertainment..this is ministry..gotta know god..take some time..looks like eminem..credit card declined..sleeping on couce.demise of o child..nack at nightclub..women..ochild..slot in beat feast ..be huge..o-child new rap..won't go back..like nothin I've ever done..freedom..

------------------

Digging w. Shovel..eery...pushups..lady..mommy..fish..cutting..sending messages..potato..eating raw..can't go back..fixing electronics....its not ok..news clips..pop control, apocalypse..pond..canteen..water from creek..snipers ..visual..dna confirmation..take her alive..chase...shot..inject self..kills self..been discovered..10 mins to repair machine ..may be last transmission..bible by transmittor....dr...know uve been receiving ..read your last article...final message his voice "if my people.." ..so scared..mot here to hurt u...

----------------

Paul ulring ...Eric waters..mill run sanctuary..sirvey of chr thought..average life cycle of ch is 50 years..brodie taphorn ..invited to youthgroup..ulring..godly grandmother ..atheist lawyer who chhallaenghed me..rob paul keith aaron....bufff delcamp..resident advisor...r.a. ..clipboard..nominal churchgoer..to be a better disciple..bill ..cool guy.woke..john stoltzenbach..was elem hi school teacher...brother at this church..came to shut him up..fund mssing piece..jesus..four years..fr heathen to seminary..explain the main thng..go make discples..mmain thing be & maje discple..wake them up..reach people..bring them to jc...no empty chairs..disciples disciples..rabbi..go do it ..sends 72 ..I'm a wounded healer..could have brken me....not so much learn in classroom..they atch master..info..skills..testimony story..brief answer ..who discpled u..all ought to say god loves u wondrfl plan..but fallen world...plenty heroes..executed..only one risen..lunch pin is ressurection..

------------------

Inspector sanchez,..take him out back..throw him it ..bike..2nd gen health inspctr..try hand at acting..pretending to cry..sppsd to be big day..like estrada..wanted to see me ..u tried..they're gangstas..sopranos..lucianos today..have to leave early today..don't let me down..I love u maria..must not wait..mouzs..scream ...jalapeno juice....stuck in car..skrry thought I coykd be an inspector..spec appearance by erik estrada..shut lucianos down..sergio marcos, alejando edda plays julio

------------------------

Mike shields, Robert adan , elly kaye, She's in warehouse..red eyes..batman figure..its me joni....fatal flaw..bubble..fool for love...stop u cold..roll..on a roll ..blue blue blue..took my arm...enouh sleigh of hand..fiery freeak..love grown cold..now a mere mortal..blaze pad ...woeking fine ..blue blazes ..it s finished..does he seem finished to u..blue blazes trouble..tblue blazes..is he ok..let the suit fit..I got into a scrap..not me..why say my full name...beautiful like I..out of anytime minutes..people defenseless..iu can do this meet your new boss..dontgo blue..

--------------

 

Guide me home,,,singing...where is the pain..wha happened to feeling..rain ..ceiling.. ..sunging..to forget ..will u guide me home....clouds..sun..beach..dir clay banks, ..susan silvestri, kendal brenneman..

------------------

Mark blitch..basex on verse re grace..so many directions..being abt 2 thieves..adam kitchen..character gets caught..convey sb who no way desrves grace..intrstng things..adam flew in from l.a. ..called me a few before set up..flight cancelled..I'm a time guy..worship leader..prayed..remember this guy I do..his face...wanted to glorify god..went into prod...same heart mind..he sought me out..plano..breaking bafs..fr night lights..do I want to work w him of course..adam kitchen..he flies infr l.a...best friend...amazing actors....challenge..moods..last year specific..this year..trusted me..joy to work w..trust u ..biggest blessing ..jenny lee, sam porch.. ..here to learn..so short handed..got her on the boom ..her brother on mcycle..god loking out for us ..heart for christm the arts.makes it easierr..doing it love it ..c..

-------------

Raj rapper..hip hop..u must go to college..subway...father I have sinned..no longer worthy..father said...not sure of point rajesh nahar .md rapper

---------

Anthony milligan is j.c., brandon chanfdler, producerxPotters hand..man..sun thru slats..mexican..outhouse..joles in jeans..sanda..city empty..dirt road..church, fine day..I'm JC, ..JACOB...lost your way..sparrow..male..empty village..jc broken teeth..come here sweetheart..let shw u good time..jc get..out of here before I beat..shut up tramp..u kiss your wife w/ that mouth..sb my papa too..potters hands...jc..empty vollage ...come n sit down..make me ask u again..said u quit drinkij ...where been..ain't same..remember..he doesn't talk..jc runs..he follows..plays banjo..into church..he enters..amazing grace..that's big jc..breaks his banjo..he cries..he meets himself as a child ..old ..wakes up..all a dream..

------------------

..this is jennifer...arguing in conference..take my 3 hole puncher..that's asault..darcy..why work there anymore..jenn..jenn..thought that was chris..keep dong that...cop & 2 eorkers..u absconded..cool it..back in office..he was nice..acronyms..he tried..boiling point..why so much fight..long before u..chips plane stuck in tree..rockhits car..who wants to die ..jenn looking at pics...been thinking abt u..heard chris is coming back..38 visits to his facebook page..ur a freak ..I'm well aware of that..u broke office policy..its u I like..play cards right .u will still have a job..[guy commenting in theatre]..two back together..oh that's funny..bye jennifer..have good night..can't buy us out chris..why apay tht. I bought him out to..I wrote the bylaws..jenn in bathroom..he said its over..I'm so sorry..he discon is phone..nobody likes me..company sold to former..chris..everybody gets 7percent raise..sit wyw..paid 10 times book value..its jennifer..margat shoop

The KOM League

Flash Report

For

Week July 23, 2017

 

This report is on Flickr at this site: www.flickr.com/photos/60428361@N07/35876146902/ There are two more photos of the guy in this photo in the report to which you can link.

 

More regarding Clifford Fowler

 

Last week the obituary for Clifford Fowler, of the 1946 Pittsburg Browns, was shared. Also, the team photo in which he appeared was the “Photo of the Week” on the Flickr site that also carried the Flash Report.

 

This past week I got to know the late Mr. Fowler a lot better. I delved into his life history, on Ancestry, and located some photos of him from the time he was around two years old until the latter years of his life. He served his country and was storming the beaches of Normandy during the invasion of Europe. Since I never located Fowler, in my attempt to track down every former KOM leaguer prior to their passing, I’m attaching two photos which can be viewed at the following sites: Take the time to look at them.

Fowler as catcher: www.flickr.com/photos/60428361@N07/36047175075/

Fowler with brother: www.flickr.com/photos/60428361@N07/35913032281/

 

You might wish to compare these photos with the one in last week’s report to see how he did or didn’t change, in appearance. www.flickr.com/photos/60428361@N07/35514299040/

 

Many former KOM leaguers weren’t in a team photo and there wasn’t any way I could ever locate others. Therefore, I have long wondered what some of the guys looked like. There is a way to find photos of some of the former players if you get shut inside due to the weather or health reasons. One way to find former players is to get into genealogy files where the person maintaining a family site includes photos. From there the method of capturing them isn’t too tough to discern. If you have a digital camera the battle is won.

________________________________________________________________________

Death of 1949 Pittsburg Brown

 

Obituary

 

Eugene W. "Gene" Puetz, 86, of Hoffman Estates (Ill.), formerly of Huntley passed away on Monday evening, June 13, 2016 at Brookdale in Hoffman Estates.

 

Arrangements are pending with the James A. O'Connor Funeral Home in Huntley

Published in the Northwest Herald on June 15, 2016.

Eugene was born on March 23, 1930 (in Chicago) and passed away on Monday, June 13, 2016.

 

Eugene was a resident of Huntley, Illinois at the time of passing. Eugene was formerly from Chicago, Illinois. Eugene was married to Ruth.

 

Funeral Service will be held on Monday June 20 2016 at 12 Noon at Trinity Lutheran Church 11008 N Church St Huntley with Rev. Robert Hoffman officiating. A Private Burial will be at Mt. Emblem Cemetery in Elmhurst. Visitation will be prior to services from 10 to 12 pm. at the church.

 

Memorials in his name may be directed to St. Jude Children's Hospital at http:www.stjudes.org.

 

Ed comment:

 

The deceased was one of the 48 roster members of the 1949 Pittsburg, Kansas Browns where he played third base.

 

Puetz’s son, Garry, played on the 1983 Super Bowl champion Washington Redskin team. www.google.com/search?q=garry+puetz+football+coach&oq... Eugene was very proud of his son and in the early days of writing about the KOM league he shared a lot of stories with me about him. Due to the lack of communication I didn’t learn of his passing until 13 months after the fact.

 

Puetz was one of many guys who weren’t connected to the Internet and after I quit sending out the printed newsletter our communication came to an end.

____________________________________________________________________

Gordyn Samuel “Buddy” Kirschner, 86, of Santa Fe, Texas, passed away Monday, May 15, 2017.

Obituary

www.crowderfuneralhome.com/obituaries/gordyn-samuel-buddy...

 

Buddy was born October 8, 1930, in Galveston, Texas. He graduated from Ball High School, Galveston, Texas in 1949, and pitched for two farm clubs associated with the Chicago Cubs, the Sioux Falls Canaries and the Carthage Cubs, before becoming a pipe fitter at Monsanto. He married his high school sweetheart, Pat Kirschner, in 1974, and remained devoted to her until her death in 2006.

 

In addition to working as a pipefitter, Buddy also enjoyed playing golf and officiating high school football games. He officiated many Ball High School games during the years he spent as an active participant of a well respected officiate team.

 

In his retirement, he became an expert at growing roses. People often stopped in front of his house to take pictures of his spectacular flowers and ask him for tips on how to produce such beautiful rose gardens.

 

He was also a devoted father and grandfather. He frequently opened his home to his various friends, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren as host to various birthday parties and fishing expeditions. His open-hearted hospitality and well-stocked pond provided many people with hours of entertainment.

He is preceded in death by his wife, Patricia G. Kirschner, son Gordyn Samuel “Bubba” Kirschner Jr., and James L. Gibbins, son-in-law.

 

Survivors include daughters Trish Gibbins and Valerie Simmons; sons Gary Wayne Kirschner and wife Sandy; Mike Martin and wife Gage; grandchildren: Stephanie Klein and family, Courtney Best, Gordyn Wayne Kirschner and family, Jennifer Kirschner, Zettie Kirschner, Zachary Kirschner, Blair Martin, Walton-Gray Martin, Daniel James Martin, Laura Simmons; great-grandchildren: Matthew Klein, Andrew Klein, Lindsey Cole, Macey Evans, Taylor McLin, Madison Mills, Brittany Kirschner, and Sebastian Kirschner; and great-great grandchild Hayes James Cole.

 

To all who knew him, Buddy represented a generosity of heart and spirit to which we all aspire and for which we are all forever grateful.

 

A Memorial Service will be held at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, May 19, 2017, at Crowder Funeral Home in Dickinson, Texas.

 

Ed comment:

 

In the December 4, 2016 of the Flash Report the finding of Robert Anson Grove was cited. He had been a member of the 1949 Ponca City Dodgers and he mentioned some of the fellows with whom he played baseball with, in 1948, at Galveston’s Ball High School. One of those named was Gordyn Kirschner. These are a few paragraphs from that report. Grove said that after the 1949 season he went back home and played some amateur baseball in his adopted hometown for a number of years. I had remembered, from earlier in the conversation of him mentioning playing on a “hot” Ball High School team in 1948. For the sake of conversation I asked if he remembered all of the fellows. The first he mentioned was Russell Rac. www.guidrynews.com/story.aspx?id=1000038254 That name jumped out at me for it seemed like he played big league ball for the Cardinals since I heard his name on Cardinal spring training broadcasts during a number of my formative years.

 

However, as the attached URL states Rac didn’t make it—but he should have. Here is another URL for Rac. bill37mccurdy.com/2011/11/15/ex-buff-russell-rac-dead-at-81/

 

Going on with his memories Grove recalled one of the pitchers he caught during his high school years was Gordyn Kirschner. If any of you don’t know who Kirschner is/was, you didn’t read or don’t recall last week’s Flash Report. He was the young man who is listed among the 36-man roster of the 1949 Carthage Cubs. At this juncture in the conversation I had now identified Grove, Rac and Kirschner as members of that 1948 high school team. At that point it was time to do some independent research and very quickly I found the name of James Harvey “Chick” Plowman who also played at Ball High School at that time. He signed with the St. Louis Browns and caught at Pittsburg, Kansas during the 1950 season. There is no way to check anything with Plowman for he died on February, 25, 2009 in Hitchcock, Texas. As with most conversations with former players their children are mentioned. Grove said that he and his daughter were very gifted at tennis and won many doubles tournaments. He said that lasted until someone came along and told her that she had a great voice. That she did. Never have I been able to share anything on the subject of opera but Grove’s daughter Jill, is one of the top performers in her craft.

jillgrovemezzo.com/reviews.html

________________________________________________________________________

Edwin Elwin Blow

 

May 25, 1950—Iola Register

Earl Sifers, president also announced newly added to the Indian roster is Edwin Blow, a 20 -year-old, 6-foot4-inch righthanded pitcher from Manchester, Conn. He was recommended by an Indian contact in the East

 

Blow pitched against Carthage May 28, 1950. First inning struck out one, gave up three bases on balls, hit Duane Zimmer with a pitch and gave up two hits and five runs. He faced two batters in the second inning before being taken from the game. That is the only appearance I found on him. On May 31, the roster was cut and he wasn’t even on with the team, at that point. I did locate him back in 2012 living in The Villages, Florida and learned he was born November 17, 1929 in Barre, Vermont. He beat me into this world by 10 years and 10 days. Gotta’ keep up with the guys that close to my age.

______________________________________________________________________

Son remembers his dad

 

John, on the anniversary of my father’s 94th birthday, I got to thinking. Here’s what came out. Do with it as you feel fit. Bruce May—Parma, Ohio

 

I grew up in the Cleveland suburb of Parma back in the 50’s and 60’s. It was a two bedroom bungalow that looked pretty much like every other house bought on a GI Loan. A quarter acre lot consisting of house, driveway, three feet of grass, repeat, repeat, repeat. Every house on the street looked like every other house on the street, indeed every other house in town.

 

But it was the strip of driveway and grass that advanced my baseball career. I would get a rubber ball and bounce it off the side of our house. Line drives hit the house a little lower, high pops hit near the top of the second floor. For hours I would play catch with the house.

 

Soon enough I imagined great victories for the Cleveland Indians as Al Kaline’s drives just made it to the warning track, while Leon “Daddy Wags” Wagner hit home run after home run. The problem arose from the neighbor’s house intercepting the ball before I did. Especially their two basement windows facing our house.

 

So of course, during one particularly difficult World Series 7th game, I missed the catch and broke the neighbor’s window. They, Russian immigrants, were way more benevolent than I would have imagined. Perhaps having stared down German machine gun fire puts a certain perspective on a broken window.

 

My father was less conciliatory when he arrived home from work, but in a less strident mood when he realized dinner could be had before setting out to fix the window. After dinner we walked to the local hardware store and bought a pane of glass. Thus began my first lesson in repairing a broken window.

 

Next season though, another broken window, another walk to the store, and one more lesson in window repair. After yet one more broken window, my father got wily and bought six panes of glass that he kept stored in the garage. The next broken window, a grand slam by Woody Held, I went and fixed the window myself. I’m not sure the neighbors even knew it had been broken. I know my father didn’t.

But over the years cars and girls, not necessarily in that order, started to slice into my driveway ball playing and I never broke another window again. Years later when my parents were getting ready to move into a senior apartment, I was helping clean out the garage, and there were four perfectly shaped pieces of glass just waiting for another ball to break the neighbor’s window. The Russian couple long gone and my old house soon to have new occupants, I wasn’t sure what to do with the panes. I took them to the new neighbors and hoped they would be as understanding with any new little boys moving in next door to them. I had long ago learned one lesson on repairing windows, but I had also learned a lesson about little boys and what’s really important. Bruce May, son of Wilbert May, 1946 KOM Veteran.:

Ed comment:

 

Wilbert Roy May was born May 11, 1922 in Cleveland, Ohio and joined the Carthage Cardinals at the close of WW II, for the 1946 season He was a good left handed pitcher who posted a 4-2 record before a sore arm ended his career. He passed away November 4, 2001 in Medina, Ohio. A few years ago his son, Bruce, was located and has been reading and sharing these Flash Reports with members of his family, scattered hither and yon. He claims they enjoy reading them.

Thanks go out to Bruce who has gotten into the spirit of helping this time-worn internet report by submitting a great memory about his youth.

**

Actually, I really liked the rundown of the 1946 Pittsburgh Browns. It was informative and entertaining to me. Jerry Hogan. Fayetteville, AR

 

Ed reply:

 

You liked it because of Jerry Baker. Baker had a brother at U of A at that time. The family moved from Cassville, MO to Fayetteville when the boys went to college. I didn’t mention it in last week’s report but Baker also attended college, for a short time, at Pittsburg, Kansas. That school had more former KOM league members attend it than any other institution of higher learning.

**

From the widow of the late Conrad Swensson

 

As I have likely told you before, those baseball memories stayed with Connie longer than almost everything else. Only a couple of months before he died, he was demonstrating to me how to hold the ball to throw a curve. Although he always recognized me and even called my name on his way into that hip replacement surgery, he should have known that I would not be a good pitching student. If you have trouble locating the article—and if you are interested in reading it—let me know so I can send you a copy. Jackie E. Swensson

 

Ed comment:

 

Conrad Swensson was one of the top pitchers in KOM history and set the record for the lowest earned run average, in 1949. Jackie had gotten in touch due to a story appearing in the Denver Post on July 16th. She volunteered to send the article if I couldn’t access it through the Internet. Thanks to the miracle of that media I was able to get hold of it. However, I appreciate being alerted to such things by the readership. If you want to view some of the images from that newspaper go to: www.denverpost.com/2017/07/14/trinidad-triggers-baseball-...

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Help from a real writer

 

One of the best newspapers of the KOM era was the Iola Register. I still check that source in the old newspaper files that are contained on-line. Shortly, after the KOM league folded Bob Johnson left Pittsburg State University and headed north to begin his career in the newspaper business. Today, he is the Editor of the Iola Register and takes time out of his busy week to read the KOM Flash Reports.

 

It is my belief he has a sense of pity on those who have to endure the KOM reports and decided to help the old batboy come up with a better product. When it was stated in last week’s report that the story on the 1946 Pittsburg Browns was probably overkill he responded with “No overkill in my opinion. I enjoy all of what you write, but then I'm from that era and find myself often living there more than I do in the present.” So, here is his contribution to this week’s report.

 

My view: ‘For love of the game’—Bob Johnson-Iola Register

When I first became interested in baseball, along about the time the Philadelphia Athletics became the Kansas City A’s in 1955, if you were a serious fan you didn’t need a scorecard to know who played for whom.

 

Every kid who followed baseball could rattle for the lineups of most American League teams — man NL, too — and knew KC bench players and pitchers as well as they knew their own name.

 

Stalwarts of the game — Mantle, Williams, Aaron, Mays, et al — were untouchable in the trade market, and seldom did many other players change teams. They were bound, right or wrong, in a sort of involuntary servitude. The teams owned them, body and soul.

 

That changed in 1969 when the Cardinals’ Curt Flood challenged the reserve clause, which prevented players from switching teams at their behest. His claim, which won court support, was the reserve clause violated antitrust laws and the 13th Amendment, which did away with slavery.

 

That opened the gate to free agency and, with certain concessions to teams for having signed and developed players, soon had many moving to the highest bidder.

No one with a wit of fairness in their system would question an employee’s right to accept the highest bid for their services.

 

The second thing that has occurred over the years that wasn’t true when I spent night after night glued to a tiny transistor radio listening to the Athletics lose yet another game is the influx of Latin players.

 

That has been good for the game. No one would disagree Salvy Perez is at the top of the class in K.C. Not only is he a fan favorite, he also is talented almost beyond belief.

But, here’s the problem in modern-day baseball. No longer do I know from one season to season, often one month to next, who the Royals or another team will field for a given game. It drives me nuts trying to keep track who is playing where. This sure isn’t meant to be a racist comment, but Latin names also sometimes leave me bewildered. Perez and Martinez is easy, but how in the world do you pronounce Rougned Odor, of Ranger fame.

 

I suspect most fans don’t get as deep into the game as I do, and with the financial aspects, as well as drug-enhanced performances that hit the news a few years ago, I find it harder just to enjoy the great American game. Same is true, by the way, of Jayhawk basketball. I just get to know (by way of TV coverage) the players, when they jump ship for the NBA. I suppose, as James Carville would say, it’s about the money, stupid. For a kid of the ’50s that’s too bad.

 

Ed comment:

 

Readers can go to this site on Saturday morning July 22 and read this same article on-line. www.iolaregister.com/

After reading it you can send an e-mail to Mr. Johnson. Do it and let him know the breadth or lack of circulation of this Flash Report.

___________________________________________________________________

Universal issue

 

Long ago I learned not to accept obituaries as the “last word” regarding the life of the deceased. Many times I’ve read the chronicles of the life of a recently departed only to find some items were fiction and not much of a resemblance to any fact.

This past week my attention was directed toward an obituary of a person with whom I was acquainted as a youth. Another friend, still vertical, pointed out that the fellow had claimed to have played in a rather popular country/western band during his life. The instrument on which he allegedly played, for the famous band, was also the same one my vertical friend played all throughout his youth, and very well, I might add.

 

Some research was done to validate the claims of the dearly departed and there was no way in a million years did he play for that famous band that backed the late Buck Owens-- The Buckaroos. www.google.com/webhp?authuser=1#safe=active&authuser=...

 

In fact, the instrument that the deceased claimed to have played with the Buckaroos was played by a guy who used to attend KOM baseball games, at Carthage, with his father and three brothers. The musical family, to whom I refer is/was Albert E. Brumley and his sons; Bob, Al Jr. and Tom. www.google.com/webhp?authuser=1#safe=active&authuser=... Al and Bob are the survivors of that extremely talented family and they both have had access to the KOM publications/news for many years. Al Jr. even played some of his father’s songs at a KOM reunion in Bartlesville, OK, in 2002, and also did some pickin’ and singin’ at the event where Your’s truly was honored, in 1999, with a plaque on the entrance to the Carthage stadium.

 

Do people make claims to great feats of the past out of wishing they were so or do they tell the story so many times they tend to think it is true? It is also possible that when people get to be a certain age they assume they can say anything and get by with it for no one else is around to dispute what they have to say. Maybe that is the position this editor is in at his advanced stage of inhaling/exhaling. That is why each reader should look closely at each report and let me know when I mess up. Can anyone say “Gilbert Flauto?”

_______________________________________________________________________

That’s it for now. Let me know what you know so that more people will know what you know.

 

The two-part episode The Incident presents two stories in parallel: a science-fiction adventure involving time-travel, electro-magnetism, and a mad scientist hoping to change things with a hydrogen bomb; and a fantasy myth involving mortals enslaved by ancient demigods, trying to change things with a knife and sacrificial fire. (In keeping with the disclaimer introduced earlier, it must be noted that ‘science’ and ‘fantasy’ are terms loosely applied, and that perhaps even the Jacob story might craft a more plausible scientific explanation than the Incident itself.) This work of fiction exists somewhere at the intersection of drama, sci-fi, and fantasy, but wholly within the category of Mythology. The episode’s first images evoke the dawn of human culture, the harnessed power of fire, shelters made of rock, hand-spun clothing and sandals, and primitive tools to gather fish from the ocean. After mankind adapted the necessary technology to survive, his mind began to expand to other pursuits, darkening his bare walls to produce painted images, carving majestic statues into rock, weaving decorative tapestries dyed different colors, telling stories through language, and even building ships to explore the seas (and planes to conquer the skies). Although Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey still holds the record for the longest flash-forward in cinema history, the centuries-long transition after the opening scene achieves a similar narrative effect. Even though man has evolved from taming the Promethean fire to building Edison’s light bulb to unleashing the power of the atom, our civilization is still in its infancy. Human beings themselves have not matured at the same rate as our technological progress. “They come. They fight. They destroy. They corrupt. It always ends the same.” The same petty jealousies that motivated the biblical rivalry of Jacob and Esau, also inform our nuclear-age warfare. A doctor can now perform once-unthinkable paralysis-saving surgery on your spine, but can that same doctor ever fix his own backbone when dealing with his father? Even our artwork, after generations of progress from cave paintings to wireless transmission of digital media, have also taken us from Homer to New Kids on the Block.

  

LOCKE: Years later a visiting prince came into Michelangelo's studio and found the master staring at a single 18 foot block of marble. Then he knew that the rumors were true -- that Michelangelo had come in everyday for the last four months, stared at the marble, and gone home for his supper. So the prince asked the obvious -- what are you doing? And Michelangelo turned around and looked at him, and whispered, sto lavorando, I'm working. Three years later that block of marble was the statue of David.

 

Two special artifacts from this classic opening scene, which are revisited at the ending of the episode, deserve special attention. The first is Jacob’s tapestry. The meticulously hand-crafted decoration initially appears in incomplete form. He has emblazoned the top section of the tapestry with ancient Greek lettering, a phrase from Homer’s Odyssey: “May the Gods grant thee all that thy heart desires”. Under those letters, the Egyptian symbol of the Eye of Horus, a symbol of divine power, occupies the center, between two massive wings. When Ben arrives at the statue centuries later, Jacob’s masterpiece is complete. Arms stretch down from the eye, towards nine human figures, while two kings observe from both sides. The image offers a visual representation of Jacob’s long-term plan, to give each piece ‘a little push’ into place for his endgame. Presumably, those nine individuals correspond to Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Ilana, Locke, Sun, Jin, Jack, and Hurley (although Ben might be the final person, as Ben received Jacob’s touch rather than Ilana). Much like the sequence of literal and figurative long cons that preceded this one, the tapestry doubles as a metaphor for the show’s writing process. The gods of this particular story, writers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, strung the audience along for several years, slowly revealing pieces, painting each character with care, until it was time to unveil this man behind the curtain. Of course, they understood that the journey was more important than the final destination. As Jacob later confesses: “It takes a very long time when you're making the thread, but, uh... I suppose that's the point, isn't it?”.

   

Allusions to outside mythology, of course, occur quite frequently on Lost. For every direct reference that the show makes, there are a dozen other meaningful comparisons to be made, some intentional (such as Apollo the son of Zeus, or Everything That Rises Must Converge) but many others are merely fortuitous. Minds working independently across the globe tend to converge on the same core ideas or mythemes. Mythology scholars have produced a number of different theories to explain why authors from different cultures, without any direct contact, produce legends with such striking similarities. Each theory of mythology necessary rests on a simplification and generalization, more valid for some works than for others. In my assessment, the work of French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss offers the deepest insight into the objectives of Lost-style myth-making. Lévi-Strauss posited that human beings organize information primarily through binary oppositions (pairs like faith-empiricism, freedom-determinism). The underlying storytelling purpose of any myth is to unify those irreconcilable opposites, or at least create the illusion that the conflict has been resolved. Through the clash of thesis and antithesis, we can arrive at a synthesis. The commonly-cited analysis of the tragedy of Oedipus Rex offers a useful example: Sophocles revealed the consequences for a son showing not nearly enough affection for one parent, by killing his father; and far too much affection for the other parent, by marrying his mother. The great Lost myth revolves around the mirroring psyches of its pair of heroes, Jack Shephard and John Locke, one child who received far too much parenting (with Christian pushing his adult son around the clock) and another child who received far too little parenting (with Cooper pushing his adult son out of the eight-story window). The endless dichotomies of Lost are indeed false ones, and no one who chooses one extreme side, can ever be fully correct.

  

LOCKE: Backgammon is the oldest game in the world. Archeologists found sets when they excavated the ruins of ancient Mesopotamia. Five thousand years old. That's older than Jesus Christ.

WALT: Did they have dice and stuff?

LOCKE: [nods] But theirs weren't made of plastic. Their dice were made of bones.

WALT: Cool.

LOCKE: Two players. Two sides. One is light … one is dark.

 

The second key artifact is Jacob’s home, the Statue itself. As confirmed through outside sources (although hardly apparent from the actual episode), the Statue represents the hippopotamus-headed Egyptian fertility goddess Tawaret. (The interior chamber also includes a painting of the Egyptian deity Isis, another goddess similarly associated with protection, birth, and motherhood.) Before this revelation, many people, including myself, predicted incorrectly that the Statue would depict Anubis, the jackal-faced god of death, judgment, and the underworld. Images of Anubis last appeared during Season Five's Dead is Dead, on the tunnel walls where Linus confronted the black Smoke, also known by its Greek mythological moniker, Cerberus. The overall implication here is that the dividing lines have been drawn, with Jacob’s light side linked to Life, with the Man in Black associated with Death. In flashback, Jacob’s touch breathes life in Locke’s fallen body, while his nemesis apparently has been manipulating corpses for years to help him commit a murder.

  

Among the ancient secrets revealed in this episode, Ricardus answers Ilana’s ongoing riddle “What lies in the shadow of the Statue?” with the Latin phrase: ille qui nos omnes servabit. The standard translation apparently characterizes Jacob as a messiah figure: the one who will save us all. Despite all preliminary indications, it would be a premature mistake to equate the light-dark imagery with a good-evil metaphor. As Frank Lapidus wisely remarks: “In my experience, the people who go out of their way to tell you that the good guys are the bad guys.” The basic conclusions are undisputed: Jacob wants to keep bringing people to the Island to bring about an Ending, while the Man in Black wants to kill Jacob and keep the Island isolated. (The physical acting of the two rivals even conveys their dueling outlooks, with Mark Pellegrino relaxing as he scans the horizon, but with Titus Welliver squinting uncomfortably in the reflected sunlight.) Conceivably, Jacob’s Ending, his desire for change, could include the death of all mankind, to make way for the birth of a new progressive era. A phrase on the bottom of his tapestry offers a foreboding hint of Jacob’s final solution to end human corruption: “Only the dead have seen the end of war”. Keep in mind, the first on-screen action of Jacob, the great fisher of men, was to gather life from the ocean, rip its guts out, and then devour it.

  

(Here is another fun etymological fact for all of the Latin lovers out there. Early in the episode, Bram and Ilana share a cryptic exchange about whether Frank might be a Candidate for their side, a term that undoubtedly will reappear in Season Six scripts. The Latin adjective candidatus literally means “dressed in white,” and Mr. Lapidus clearly fits that bill. The word developed its English meaning from the white gowns worn by Romans seeking senatorial election. The word also shares a common origin with the adjective candidus which could be used for its literal meaning of “white,” or in a more figurative sense as “clear”, “candid”, or in other words “Frank.”)

  

MIKHAIL: Ha! Don’t waste your time. For ten years I have tried to defeat that game. But it was programmed by three grand masters. And it cheats.

LOCKE: Hmm. Well, I’ve played a lot of computers and I’m pretty sure they don’t know how to cheat. That’s what makes being human so distinctly wonderful.

 

For the first time, The Incident allows the viewer to rise up from a ground-level view of the game pieces on earth, to see the chess board from the player’s perspective in the sky. The story begins with the Man in White and the Man in Black trapped in an eternal stalemate. The fisherman Jacob gathers people from the seas, and then his enemy the hunter watches them destroy each other. Like the layman’s definition of insanity, Jacob repeats the same action over and over, while expecting a different result, faithful that one day the humans will change their nature, and the outcome. As Jacob points out, though, time is on his side: only one counterexample is necessary to disprove a negative. The rules of the game favor an endless cycle of perfectly symmetrical violence, until one of the players can find a way to change, break, or at least bend the rules. The Man in Black found the loophole in the rules that would allow him to kill Jacob. Evidently, he needed to impersonate Locke (and a number of other departed souls along the way) in order to persuade Ben, the leader of the Others, to choose to murder Jacob. At the same time, Jacob knew that his opponent would exploit the technicality eventually. In response, Jacob found his own way to cheat the rules: he brought a handful of special individuals to the Island, so that they could erase the events that lead to his death. To borrow a key phrase from Lost creator J.J. Abrams’ 2009 Star Trek opus: “Going back in time, changing history ... that's cheating.” Both master plans required a tremendous degree of faith in mankind: Jacob placed his confidence in the better angels of our nature, the ability of separate individuals to collaborate on one final goal; the Man in Black went all-in gambling on the inherent weakness of Locke, the corruption of Ben, and the mindlessness of his followers.

  

Their debate about whether mankind can change its nature arrives alongside the time-travel corollary question of whether human beings can alter their future. The “we’re the variables” framework presented in Season Five - note the emphasis on the plural - suggests that one person acting alone cannot alter history. Due to our natural tendency to oppose each other, the reactions of some other person will negate that action. Season Five's test case demonstrated the principle, as Kate's efforts to save little Benjamin negated Sayid's attempts to destroy him. The light will drive away the darkness, and vice-versa. However, if enough individuals combine in an effort to alter history, then the magnetism of their aggregate positive charge can overcome the negative pull. When the dark energy approaches the Swan (Jack, Sayid, Jin, and Hurley - all shown as adults in flashback), the forces of light gather to stop them (James, Juliet, and Kate – each one appearing as a child). The ensuing argument between echoes the central time-travel issue of Season Five: James asserts “What’s done is done,” and Jack responds “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.” The resulting boxing match between the Black-Jack and Light-LaFleur depicts the larger war between the dueling demigods in microcosm: the two men are evenly matched when trading punches, so James exploits a few holes in Jack’s rulebook. In the end, though, one side prevails with nothing more than a little push to tip the scales. Juliet’s paradoxical, circular logic, a freely-willed decision grounded on her concept of predestination, resolves the conflict into its synthesis.

   

BERNARD: You realize we're the only two married guys on the island?

[He shows his ring]

BERNARD: Married?

JIN: Married.

BERNARD: Yeah, well, no, not to each other. No. (laughing) You got it. It's not easy, is it? Oh, I mean, it's--it's wonderful, but... let's face it, every decision that you make takes twice as long. 'Cause you always gotta talk them into it.

 

The episode’s black-and-white motif takes on a completely different meaning in the context of the Island’s two married couples. Part One includes the long-awaited return of Rose and Bernard, a couple whose bond transcends not only the color barrier between black and white, but also the perhaps deeper divide between a woman of faith and a man of science. The retired couple sets the example that the children refuse to follow, to lay down their differences and evolve into peaceful harmony. Subsequent flashbacks also reunite our other married couple, the wedding between Sun in her white dress and Jin in his black tuxedo. Western observers often mistakenly refer to the prominent Eastern symbols of yin and yang, as images of the struggle between good and evil. On the contrary, the black-and-white emblem common from Chinese philosophy (also incorporated into the flag of South Korea) represents duality rather than polarity. The dark and the light, the male and the female, instead of opposing each other become unified halves of a stronger whole. Jin provides another useful image: “We will never be apart, because being apart would be like the sky being apart from the earth.” Their wedding rings reinforce the idea of interconnectedness between the two halves of the same story, an unbreakable bond despite decades of separation. Sun’s later discovery of Charlie’s Driveshaft ring suggests a similar connection between the living and the dead, the past and the future. On a more depressing note, this episode also includes a third married couple, with the tragedy of Sayid and Nadia. While Sayid bleeds to death from his gunshot wound on the island, he suffers a deeper wound in flashback, his own sky being ripped away from his earth.

   

In what is either a sheer accident, or the product of intelligent design, the dark and light phenomenon even extends into the ongoing turmoil between the episode’s four romantic leads. On the physical level, James and Juliet share the same light-haired, lighter-eyed look of Jacob, while Jack and Kate share the same dark-haired, darker-eyed look of his nemesis. As Radzinsky might attest, basic electromagnetism holds that like charges repel and opposite charges attract. Even heading into the final season, the love quadrangle has never settled into a stable equilibrium, due to a peculiar mix of shared-physical-traits-with-opposite-personality-traits and vice versa. If you wanted a second opinion from Dr. Freud, then he could tell you a thing or too about Ms. Austen and Mrs. Shephard, Ms. Burke and Mrs. Ford. (Speaking of Freud, what can a psychoanalyst say about writers who changed temporarily the name of one of its leads from the revenge-driven Sawyer to flower-sniffing LaFleur. The Flower, as it translates from French to English, is traditionally associated with femininity, fertility, and even serves a common symbol for a certain part of the female anatomy. Fortunately, The Incident confirms that, “there ain’t no more LaFleur,” and with it the nominal castration of James Ford comes to an end.) The Incident focuses much of its creative energy on manufacturing motivations for each of the four lovers, to join forces to detonate Jughead, mostly at the expense of the supporting players. For each of these four characters, Lindelof and Cuse go too far in spelling out the answers to the audience in childish black-and-white terms, when shades of adult gray would have sufficed.

  

KATE: So, do you believe it?

JACK: Believe what?

KATE: That everything's going to be okay?

JACK: Yeah, I do.

KATE: Kind of unlike you -- the whole glass half-full thing.

JACK: There's a glass?

 

The childish immaturity of adults often comes across in a negative light, but child-like innocence can also be seen as a positive trait. Hurley, more than any other character, has been blessed (or, depending on your perspective, cursed) with the heart of a child. The adult Hugo not only enjoys a nice cherry Fruit Rollup on his ride home from jail, but he is thoughtful enough to offer to share it with a stranger. Just as any girl Juliet’s age will blame her own actions for her parents’ failed marriage, Hurley similarly internalizes the misfortunes of others as his own personal shortcoming. Hurley’s conversation with Jacob carries the same tune as any kid in need of parental guidance. Jacob’s words add another classic binary opposition to this tapestry of black and white: optimism and pessimism. There are always two ways to look at any situation. Even the darkest curse might be viewed as a brilliant blessing in disguise. As a point of caution, though, the converse of that principle also holds some merit. Throughout this story, Jack plays the unlikely role of a zealous optimist. Absolutely confident in the plan’s improbable success, he illuminates all of the wonderful merits of the revised timeline (Sayid’s life will be saved, Jin will get reunite with Sun, Claire will have the chance to keep Aaron, etc.). Foolish optimism can be a more dangerous force than cautious pessimism. His alternate future easily could result in an abyss of darkness, rather than a beacon of sunshine.

  

After so many rays of hope, the story of John Locke now ends in the gloomiest depths of tragedy. Frank quotes the same eternal question that links together Through the Looking Glass with There’s No Place Like Home: “What’s in the box?”. Three years later, the answer remains the same: Locke’s rotting corpse. John's life ended with him alone, miserable, and a failure. He was a puppet on strings, pulled by Cooper, by Ben, and by the Man in Black, and then discarded as a piece of trash, like on the day he was born. In a way, the entity now occupying Locke’s body has been fulfilling John Locke’s lifelong dreams. Locke always wanted to become a decisive leader, a man strong enough stand up to the Coopers and Linuses and Jacobs of the world. This master pulling the strings is unburdened by John’s emotional scars, his neediness, his self-doubt, even his morality. John’s ambitions of divinity could not be reconciled with his identity as a mortal, so one of those two needed to die. Even so, Locke’s tragic curse can be viewed as a blessing of martyrdom. Seemingly, Locke’s last chance for redemption hinges upon the success of Shephard’s mission to erase history. His phony resurrection in The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham could be explained only by a cheap deus ex machina. The alternative option, resuming his life in a wheelchair at LAX, would be the product of his own leadership, the effect of mentoring Jack into a true believer. Jack drops the warhead onto the Swan site, like a kid tossing a coin into a wishing well, with the hope that when the magic box opens again, whatever he imagines will come true.

   

LOCKE: You have to do it.

JACK: You do it yourself, John.

LOCKE: No, you saw the film, Jack. This is a two person job, at least. […] I can't do this alone, Jack. I don't want to. It's a leap of faith, Jack.

 

Jack’s mad quest to detonate the bomb and prevent the Incident should remind the audience of Locke’s equally mad quest to end the 108-minute cycle of button-pushing once and for all. The content of Season Two’s Live Together, Die Alone resembles The Incident in other ways as well, a two-hour flashback episode to introduce a new character, with a timer ticking down to a scheduled event, which ends with one last heroic gesture to "make it all go away" in a flash of light. (Also, it never hurts to add liberal doses of the Great Radzinsky into your script.) These two episodes pull their characters violently towards the same magnetic focal point, with metal projectiles flying through the air. In each case, the man of faith puts his blind beliefs to an empirical test, to find a yes-or-no, black-and-white scientific question. Locke told us: “I’m more sure about this than anything in my entire life,” and he was wrong. For Jack, the words are: “Nothing... nothing in my life has ever felt so right.” (These statements also reveal a great deal about the degree of confidence the two men felt in themselves over the years.) The destinies of these two great men have been intertwined quite beautifully. Indeed, the outcome of one question hinges upon the answer to the other. If Jack had succeeded in destroying the energy, then Locke would have been correct as the timer ticked down to zero. On the other hand, if the Button truly served no purpose, then Oceanic 815 would have crashed regardless of any Incident, and Jack’s plan would have no effect on the timeline. I cannot help but admire their pure strength of will required to risk everything, seemingly beyond good and evil, beyond fate and free will.

  

Lost’s famous Live Together, Die Alone dichotomy reappears in another form, in the story of Juliet. When Jack first spoke those words in Season One’s White Rabbit, he phrased it as an either-or choice: “if we can’t live together, then we’re going to die alone.” When Juliet references the mantra in The Incident, she makes a crucial misstatement, “Live together and die alone” (at least, according to the closed-captions on my DVD.) A few minutes later, Juliet indeed does die alone, in the hope that everyone else might live again, together at LAX. The method of her death, proved to be an inspired creative choice. James, who tried desperately to lift John from the well in This Place is Death, once again found himself on the losing end of a tug-of-war with the grim reaper. Despite moving on from the death of his parents to build a new life, he finds himself in the same place as his childhood self in Tennessee, losing the woman he loves most in the world. The magnetically-charged chains, pulling her down into the gaping hole, offers a more scientific counterpart to the fantasy-inspired image of the Smoke Monster’s black hand of Death. Chains commonly serve as a symbol of restraint, imprisonment, inevitability, the antithesis of human liberty. In the famous words of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, "Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains." Pulled underground against her will, Juliet makes one last free choice, to erase countless freely-willed decisions of others. She achieves her destiny by destroying the chain of events that caused her to fulfill that destiny.

  

When the final white screen with black letters appears for the first time, after five years of white-on-black writing, the implication is clear: the Lost universe as we know it has inverted itself. The central binary dilemma of Season Five hangs in the balance with the flash of light. Two players, two sides. Did the events of the Season-Five-ending Incident prevent the Season One-opening Pilot’s crash of Oceanic 815? Or did the characters cause the very future they were trying to prevent? Both options offer a mix of positives and negatives. A brand new timeline would offer fresh storytelling opportunities, and a chance to revisit old friends long gone. On the other hand, the explosion would also incinerate the entire five-season hand-crafted tapestry of the Island story. The entire post-1977 universe, including the 2007 storyline of the Incident, would amount to nothing more than a dream. Preserving the old timeline would re-affirm the show’s fundamental rules for meaningful storytelling stakes: dead is dead; whatever happened, happened. With that solution, the entire time-travel story arc that lead to this finale event, and all those post-cliffhanger months of anticipation, would become meaningless. (Logistically, I don’t think either solution even makes much logical sense.) Perhaps the fatal flaw of this debate is that we view it as a debate. As Juliet did, maybe we should simple replace the word ‘OR’ with the word ‘AND’. There can be two universes, one in which Jacob succeeds, and one in which the Man in Black succeeds. Instead of conflict, we can find harmony. As the men who first painted on cave walls understood, one color is not enough. A world of pure white and a world of pure black would be indistinguishable from chaos. But, when you combine the dark and the light in some kind of balance, then any work of art becomes possible.

       

Rai Pawpad: "Wow! This is cool! It doesn't even smell bad!'

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at Rai. "Yeah..it's really cool. And these boxes are good to sleep on 'cause then the rats don't walk on you."

 

River Grau scrambles inside after the other children..Since he had seen it before, it wasn't much of a big deal to him.

 

Rai Pawpad nods and bounces. "Yeah, I wish we had these under the park. Can I take some down there?"

 

Jaina Lefevre blinks at him. "Under the park? S'prolly better if you sleeps here. It's safer. No wolves to eat you."

 

Rai Pawpad circles the room. "Yeah, well I will now! " He casts a superior look over his shoulder at her. "Wolves are nothin. You can smell em coming a mile away."

 

River Grau frowned and nodded at Jaina's words. "There are wolves in the park an' they dun like peoples much. Gotta stay away at night, an' I heard 'em howlin' and stuff last night. Reaally scary wolves. I call the brown one Brown wolf, and a black one I saw is called Blackie Scary Wolf."

 

Rai Pawpad roots under the desk. "Yeah, I know the one you mean. The black one. I seen him a couple times. Smells like wet dog."

 

Jaina Lefevre shivers. "I seen one once. It kept licking it's mouth like it was hungry and I looked yummy." She watches Rai. "Hey...if you gets really hungries, you knowed where I live. But I'm gonna see about gettin' Nanny to carry a big box of stuff here. Okay?"

 

River Grau didn't have that problem with the wolves. They seemed nice enough, "Well, when I saw 'em they ain't seem very hungry."

 

Rai Pawpad sticks his head out from underneath the desk. "Thanks. That'd be good. But I get food okay, don't worry. If I get really hungry I can always let that redhaired lady try to kidnap me again. She comes on with the good stuff. "

 

Jaina Lefevre watches Rai and then frowns. "What redhaired lady? Tauntie Lilli?"

 

Rai Pawpad stands and makes a curvy gestrure with his hands. "Nah...the newpaper lady. "

 

Jaina Lefevre nosewrinkles. "She's older'n Auntie Farts. I don't like her 'cause she's mean."

 

River Grau wonders if he is the only child in Midian whom doesn't get kidnapped. "Uhmm.. Maybe you should stay 'way from kidnappin' ladies. Or find someone to act like a big brother, so if you do you have protection.." Blinkblink. "HER? Why does she wanna kidnap you?"

 

River Grau: She hates kids.

 

Rai Pawpad bounces back to the top of the table. "She thinks I'm her brother or somethin."

Rai Pawpad looks at Jaina. "And she's mean as HELL! Did you know she has a kid up there, in a room above teh Snake Pit, and she keeps him tied up all the time, and feeds him nothing but bananas?"

 

Jaina Lefevre eyerolls. "I knowed I don't got no brothers or sisters. They all died." She blinks at him. "She does? Is he all yellow?"

 

Rai Pawpad nods. "Almost. He looks pretty bad. She keeps him tied in a box."

 

River Grau blinks, head tilting. "Bastian is sick an' I dun think Mister David would let her do that. Since it's Mister David's kid an' all. He gots luke-and-'em. So he's sick and just bananas would make him sicker.

 

Jaina Lefevre oohs. "He's a weird kid. Wants to be the boss of the world. I think he needs t'be unpluggeded."

 

Rai Pawpad exhales. "See, that's where you're wrong again, River. She's obviously a wicked stepmother. And I've been up to see Bastian. Was locked in with him for a whole day and a night. Were you?"

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs. 'No fightings. Tengu."

 

Rai Pawpad: "I'm not fighting! I'm just saying what I know. He's saying what grown-ups told him."

 

River Grau rolls his eyes and Rai and looks to Jaina.

 

River Grau sighs. He then gets an idea, trying to change the subject. "Why don't we ask that Niyol kid if he wants to join us? Maybe he can teach us stuff on how to form the group since he seems like he knows lots. An' we can make a rule, older kids can't lead us just 'cause they are older."

 

Rai Pawpad shrugs. "Ask your mom, princess. Ask Deets if she wasn't mad that Leor was keepin some hybrid kid locked up in the bar." He turns and hisses. "No! Not that kid!"

 

Jaina Lefevre tips her head and looks at River. "Sister D said I hadta meet him 'cause I was smart like him and he don't have ears'n tail nee....ither." she fumbles a bit on the last word and shrugs. "Well...you does."

 

Rai Pawpad shakes his head. "What, River, you just NEED someone to push you around? Is that it?"

 

River Grau turns, completely ignoring Rai's outburst. "Uhm, so whatcha think Jaina?"

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs. "He ain't gonna if we don't let him. And big kids can get stuff little kids can't, so he's got useful bits." She says this to Rai.

 

Jaina Lefevre is probably the first almost-six-year old to say he's got 'useful bits'...

 

Pawpad huffs. "You didn't see how he...He was pushin me around....pushin all of us around. Like he was... some kind of UAC or somethin!"

 

River Grau gives Jaina a look as if wondering if he seriously has to deal with this. Sighing, he just shakes his head. He was going to be a good little boy, foronce.

 

Jaina Lefevre just looks at Rai. "Do you really REALLY think he's gonna push /me/ around? I don't think so."

Jaina Lefevre: ...and you wonder why Nanny is never around...

 

Rai Pawpad growls. "He better not. Nobody better push you around."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks at River. "You knowed where he is? We can see how it works with a big kid comin' to our place..."

Jaina Lefevre looks up at Rai. 'Our place. Our rules. He can always go 'way."

 

River Grau nodded, "So is he in? Can we ask him? I dun' really know much about him, but he seems cool. He hangs out at the church somtimes."

 

Rai Pawpad looks at Jaina and nods once, his lips tight.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks at River. "Go see if he's around?"

 

River Grau nods to Jaina and moved out the door. "Alrigh."t. If I find him I'm gonna bring him 'round

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at River and then looks over at Rai. "It's a good way t'see how this works. This Tengu." She smooths her skirt.

 

Rai Pawpad watches her, uneasy now that she can see him staring, but unable to stop. "Yeah. I guess. It's not exactly what I had planned, you know. I got a war to run. "

 

Jaina Lefevre does that one brow thing. "A war? With who?"

 

Rai Pawpad: "To overthrow the governmint, of course. A gorilla war."

 

Jaina Lefevre blinks at him. "Like...the may-ore? Or the World Union gubmint?"

 

Rai Pawpad leans back and considers. "Well, I'll start with the mayor. Then I'm gonna have to take on the mainland."

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Gotta start small, Rai. Like..easy stuff first. Like...get Tengu strong. Then...then we get weapons..."

 

Rai Pawpad pulls his knees up. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I been making weapons, but I think we're gonna need more."

 

Jaina Lefevre: "You knowed who my Mommies are?"

 

Rai Pawpad pulls out a notebook from his backpack and reads, "Deets Carroll, owner of the Snake Pit, Debra Somethin..head of Blackstar. " He looks up. "Right?"

 

Jaina Lefevre frowns. "Shar-ron. And yeah. So, weapons is easy to get, when we're ready."

 

Rai Pawpad jumps as he feels a buzz in his shirt. "Hang on..." He pulls out a phone and holds it awkwardly to his ear. "Yeah?"

 

Jaina Lefevre watches him for a moment, then toys with her skirt.

 

Rai Pawpad jumps down. "It's my friend. Bas. I got to go find him."

 

Bastian Magic laughs hard as he yanks the door open

 

Jaina Lefevre twitches. "The creepy kid in the wheelchair?" She glares as he pulls the door open. "You weren't invited. This is our clubhouse."

 

Rai Pawpad: "What're you doing out of your box?"

 

Bastian Magic glares at the girl. "Shut up you stupid ugly girl... your mother put me in that wheel chair... she's a kid poisoner!"

 

Bastian Magic grins at Rai... "I'm feeling loads better..."

 

Jaina Lefevre smiles at him. "You can't tell me to shut up. You ain't invited. Get. Out."

 

Bastian Magic looks at Rai... "You gonna tell her?"

 

Rai Pawpad arches an eyebrow at Jaina. "Evil stepmother. I told you."

 

Jaina Lefevre: "My Mama isn't evil. She loves me. And I don't like him."

 

Bastian Magic turns around "I don't like you either... you're ugly and stupid and your mother is so evil and stupid and ugly too and don't think cause you're a girl I won't fight you and kick your ass!"

 

Jaina Lefevre smiles. "Lay a hand on me and I'll bite your face off." She points at the door. "Go. Away."

 

Bastian Magic stands with his hands on his hips... "You make me little miss priss... I dare you, chowder head."

 

Rai Pawpad looks Bas over. "You look better. How'd you find me?"

 

Jaina Lefevre looks at Rai. "Tengu."

 

River Grau rolls his eyes as he hears the noises outside the door. Opening it, he frowns at the people in here. "Just shut up! This is why we need Niyol! He gets you guys to stop this."

 

Bastian Magic glares at Jaina... "I can find anyone in Midian.. this is my city! Before it was yours ugly girl."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He follows hair puller to the factory. Lifting up a hand to scratch at his head as the kid opens up the door and he hears all the bickering inside. "What have I gotten myself into." He mutters to himself under his breath, staring at the kids on theotherside of the door.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks up at Niyol and then back at Bastian. "He's not in our group." She looks at River and then back to Niyol. "Hi. I'm Jaina. You is a guest in our clubhouse. He's an intruder." she points to Bastian.

 

Rai Pawpad looks up at Jaina, and puts a hand on Bas's arm, ready to pull him outside, when the big menace comes through the door. He freezes.

 

Bastian Magic growls at the girl... "This isn't yours... your just a no good squatter."

 

River Grau waves the Bastian, as if nothing argumentive was going on. "Hey Bastian. Glad to see you are better. I tried to poison the Deets lady for hurtin' you but it didn't work. That's okay though, 'cause she's nice to me now."

 

Bastian Magic points at the girl... "She's fakin it... because she has a traitor kid now... that girl."

 

Rai Pawpad stiffens. "Shut up, Bas! Don't be talking about the Princess like that!"

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs. It was so nice before Bastian magically appeared at the door of the secret clubhouse that no one knew about until about an hour ago.

 

River Grau blinks a little, "But that's the only reason why she's bein' nice to me, 'cause Jaina's my frient." A snort was given towards Rai at the mention of princess. "This group sucks. None of yah are doin' anythin' right."

 

Bastian Magic makes a face... "Ewww, you're HER friend? Well... no accountin for taste... and you guys are squatin in my house... I live here... gonna have Caty come and live with me."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He would give a small nod to the girl on the box.... before he would remain standing at the door a moment in silence, simply watching the children before his hand would come up to rub at his forehead. His head would slowly shake.... peering through fingers at each of them. His gaze locks onto anklebitter manhandling another kid. His eyebrow would slowly raise at that as his hand lowers. "Hello Anklebiter." He'd then glance to the kid in red and then the rest, keeping silent.

 

Jaina Lefevre gets to her feet and shakes dress out before approaching Niyol. "Sister D said I should meet you 'cause you're smart too and you ain't got ears and tails."

 

Rai Pawpad looks at River and lifts his lips in a snarl. "You're welcome to leave anytime. Don't let the door hit your tail on the way out." He looks up at the greeting from the big menace, and sinks back. "Hi."

 

River Grau mutters something about if Jaina just wanted him to bring the older boy here because of that, she should have found him herself. Ears pressed flat against his head at Bastian's comment. "Shut it, dwarf."

 

River Grau crosses his arms over his chest, "Rai, if yah dun' treat me with some respect I am givin' yah another black eye and leaving this group. I've been tryin' to be good all day, but I am tired of you bein' such a snot face."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He grins at the girl a moment. "That's what people say.... that I'm smart, but don't hold it against me. " His eyes narrow at all the bickering. "Wholy fuck, you all bend over and let bugs crawl up your asses? shit calm down yeesh." He rolls his eyes a moment before lookin' back to the girl. "I take it you're Jaina."

 

Bastian Magic: "Holy shit that man just fucking cursed at you..." Bas says to River... then giggles... "I ain't a dwarf... just need to eat more...."

 

Jaina Lefevre nods. "Yep. And that's Rai, and you knowed River, and that's someone that doan belong here." she points to Bastian at the end. Turning back to him she offers her hand. "Welcome to the Tengu clubshouse. We don't fight in here, cause kids have to stick together." She glances at Bastian. "Well, /some/ kids..."

 

Bastian Magic looks at Rai... "If she's your fucking keeper Rai, it was nice knowin' ya... girls ain't no fun to play with. You can have my old house... I got a real home now with my dad."

 

Rai Pawpad snarls. "Shut up, Bas, you're being kept in frishin box by some lady. Don't even start. And she's the Princess Empress, is all. Not my keeper. Just my secred duty to bring her to the throne."

 

Bastian Magic rolls his eyes at Rai... "Well, if Princess stupid head would move, I'll leave you to your stupid game of house... I got a space ship back at my house... that's no box...."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He shakes his head slowly once more, he jerks a thumb towards the door. "I'm going to go and come back another time when ya'll ain't bein' dipshits. You want a group for kids to look after kids and shit, you fuckin' try and look out for every fuckin' body... even if it ain't freakin' possible." He glances to the girl and then to the boys. "Ain't gonna fight in here eh?... I dun even come close to the fuckin' door and already I hear ya'll bitchin' about who's got the biggest wad in their diapers." He shakes his head slowly. "The moment ya start stuffin' someone up on pedastool and excludin' people, things go to shit. All us kids got are eachother. Fuck... " He begins to turn for the door.

 

Rai Pawpad steps forward to grab Bastian. "Don't let him go.... he's crazy or something. They realy do keep him in a box!"

 

River Grau frowns, stepping after Niyol. Hands were waving in the air as he tried to stop the older boy. "Hey, that's why I asked yah to come. Everyone is all screwed up here! Make 'em stop fighting." Eyes then shooting to Rai as he grabs for the boy. "Don't do nothin' to him. And yeah, the lady does lock him up. But he's real sick an' needs nurses."

 

Bastian Magic yanks his arm from Rai... "God, playing with that girl's made you as stupid as she is... that's my house... the one I had... Leor got it from the back and brought it up for me... she saved Baa Baa too... she's not great, but at least she doesn't throw other people's kids down into the sewer after feeding them poison cherries... " he looks at Niyol with something like respect... "you;re wicked cool...."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches Niyol and then turns to look at the others. "Y'know, we need to have big kids to talk to so they can help things make sense sometimes. But if ya don't want to help kids 'cause it's not easy, then see ya." She smiles at Niyol then.

 

Bastian Magic yanks the door open... "Stinky girl..." he says and skedadddles.

 

Rai Pawpad bounces back up to the top of the desk. "I was tryin to help him. But he's crazy."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He looks down at river at the attempt to barricade him/ distract him from leaving. And the girl from behind him, trying to gloat him. "I help you lot a lot more than ya know. Talkin' ta the adults ta get ya the shit out of fuckin' trouble... tryin' ta get ya guys food, shelter and shit though gettin' us all to look out for eachother." He would turn slowly to face the girl, his shoulders squared. "But this" He splays his hand to the rabble before him, and the boy that ran off. He shakes his head slowly. "You're acting just like the fuckin' adults. Excludin' and not gettin' what I'm tryin' ta drive into ya bleedin' little skull... " He shakes his head slowly

 

River Grau looks vrom Niyol to the other children. "That's what I wanna do. I like the idea of gettin' food an' stuff to the other orphans. An' find some way so that we can protect kids gettin' beat up by adults. How many of you had gotten beat up by adults before? Arguein' an' stuff ain't helpin. And I'm tryin' to be real nice today so I don't pop Rai one. But he's not helpin' stuff either, fightin' like that."

 

Rai Pawpad swishes his tail. "What? Only fight I got in today was with tha psycho with the knife. And you had nothin to do with it. I'm being patient."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches him, eyes shifting from face to face, then back to Niyol. "Some kids are dang'rous. And I can get food from my Mommy to bring here and stuff. So, we all wanna do the good stuff, and be safe."

 

River Grau nods at Jaina's words, "An' I was gonna get Aunt Saki to bring stuff from the kitchen."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He grunts lowly at the girl. "Everyone is dangerous in their own ways, you just learn where to direct that.... " His hand moves to Anklebiter. "Take Anklebiter over here... he's a scrapper, prone to gettin' into fights... put him to use as a guard encase any adults decide to harrass a kid, but he ain't a commander.... he's a scrapper. The tough guy ya go to when ya need shit done hard and without much backtalk so long as somethin' gets pummeled.. " He glances then to Rai. "Am I right anklebiter?" He gives the kid a reverse nod.

 

Rai Pawpad returns his gaze. "I do what I have to do. But I'm the Prince. I'm gonna be running Midian someday." He laughs a little. " I guess I better learn to be a commander."

 

River Grau rolled his eyes at Rai yet said nothing. He listened to Niyol intently, gaze shifting between the older boy and Jaina. Rai was mostly ignored.

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at Rai. "I'll teaches you. I learn lots from Mommy's books." She looks over to River and then to Niyol. "What's River and me?"

 

Niyol Clawtooth: "Gotta curb that temper first otherwise ya just another brute with a stick. You've got to use this" He taps his head, before his hand lowers and moves between Jaina and River, pausing first on Jaina... "Ya definitely a brains girl... already able to wrap people up around ya finger. Get people to do what ya want... but ya lack grounding something or someone keepin' ya on from not thinkin' ya own the bloody world and getttin' yaself killed tryin' ta acomplish it. " He jerks a thumb to hair puller, river. "Hair puller here.... sorry.. River here. is well grounded and from what I can tell of his fightin' ... he knows or rather is learning fast when to fight and when to talk but... he's got a mouth on him, needs" he points to Jaina." brains to remember what To say that won't get shit in worse shit." He points to Anklebiter. "And brawn that he can trust to have his back in a brawl. " He pauses... seeing if any of that sunk in.

 

Rai Pawpad would snort at the idea of him getting River's back, if the nose River bashed the night before last was up to snorting.

 

Jaina Lefevre nods to Niyol, then looks from River to Rai. 'He's smart. And he sees stuff." She grins and looks up at Niyol again, a glint of intelligence a child her age should not have in those eyes. "I don't think I can do it all. S'why not everyone is Tengu. But we can do some, and tha's better than nothingm, right?"

 

River Grau grinned slightly, nodding to Jaina at what Niyol said. "Yah do act like you can tell just anyone what to do.. But you're real good at gettin' people to listen to you." An ear flicked at the snort, "You wanna join a group Rai? You gotta listen to the other people. I think Niyol is good at helpin' us 'cause we are kids. He's bigger so the kids will listen to him, but he ain't gonna boss us 'round because he's bigger."

 

Rai Pawpad looks at River then Niyol. "Yeah? He was pretty bossy the other night." He holds up a hand. "But I can listen. He's makin sense." He hops down. "I did okay on my own, you know? I don't HAVE to do this." He looks at Jaina. "But it seems like a good idea. Smart."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He remains silent, looking at the trio remaining silent. He still had not made up his mind whether or not to join this little club when he had one of his own he and a few others ran behind the scenes without pins stating they were a club, to help look out for the little guys. He simply watches the trio... brains, brawn, solid. If they formed a council for themselves and he meerly advized... broke up fights and shit... he mused, they might make it. his brown eyes moved from one to the other.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks over at Rai, then at River. "We need to ask Kimi before it's final, right?" She grins at Niyol. "We got four Ravens. We swore an oaf. But we could make you a pigeon until we talk to Kimi and get the vote. If ya want. " she pauses "You..want?"

 

Rai Pawpad looks at Jaina. "I vote aye. Only if he stops callin me anklebiter."

 

River Grau looked 'round the room, thinking. "Maybe Niyol can be somethin' else. A pigeon ain't right for him, cause he's bigger an' just watchin' out for us. Like a Mother Goose or Mama Hen. Plus, we're all little kids so maybe he ain't wanna be in the group, which is also alright. I just thought he cuold help us stop fightin'." He nods, "But if he wants to be in the group, I vote aye too."

 

Rai Pawpad rolls his eyes. "River, you may be a little kid. I'm not."

 

Jaina Lefevre: "Pigeon is the start. He can be a hawk or somethin' after Kimi votes. We made an oaf."

 

River Grau covers his right hand from Niyol's view with his left and flicks off Rai for just a second. He acts like everything is normal, and doesn't respond to Rai's comment.

 

Niyol Clawtooth: "age... everything comes back to age." He rolls his eyes. "Age is nothing, experience is everything. " He glances from each of them... Four.... hmm... an even number... an unfortunate if they are tied....

 

Rai Pawpad feels a buzz at his back, and pulls out his phone. He looks at it for a minute and up catching River's gesture. He just smiles. "I've got somethin to attend to. Scuze me Niyol." He turns and does a quick little bow. "Princess."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks at Niyol. 'You want to be a pigeon until we talk to Kimi and then you can be a Hawk or somethin?" She waves. "Bye Rai."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: "I'll think about it. Talk to this Kimi first, get their take on the deal and... we'll see." He steps out of the way of anklebiter before looking back to Jaina and River.

 

River Grau frowns, head tilting. "If Rai's gonna be a gaurd, we need another name for the fighters. One of 'ems gotta not be a Falcon." He nodded to Niyol, "You make a beter Father Hen than a Hawk, 'cause htose are the spies."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He laughs!.... "A father hen is a .... " He doubles over a moment. "So... if I get called a father hen ... Then i'm a " He laughs his mind completing the sentence-a prick!, how apt!-

 

River Grau doesn't get it and stares at Niyol for a moment in puzzle. He then then points a hand at him, "See, he likes Father Hen."

 

Jaina Lefevre giggles a little and shakes her head. "That's not good 'cause we can't say that around Mama. She'd be mad." She thinks a moment "How about a Crane?"

 

Niyol Clawtooth: "Or Talon. Not a bird itself, but well. I'll be tryin' ta help ya'll like ya were mah little bro's and sisters so... " He shrugs slowly....

 

River Grau nods, liking that. "Yeah, 'cause you're watchin' out for us. Now we gotta pick another bird to be a fighter if a Falcon is now a gaurd. Although I think Rai would be a better Vulture than a Falcon."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks over at River, then back to Niyol. "Talon for the watcher helpers." she nods.

 

Niyol Clawtooth: He shrugs, not minding the name or role... He lifts a finger to rub his nose a moment. "or call 'em or me eagles " He chuckles. His own motivations behind that.

 

River Grau frowned at Jaina, "An' what 'bout the other stuff I said 'bout the gaurds an' fighters?" He didn't like being blatently ignored.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks over at River. "We gotta talk to th'others about it and I gotta go. Mommy's supposed to be home t'night."

 

River Grau nods, happy now that something was said about it. "Okay.. I wish my Momma stopped bein' busy 'cause lots of times when I go home nobody is there."

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at River. "Mine work too much." She looks up at Niyol. "Thanks Niyol. We'll talk t'Kimi and let ya know."

 

River Grau nods to Jaina, "Yeah, I'll probbly just sleep in the kitchen tonight. Tired of goin' to Levi an nobody bein' there." He gives a wave, "Night Jaina."

 

Niyol Clawtooth: "Alright. Laters all" He would turn to move to leave. He'd glance to River. "My number is on the back wall of the Kitchen. Technically squirt " he laughs. "I'm one of ya bosses." He then moves to todder off. "laters all"

 

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.

 

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.

 

Last Saturday I took my Audi to my buddy’s shop near Slatington so she could receive the required state inspection. It’s about an hour ride from my house which is too far for me- actually anything is too far for me on the weekends since I am a commercial driver and see nothing but the road (and the occasional boobs on it) all week long. If I didn’t get home on the weekends I’d probably lose my mind, more than I have already. But it was a wonderful day for a drive, and I enjoyed chatting with my buddy while his talented staff attended to my ride.

 

The ride up was pleasant. It feels good to drive something with some agility after 5 days and 2,000 some-odd-miles behind the wheel of something with 18 tires. The drive back was also decent, right up until I was halfway home on Interstate 78. I was passing some slower cars at a fair rate, cruising along at almost ten miles above the speed limit. (Don’t look at me like that, I know you do it as well when conditions allow.) I’m very careful never to exceed the posted speed limit by more than that because if I were to be pulled over going more than 15mph above whatever the speed limit is, I would automatically lose my commercial driving privileges, followed by my home, possibly my wife and a whole lot of other things. In addition, I’m not one of the aforementioned boobs who treat the highway as a racetrack. In addition, I like to look around at the scenery, from old barns in the country to pretty girls wearing short skirts in the city, I notice it all because I have eyes and that’s what they’re there for.

 

So anyway, there I am, sliding on westbound when in the midst of a mirror scan (I’m a professional even when piloting a fine German automobile) I notice a small black car, about a half mile behind me, flashing high-beams and closing in fast. Really fast.

 

Let me stop right here and explain something, notably, this kind of behavior. When someone does things like flashing their high-beams, and I see it quite often during my journeys on the road, the “flashee” is not saying, “Um…excuse me. I’m kind of in a hurry. Would you mind moving out of my way, pretty please?” It is aggressive, totally uncalled for and sometimes gets people killed. (I’ve seen that on the road before, you might have too.) This kind of driver is actually saying, “Move the **** over you ******* *******! Now! ****!” Really. If we could eavesdrop inside the car driven by a boob, you know that’s what we would hear or something along those lines. There’s no need for it and I won’t be a party to such nonsense by putting my right foot to the floor. I’ll leave the cruise set and move over after I passed who I am passing. I won’t engage the aggressor because that could lead to a gunfight and nobody likes that on a highway, especially during such a nice weekend.

 

So that’s what I did. Unfortunately (or, fortunately, depending on how much you like my writing) the guy, now two inches off my bumper, swung alongside me before I felt it was safe to come back into the granny lane as he was demanding. He let me know how he felt. At least he was nice enough to match my speed while I took a picture of his stunningly perfect upright middle finger. It was a lucky shot too, because I simply picked the camera up from the passenger seat, extended my arm towards the window and fired. (I know- I’m really lucky he didn’t fire back. I was in a turbocharged Audi, he was in some dumb Ford, so I figured I could have outran him if need be. You gotta think these things through.)

 

What’s the point of all these words? Well, I guess I could have made a pointless call to the State Police and whined about my situation. Instead, I choose to share it with the world because it worked the last time I posted a similar picture of an aggressive young lady who was terrorizing my family while I sat in the shotgun seat one fine day on the outer loop around Baltimore. (I think that’s where we were when she pulled up alongside us and stuck her tongue out at me while I snapped a photo.) I stuck that picture up on Flickr complete with a story (www.flickr.com/photos/mrjharry/7756042178/ ) about what I thought of her, how she made me feel. The next day a very good of friend of mine sent me a text saying that his niece was the driver. I did not believe him until he texted me a picture of the car AND the license plate. The odds were so unreal that I still can’t believe it. My friend shared the story with his brother-in-law and “somebody” got into some trouble. I felt bad for her at first. Later I thought, if someone had done that same thing to me during my younger years, maybe I would have cleaned up my act sooner than I did and saved myself all those fines along with the pleasure of meeting so many fine officers of the law. It was a good time though- at least until I pushed things far enough to find myself standing in front of a judge. Those folks make me nervous.

 

Life is filled with “maybes.” That’s why I am sharing this story of a recent encounter with a roadway terrorist. Maybe his mother will read this and have a talk with him about his poor social behavior. Maybe his father will read it and have a talk with him about keeping a car clean or scold him for his poor taste in automobiles. Maybe a young driver will read this and learn how not to act. Maybe one of my Russian friends will read this and have a “late-night” talk with him one evening when he least expects it.

 

Maybe you will read it and remember we all have somewhere to go. Some of us are not always in a hurry; others are not very skilled to begin with or have lost their edge with age. Be good and save those “One finger salutes” for important stuff like Mondays or those troubling times when you walk into a public restroom and discover a full-house during a serious emergency. Thanks for reading. Drive kind, travel safely.

 

It will disintegrate upon contact with the energy Barrier, it will end SIGMA and all similar projects to come, the creatures of your planet are not yet ready for space." John replies, "Who are you to decide." Van answers, "We have only your best interests at heart, in the realm of outer space you are only children and it is disastrous for children to enter areas where they have little understanding, John I can offer you the opportunity of joining us." John replies, "You can go to Hell!, I was born a human, and I'll die one, before I join a race that kills innocent people for abstract ideas." Van replies, "Abstract ideas, very well, you've made your decision, one I'm certain you'll deeply regret, for only death remains." Van puts his hand over John's chest, a high pitched tone is heard, John collapses into Van's arms, he puts him on the floor, just as Cybill enters, she sees John on the floor, she kneels down to John, Van says, "He couldn't stand the acceleration, I knew he should have stayed behind." Van leaves and goes to the control room and makes an announcement, "this is the Captain speaking, we have successively completed the first phase of our mission, and I wish to congratulate all members of the crew, I can now reveal the plan by which we can overcome the cosmic accumulations which have destroyed all of our previous manned satellites, the plan consists of 2 steps, step 1 has already been accomplished, this called for a Blast velocity of 1000 times that of our previous satellites, a force which has carried us into an orbit far beyond the moon, at our present velocity, this cosmic mass if encountered will act as a solid impenetrable wall, however at the first indication of this mass, the SIGMA BARRIER as we call it, we will put into operation the 2nd step of our plan, which varies according to necessity, if at this time we have accumulated enough solar energy for 750 miles per second, we shall be able to blast through the barrier,so doing destroying it, (Dave finds Cybill who is watching Van on the monitor) should the barrier appear before this, we shall take immediate action to avoid it." Cybill asks Dave, "What are you doing here, you should be in operations," Van continues, "I regret to inform you, there has been one casualty, Astronautical engineer John Compo was found dead apparently the result of Blast Acceleration, all hands not on duty will attend the space funeral at 14:00 hours." Dave says, "Cybill I've got to talk to you, it's about Van, he's not human." Cybill says, "Huh!, Dave don't be ridiculous." Dave replies, "I saw him split in two, he's been seen in two places at the same time." (Van has entered the room and hears this) He says, "Why are you not at your post." Dave snarls, "What happened to Jonny, did you kill him." Van answers, "We are now in outer space with one man dead, and I can't afford to loose another by confining you to quarters, so I'm giving you another chance, we'll say no more about your accusation, but I warn you, get out of line just once more and I'll take the necessary measures, I'll remind you, I'm the Captain of this ship and Astro-planetry log gives me supreme and unquestioned command, do I make myself clear." Dave says, "Yes!" and leaves. Cybill remarks, "Van please forgive him, we've all been under a great strain." Van replies, "there's no room for personal feelings on this mission, for his sake he'd better straighten himself out."

Sci-fier savour this outer space 'Shot' of the satellite passing over the Earth, great close-up work, inside John's funeral takes place. Van and a few other crew men stand alongside Van, Jonny's body is wrapped in plastic. Van speaks, "this is a sad thing we must perform, to say good-bye to a brave and beloved crewman, we must think of him as one who gave his life in a noble endeavour, the salvation of the human race. Dave and the Doctor enter a private room, the Dr says, "I feel it's all my fault, I never should have 'checked' the kid out." Dave replies, "You said there is nothing physically wrong with him." Doctor answers, "that's the curious thing, I was extra cautious, I double checked every test, there's just no reason he should have died from the same acceleration we all took, his training record was better than most." Dave replies, "He was murdered." "Murdered," repeats the doctor. Dave says, "Jonny knew something dangerous, something he shouldn't have known, and he was killed for it." Van commends John's body to the depths of space. John's body is dropped into a hatch in the floor. Some remarkable 'shots' as John's body is jettisoned into space. Dave says to the doctor, "Haven't you noticed Van's face there's something different about it, I can show you what I mean." Dave puts his employee identity card on the table and holds a small mirror across his I.D. photo, the Dr says, "Well that means nothing Dave everybody's face is slightly asymmetrical." Dave says, "Yes! but not Van's, I've been watching it, here's something else," the Dr gets a magnifying glass, Cybill enters the room, "I'd like you to see this Cybill." says Dave. Cybill replies, "Dave! you're disobeying orders." Dave answers, "Orders from Van, don't you realize he's trying to destroy us all." Dave inspects a card with Van's fingerprints on it and says, "they're identical, mirror images." Cybill asks, "What does that mean." Dave says, "What I've been trying to tell you, it's not Van, it's true I saw Van's car it was burnt to a crisp, all but the license plates, I checked those out, Van died in that car, this man is a substitute, a copy of the real Van." Cybill says, "You don't expect me to believe that fantastic nonsense." Dave replies, "Is it fantastic, that there's intelligence out there, that stops at nothing to keep us quarantined on our own planet, is the SIGMA barrier fantastic, they've destroyed every ship we've sent up, and now through him they mean to destroy this one, could those prints lie." The Dr speaks, "You know ever since his accident, Van has always given me an excuse to stop me from giving him a routine check up, I haven't even checked his heart." Dave says, "It's quite possible he doesn't have one." the Doc replies, "Well I'll find out, and we'll know for sure." he leaves. Van is sitting at his instrument panel, the Doctor (Howard) enters and says, "Well it's time for you're check up, I have to check you're heart, it has to go on the report." Van replies, "I'm in perfect health and you know it." Howard answers, "You fellows read the instruments, it's up to me to read the human being." Suddenly a mysterious 'BLOB' appears on the screen in the control room, and Van is called to the control room urgent, Van says, "I guess we'll have to put it of Huh!." Howard says, "No! No! I'll wait." Van says, "All-right I'll be back as soon as I can." he leaves. Van enters the control room and is informed, "the dials are acting up!." Van says, "It could be cosmic 'DUST' keep you're eye on it, if it continues to build call me." he leaves and before he returns to a waiting Howard, he enters another room where he is alone. He stands rigidly to attention, puts his hands on his chest, takes a deep breath, and slowly we begin to hear a heartbeat, he exits the room and meets Cybill who says, "Captain!" Van says, "Do you have to be so formal." Cybill replies, "I'm sorry," Van says, "Well I'm a little hurt, I thought we knew each other better, I've been wanting to talk to you, about Us," Cybill replies, "Of course Captain, I'm in the middle of a computation." Van says, "Half an hour then," Cybill nods and leaves. Van returns to a waiting Howard and says, "All-right! Dr you wanted to listen to my heart, proceed, I have work to do." Howard 'dons' his stethoscope and listens to Van's heart, Van says, "You know, I might almost believe you, though I didn't have the heart." Howard answers, "everybody has a heart." Van replies, "The Boy Dave put you up to this I suppose, quite typical of the childish mind, I'm sorry Howard, but I have no more time to waste." Howard asks, "What do you mean?" Van replies, "your a man of science what would you do if a guinea pig got out of control and threatened to ruin one of your experiments." Van is forcing Howard to retreat backwards. "I don't understand," he says. Van says, "Jonny didn't understand either." Van puts his hand on Howard's chest, who says, "What's this!!" Suddenly Van clutches Howard by the throat, and begins to strangle him. Howard tries to free himself, but Van is to strong, Howard falls to the ground Dead. Van leaves the room and meets two crew members he says, "I'm issuing an order for the arrest of one of the crew, I've discovered that John Compo did not die of natural causes he was murdered, I want staff engineer Dave Boy brought to my quarters immediately, you can use force if necessary." The crew men say "Yes Sir! and go." Dave and Cybill are talking, Cybill says, "I just saw Van, he seems so strange, I don't know what to think any more, maybe you're right Dave." Dave speaks,"I know I'm right, I've got to stop him somehow, I'm going after Van, you go to the Doctor, I don't want you here alone." The crewmen enter and arrest Dave who asks, "What for!" A crewman pulls a Gun and says, "No Questions!, lets go." they take Dave at Gunpoint. Meanwhile Van has brought Howard's body back to the Space lock to dispose of him into outer space, Van makes ready the air lock to jettison Howard's body, back at the control room a crewman notices that the gauges are going 'higher than normal' they think they should call Van, but decide it's only cosmic dust interference. Cybill enters the air lock room and sees Van 'tipping' Howard's body into the jettison chamber, Van 'spots' her, Cybill runs away through the corridors, Van jettisons Howard's body and gives chase. Cybill goes into the Solar energy room, Van is outside and calls, "Cybill I just want to talk to you." He forces the door open and enters saying, "I just want to talk to you Cybill." Cybill moves backwards. Meanwhile Dave is being escorted at gunpoint by the crewmen who arrested him, he turns quickly and 'Chops' one, and knocks the other one 'Out' with a punch, he lifts the gun. Van is being very menacing towards Cybill, he says, "I had no choice, I couldn't permit him to endanger the ship, please listen to me." Cybill says, "Yes!," Van continues, "I'm human now Cybill, I need you." A voice on the intercom declares, "Captain the prisoner has escaped." Van orders, "Alert all Hands."

Back on earth Scientists are watching the progress of the satellite on their flat screen T.V. it has reached sector H9 and the 'barrier' is in sector H12. A scientist says, "They're heading for it." The reply is, "the barrier is forming where the satellite is bound to travel, but Van knows what he's doing, he'll avoid it." the answer is, "Lets hope so, at least this time, lets hope so. Back on the satellite Dave is making his way through the corridors, gun ready. A voice on the intercom says, "Seize the prisoner at all costs," Van tells Cybill, "I'm sorry, but there's no alternative." he tries to take hold of her, she moves away. Again a voice on the intercom says, "Astrogater to Captain!, Astrogater to Captain!." Van touches a little switch on his neck, which allows him to reply, "Captain speaking." The Astrogater says, "Magneto Nebula cloud Mass forming dead ahead." (We see this on the screen..brill!), "Alpha contraction is building to critical point, expect SIGMA barrier." Van says, " Cybill I...." the astrogaters voice is heard again, "Captain SIGMA barrier dead ahead, we're bearing down rapidly, awaiting orders, repeat awaiting orders." Van replies, "Remain on course." The Astrogaters say, "remain on course...whats the matter with old Iron pants," The co-Astrogater replies, "I don't know, but if he don't get out a ball, this 3 million dollar balloon is gonna go bust, not only that, we're in it." Van repeats, "Remain on course." Cybill watches Van, she sees him split into 2 beings (2 Vans) one of the Entity's leaves, the other Van says, "cybill I want you to understand..." Cybill cries, "You're not human, who are you, what are you." Van says, "What am I, why I'm human, it's because of you I'm human." The (split) Van makes his way through the corridors, Dave 'spots' him, (split) Van goes into the computer room and announces, "Captain to Astrogater, readings are approaching mass." the Astrogater says, "It's about time, Alpha 102, Beta 107, Gamma 208, Thermo 477, Radiation 862, mass in quantum 39 (love it) estimate collision course, collision estimate 5 minutes." (Split) Van says, "Activate Plan B." Dave enters the room, he points the Gun and says, "Reverse that order, you'll destroy the ship." (split) Van says, "Don't be a fool you can't hurt me with that." So Dave shoots him, Van looks at his hand, it's covered in blood. Back at (original) Van who is with Cybill, he looks at his hand, it's covered in blood also. The Astrogaters see the barrier dead ahead, they pull a switch which seems to slow the ship down. Dave is still pointing the gun at (split) Van saying, "You've gotta be stopped." Van throws some papers at Dave and attacks him, a fight ensues, the Astrogaters report, "Radiation up, Alpha Beta and Gamma up we're deaccelerating," his buddy says, "We're just following orders,ours is but to do or die." The fight continues between Dave and Van, Dave finds the Gun again and shoots Van 3 times, Van falls to the ground. (original) Van is about to strangle Cybill who cries, "Dave!," she faints, (original) Van falls to the ground also. Dave takes the communicator from (split) Van's neck and says, "Reverse last order, ditch Plan B, activate Plan A." the Astrogaters respond, "Activating Plan A." Dave continues, "Secure all hands prepare to Blast!," The Astrogaters reassure each other, "Now that's more like it," his co-operator replies, "Hang on boy, we 'aint out of the woods yet!" Dave leaves, and we see (split) Van slowly de-materialize, and the (original) Van who is on the floor with Cybill de-materializes also. The Astrogaters are under a lot of pressure, one says, "Start burning that sunlight," his buddy turns the 'solar energy accumulator' knob up, but unbeknowist to him, Cybill lies unconscious beside the solar accumulator, she is in great danger, as the accumulator burns of it's energy. Hallucinative strobing negitive images, tell us Cybill is about to die horribily.....Wait!!! Dave is rushing through the ships corridors, he stops at a monitor, and switches through different locations on the ship, untill he sees Cybill, Dave now knows where she is. An Astrogater announces, "all hands secure for Blast." Dave reaches the solar energy room, he Bursts in, lifts Cybill in his arms, and carries her to safety. The Astrogaters get ready for 'BLAST', Dave straps Cybill into her 'Blast couch', the countdown continues, 5-4-3-2-1, Dave and Cybill hold hands...BLAST!!!, spectacular astronomical animate takes over, visual entertainment at it's best, as the ship passes into the Barrier, (nail biting stuff) as we hear the sound of someone using an arc welder in the background.

On Earth a watching scientist says, "they've dissapered they're destroyed." another replies, "I'm not so sure Hodge, we can still hear the solar Blast, LOOK!!" the ship passes through the barrier unscathed. The scientists recieve a message from the ship, "SIGMA calling!! Sigma Calling!! do you want satellite control, do you read me." A scientist lifts the 'Mike' and says, "U.N.S.C. calling SIGMA we read you, we read you SIGMA!!!" Dave replies, "We are passing through Andromeda at the speed of light, we've made it!!!!, the whole Universe is our new frontier." Nothing is left to the Imagination as we 'Zoom-in' to the magnificence of the great spiral galaxy Andromada, the 'heart' flutters, as galaxy after galaxy passes by at light speed, along with Nebula and everything interstellar, (boy is this ship travelling), Impressive intergalatic special effects, (planets 'dangling' on string) 'Zip' past, an animated Earth appears, as the ship with it's heroic crew hurtle towards it homeward, the music is 'obbligato' heart stoppingly exciting, Yes! it's over folks!!..Wow!!..What a picture!!

Finally, I would like to give a big 'Thank you' to everyone involved in the making of this Masterpiece, script writers, character actors and performers, production team, musicians and composers, designers, animators, artists, inventors, camera men, labourers, tea boy, sweepers...ect, I feel I'm Indepted to you.

Sleep well tonight Sci-Fier...Cheers! RAB.

Some religion salesmen were handing these out at Lexington Market here in Baltimore a few months after the attacks.

 

The weird thing for me is that this was pretty much the view I had from my boss' office in NYC that day.

    

Seeing the Second Plane Hit:

 

I’d tried to vote in the primary election that morning. I can’t remember if it was mayoral or something else. They couldn’t find my name at the polling place even though I’d received the little yellow card in the mail with that address on it. I was steamed; I went straight to work and up to my cubicle and called the election board to complain, ending my cranky voice-mail message with, “What is this, Florida!?!”

 

It was probably around 7:30 now, and I went back downstairs and outside for my morning glazed donut, diet soda (never really been a hot caffeine person), and cigarette breakfast (ahh, how I miss them still) near the water at the South Street Seaport. In the three months since I’d started at Prudential, it was always calming for me to start the mornings this way, getting to see the sun's gleam on the water, the sightseeing boaters preparing for their day, and the seafood houses already in the middle of theirs.

 

At 8:00 I went up to officially start my work day, checking emails and voicemails, taking care of a few things that had come over the department fax late from the night before. It was a while later that a manager, John, another early starter, came out of his office and said, “Come see this. The World Trade Center is on fire.”

 

It’s hard to say how many city blocks we were from the Towers. The streets at the south end of Manhattan wind so much; my best guess is that our building, 1 NY Plaza was about a mile away. In that building, our department was on the 35th floor. So, when I walked into John’s office, facing the towers, what I saw was surreal; there were flames for sure (no sign of the plane), but what I remember most was the endless stream of paper raining down outside from the upper floors, not yet touching the streets which meant whatever had happened must have just.

 

Though John was the first to see the flames, he hadn't seen the cause, and, as other coworkers started arriving, we all started speculating, with one of those weather/traffic copters getting the most votes. Nobody mentioned terrorism.

 

I called my roommate who at this time was working as a receptionist at my old company (a job I’d had a few years back) and told him the news. "The World Trade Center is on fire," I said.

 

“What,” he said.

 

“The World Trade Center is on fire.”

 

“What?”

 

“The. World. Trade. Center. Is. On. Fire.”

 

“Stop saying that!”

 

“Well, stop saying ‘what,’ then,” I said.

 

When he was finally convinced that I was not joking we speculated more.

“Well, how many times have we seen those little planes coming down over the skyline, coming so close,” he said, “it was bound to happen eventually.”

 

“Oh, geez the subway’s gonna be a mess. Ya think they’ll let us out early?” Yes, friends, I actually said that, and, no, I am not in the least proud of it. My only defenses are that I certainly was not thinking about death and suffering at the time and that I’d lived through the other attack on the WTC, the one in 1993, which, in my world lacked catastrophic devastation. We had a cousin who broke a foot in that one, but that was it.

 

“Yeah, I think they’ll probably let you out early,” he said, and I hung up, promising to fill him in on any other news.

 

By the time I made a quick call to family in Baltimore to let them know that they might hear something about the Trade Center on the news but that I was safe, my boss had come in and she said that, sure, I could watch things from her office while she went to get coffee. She had a great office with a great view, window covering an entire wall, and I just watched. Watched a building burn in an otherwise picture perfect blue sky. Watched the endless confetti cascading down like what I’d pictured from the old ticker-tape parades. Watched a few white fluffy clouds, seemingly oblivious in the distance.

 

Watched as yet another plane came zooming across the skyline.

 

This is where it gets hard to keep writing. Seeing the second plane hit…Remembering seeing the second plane hit still gives me a jolt to the spine. Seeing the second plane hit admits there might just be “evil” in the world, because seeing the second plane hit meant the first could not have been an accident. Seeing the second plane hit meant, temporarily at least, knowing there was a before and an after to that moment. Example: "the last time I laughed so hard I cried before 9/11 was during an old SCTV rerun two nights earlier where Andrea Martin was sending up a vintage Connie Francis album commercial. She sang, ‘I’ve lost my hearing and sight in one eye’ and 'I'm so unhappy are you unhappy too' as an announcer boasted, 'She depressed an entire generation.' That there was some funny shit, and I could use that laughter now, after."

 

For days after, seeing the second plane hit replayed constantly in my mind, not even making it to my subconscious until months later, really, when I was miles away, back in Baltimore. It was then that I finally had a nightmare about it, stolen, ironically from the opening to that old “Airplane” movie comedy. Instead of the tail of the plane moving through the clouds, however, in my dream, it was an entire big shiny plane heading toward the second tower in the big blue sky, but still to the "Jaws" theme, of course. In the dream, and in my memories since, I’ve wanted to be able to just reach through my boss’ office window and pluck the plane from the air, as if it were a toy one. But, well….

 

So the second plane hits with an explosion that I see but don’t hear through the thick layers of skyscraper window glass; I’m hearing coworkers in other offices scream instead.

 

“Gotta go,” I say, as my boss comes back with her coffee, and I do, right past my cube, saying nothing to anyone else, not bothering to log off and turn off my computer, bee-lining straight to the elevator before someone has the chance to tell me I can’t use it. Not too proud of that instinct to flee, either, but there it is. I’m guessing that the two other elevator passengers must have also seen the plane hit. She was shaking and crying and every time the elevator stopped on a floor, he ran out quickly to see if someone was really waiting and hurriedly returned, pressing the “door close” button as fast as he could. Down and out we scurried where we would mill about while the rest of the people in the building filtered down, indeed by the stairs. Madeleine, who was no fan of aerobic excercise at the time, was not thrilled with the walk, and Pam, upon coming outside asked if it was o.k. to smoke.

 

I said, “They just blew up the World Trade Center, Pam. Of course you can smoke!” And she and I probably smoked five or six cigarettes in a row waiting for word that we could go home. What was concerning me, in my paranoid state, was that, with the second plane coming roughly twenty minutes after the first, we could be due for another soon, and I just wanted out of there. Finally, we were given the o.k. to leave, and by this time we knew we were walking.

 

On the way, I found out about the Pentagon being attacked too and freaked again, (in a slightly jaded way this time), because I had family working in that area. Phones, however, were not an option as cells couldn’t get a signal, and the few pay phones one could find had lines at least twenty people deep. So, I just walked, and again I have to say, “surreal.” Surreal to see so many pedestrians, even as crowded as New York usually was. Surreal to see so many cars just abandoned. Surreal to see armed military personnel on the streets of Manhattan. Surreal to see a basketball game and rope-skipping at a schoolyard as if nothing had just happened blocks away.

 

And jarring to hear but not see, what one hoped, were our fighter planes overhead.

 

Taking a meandering journey through Chinatown I finally made my way to my roommate’s workplace where all hell was breaking loose. One of his company’s clients was American Express which had its offices very close to the WTC. Once the towers had collapsed (luckily I didn’t have to see that), the structure of the AmEx office building was also in question, and my roommate was frantically trying to find out if any of his coworkers were there for meetings. Still in a daze I stayed and helped him a little; but then I just went home, or rather, to my little neighborhood dive bar where others were already sobbing. Just didn’t want to be alone at that point.

 

The next days and nights are blurs what with all of the self-medicating and constant news-watching - how truly awful it was to see those that chose to jump.

 

Our offices and so many others downtown had to remain closed while soot and debris were removed. The burnt rubber smell, however, traveled uptown and lingered for a week. Flowers were everywhere and the posters of the missing went up and multiplied. With Manhattan in virtual lockdown, and because we had a police precinct (potential terrorist target it seems) on our block, we had to show i.d. and proof that we lived on our street before being let on. The Friday after, my roommate and I went to 1984, a retro club, to try and dance some of the depression away, but, rightly so, out of respect, it did not open.

 

This story ends slightly comically with the HR-sponsored grief session our company held the next Tuesday, when we were first allowed back to work. The first thing the counselors asked was, “how many of you saw either plane hit or either building collapse?” Everyone raised his hand and the counselors looked at each other as if they were in trouble.

 

Later, they warned against self-medication, “You want to stay away from alcohol, caffeine, nicotine and any illicit substances.” This got the biggest laugh because with a week off, paid no less, and with what we had seen stuck in our minds, all quite a few of us had done was self-medicate, one way or another.

 

Finally, just as the counselors were about to offer helpful suggestions on how to deal with the stress of the events, someone knocked on the door. Unfortunately, the entire building had to be evacuated due to a fire in the cafeteria. And poor Madeleine had to walk down those flights of stairs again.

 

And the cold I had became the flu.

 

Though her office wasn’t near the site - I checked later - I still think about that election worker and the nasty voice-mail message I left for her comparing New York to Florida. How wrong I was about that and how not-so great to know that it was either one of the last things she heard before, or one of the first things she heard after, her 9/11.

   

  

Aranea Cullen: Randulf makes his way inside the church, his head tilting from one occupant to the other. He remains silent, standing off to the side.

 

River Grau 's ears flattened. Perhaps he was a little jealous that Jaina was talking to the older girl and not him. "Yeah, bestest friend. Still not a good bodygaurd if I ain't able to know who is gonna hurt yah." He hadn't noticed Randulf yet.

 

River Grau tilts his head up to look at D and follows his gaze to Randulf. Mood brightening, he waved to the man and scurried foward. "Mister Ranulf, didja talk to Momma yet? Are you my Dadd-- Err Father yet?" Father sounded less girly. And despite his near-skip to the man, he was trying to learn man t hings.

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs at River. "S'just a bad place. Conors knows." She watches him run off to Randulf and grins, offering the dark man a wave before turning to Luci. "He swore an oaf."

 

Aranea Cullen: The cowel flicks as he hears the little one's words to eachother. Slowly he would begin coming forward. His head erodes in the direction of the nun before turning to glance at the little ones in attendance. He waved to the boy and opened an arm as if to welcome him into a hug. "No I have not yet gotten a chance to speak to your mother. I have left numerous messages for her to phone me back when she is free...however.... we've yet to speak... and I'm gettting to the point of not caring."

 

River Grau paused, his ears flicking at the words 'not caring'. Biting his lip lightly, he drooped his head foward as he begame to sulk. "Not carin'..? Oh, I understand if you dun' wanna be my father. I ain't a very good person to be a father to an' I get in trouble with fights. An' they gotta make saftey lessons 'cause of me."

 

Darkness Odigaunt watches Piper with River. There's still obvious distrust in her eyes, whatever had happened to make everyone else trust him, she'd been left out of. Slowly she looks to Gemma, "Did I? Oh... Here, do you want clay, pencils, crayons...?"

 

River Grau might actually be the only person that really trust him.. but that wouldn't make D feel any better...

 

Aranea Cullen: He would slowly lower to the boy and move a massive black hand upwards to try and lightly bop at the boys nose with a finger. "I meant, my son... Not caring whether or not she has a problem with my being your father.. " He then would attempt to wrangle the boy close to him in an attempt to give him a knoogie, being careful of course of the spikes.

 

River Grau 's eyes brighten as he is bopped on the nose and gave a small laugh. "Oh, I dun' care either then 'cause I say you're my Daddy, err Father!" Flailing his arms around as he is knoogied, "Aaaahhh." He was carefully avoided the spikes, knowing how sharp they were.

 

Aranea Cullen: He lets out a hearty chuckle at the boy, moving to release him. "I care not what you call me river. " his hand would move to ruffle the boy's hair, before his head tilts. "What's this about fighting?"

 

Jaina Lefevre pauses near River. "You gots a Daddy now?" she 'whispers'

 

River Grau plops down on the ground as he is let go, small arms trying to hug around Randulf's leg. "Okay, just dunnoi f yah wanna look all tough an' Daddy ain't a tough word. " he shrugged, "Dunno. They was fightin' 'bout how somebodies Mama and Daddy was gonna squish the eyes of that Luci girl." Head turning to Jaina, he nods and grins. "Yup1'

 

Aranea Cullen: He glances down as River latches onto his leg. He shifts his boot so it is like a seat, which considering his large feet almost is. And begins slowly to pace back and forth, lifting and walking with the boy. "And what did the little Lady do? that deserves eyes squished?" He glances up to Jaina. "Evening Jaina" He goes back to watchin' his boy.

 

River Grau eyed Niyol as he entered the church, arm's hugging Randulf's leg tighter as he was a little nervous about te boy because ofthe other day. "I told Auntie Saki she was my Auntie.. Two days ago." He was a little excited. He never had a father before. "Called her Daddy a nun-biter."

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at Randulf. "Bye Mister Randulf" She looks at RIver and gives him a smile. "Good. I'm glads. I gotta go. Bye." She flicks a glance at Guin as she passes, then to Niklaus, slowing as she sees him just standing. Her feet scuff and she watches him until she's all the way past.

 

River Grau waves to Jaina,"Bye Jaina. I promise to be a better body guards."

 

Aranea Cullen: His head quirks as River remarks about being a bodyguard. "What's this about being a bodyguard?" he glances between Jaina and River.

  

Debra Charron wanders up and stops by the column, smiling at Jania

 

River Grau tilts his head faaaaar back to look up at Randulf. "I am Jaina's bodyguard. An' I protect her, like the lion neko protects Miss Portia. "

 

Debra Charron bends down and scoops up the charging munchkin and tickles her mercilessly. "Hello Starfish! i missed you !!! Did you learn anything interesting at School?"

 

Jaina Lefevre wraps her arms around Deb's neck and hugs tight." It's been forever! That Beast place makes you work too much." She kisses her cheek and then nods. "Uh huh. Gemma's mom eats eyeballs but they got runnies in them not bloods and there's a boy that's a prince putty-tat and he's a booger-face and he said he's got a file on me and everyone wants to beat up Rivers and we talked about places you can't go."

 

River Grau tugged lightly on the bottom of his father's cloak. "Yesterday I got in a fight with two kids, but they attacked me. An' now I keep gettin' in trouble 'cause I defended myself an' hurt 'em more than they hurt me. So now the church is teachin' me I ain't supposed to fight at all. But I gotta.. to protect myself."

 

Aranea Cullen: His tail would peek from below the dark fabric, the black and grey canine-like appendage begins wagging at the news. "So my son figures himself a guardian." His tail wags more as a hand moves to ruffle the kid's hair. "I am pleased but remember m'boy.... a good guardian knows that they are only but one man and cannot be there every moment of every day.... However, when they are there.... they are loyal trusting and true to their charge."

 

Debra Charron smiles at Jania as her brain translated five-year-old into Standard and she hoists her up higher on her hip. Deb gives Jania's chin one last tickle and inquires; "Now who'd wanna hurt River sweetie?" Deb looks about for Jania's friend.

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs. "All the mean kitty kids." She points to Randulf. "That's RIvers' new Daddy.Mister Randulf. He swore an oaf."

 

Aranea Cullen: He nods slowly." Fight only when absolutely necessary m'boy. You can do alot more with words." He would slowly move to detach the boy from him, so that Randulf could bend a knee to the boy. "And if you have to fight, try and make sure that it is a fight you fought with honour and purpose." He tilts hishead at his boy, but is uncertain whether his words of wisdom would stick.He hears his name ad looks up to the girl and the woman sheis beside, his tail flicks

 

River Grau grins and nods, "Uh-huh. When I grow up, I am gonna be a bodygaurd or somethin' that defends people. Dunno what else I can be, but I dun' wanna be one of them uniformed men. They only pretend defend people." An ear flicked as he heard Debra. "You probably wanna hurt me cause I tried to poison yah, like the hammer-man Rein wants to hurt me." He gets shooed away from clinging to Randulf's leg. "Okay, I will Daddy."

 

Jaina Lefevre 'whispers' to Deb. "Mommy, Luci said that you're s'posed to stick your tongue in a mouth when you kiss. Is that true?" She glances at Nik again and then 'whispers' "He's watchin' us. Is that okay?"

 

Debra Charron shrugs at River's statement - figuring the best revenge on people who tried to kill her was still being here after the effort failed. She glances at Jania and chuckles "Well, the tongue thing is for grownups when we're being especially gross. So far as the guy watcing us..........do I need to ask him why? Politely?"

 

Jaina Lefevre nods a little, then shakes her head as the guy starts to walk away. "Guess nots. Maybe he wants to be a Daddy and was pickin' out a kid." She leans her forehead against Deb's shoulder. "Don't need a busy p'tend Daddy. I got two Mommies."

 

Debra Charron chuckles and hugs Jania a little tighter. "And your mommies are VERY glad to have you. You wanna go visit Deets for a few minutes sweetie? I've missed both of you something awful while I was back at the home office. Next time I go there, i'm taking you with me so I can show you all the neat places I used to go when i was younger"

 

Aranea Cullen: He would begin to stand and move towards Debra, extending a massive hand as if to shake. "Greetings. My name is Randulf.... Seems m'boy and ya little one are friends." He'd glance down to his boy when River mentioned Rein wanted to hurt him. "I"ll square things with Rein so you don't have to worry about him. He and I go... way back."

 

Jaina Lefevre nods a little. "Okay." She pauses and grins up at Mister Randulf. "Hi. This is my Mommy." She gets down so Deb can shake hands.

 

River Grau didn't seem too worried about it since he has learned where to go so not to confront the hammer-man. "'kay. He *really* hates me though an' I ain't ever see him hate another kid. He says it's my fault the police mens almost killed him. 'Cause I told on him." Looking over to Debra, he waved slightly. "I'm Jaina's body guard."

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head no at the offer of cookies and tucks her face into Deb's side. She peeks out at Randulf and River, watching.

 

Debra Charron nods and extends a cautious hand, her eyes closely tracking the cloaked figure. "Deb Charron. River's a pretty dynamic kid.." Deb grins, "...but then I suppose they have to be to survive here. I'm glad he and Jania hit it off"

 

River Grau watched the nun, checking to see if she would go near Randulf since he knew how much she distrusted him. "Can I have a cookie, Sister D?" Blinking at Debra, "What's dynamic mean? Does it mean 'bad'?"

 

Aranea Cullen: His hand would try and curve around hers to try and bring it to his metal mask covered lips in a show of gentlemanship. "I hope they get along better than we have in the past, dear lady Debra." He would then move to pull away and looks down to River. "being Dynamic m'boy is not a fault, but in the right use, can be a great aid to you in later years. " He would glance back up to Debra.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks from Deb to Randulf and then to River. "He swore an oaf, Mommy. He can't hurt me or River or Conor or Chan until after we're eighteen, even if we hurt him first, and he wont' hurted us after eighteen unless we hurts him."

 

River Grau gave a small huff as he heard Sister D. "Yah say that as if I fight a lot an' you only seen me fight *twice* an' that was always after I was attacked first." The real question would be, what was the boy doing to continously get attacked by other children in a church? He waited until D was done before taking a cookie. Head turning, he watched his father and Debra interact.

 

River Grau picks out a cookie, "Thank you, Sister D."

 

Debra Charron's muscles tense and her eyes immediately frost over, but her tone and facial expression remains measured-neutral. "I generally get along well with most people unless its made my business not to, especially in this house. " Deb glances from the cloaked figure tot he child, " I'm glad River has someone. Jania does a pretty good job of choosing her friends - so I'm sure he'll flourish." Deb permits her hand to be taken, "The great redeeming thing about children is that the forget and forgive ever so much faster than adults. Its an admirable trait and I'm hoping Jania will rub off on me that way."

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head at the cookie offer. She was still feeling a little 'off'. "No thank you, Sister D." She glances up at Deb, then at Randulf. "It's an oaf, Mommy. It's okay." She leans in, fingers hooking lightly in Deb's belt.

 

Aranea Cullen: "I hope so as well, as I hold no ill towards you and yours. I have a son now to look after cannot afford disgruntlements of the past and I hope you understand that as well with a child of your own. I live a new life, perhaps in this one, we can forget and start over?" His head would tilt, as he shifts to show Penumbra at his hip, if she had any doubt of who he was.

 

River Grau chews on the cookie, head bobbing at Jaina's words. "Is your Mommy scared that my Daddy's gonna hurt you? He's nice to kids. 'Cause he cried when he acccidently hurt Conor an' apologized but Conor ain't forgive him, I still dun' talk to that stupid head." Perhaps some children forgive easily, but not him.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks over to River. "Dunno. Mommy's not scared. She's got tac-nukes." She nods sagely, and glances up at Deb.

 

Debra Charron lays her arm across Jania's shoulders and strokes her hair. She glances back towards Aranea and smiles thinly, her eyes glittering with some kind of deep emotion. "Generally, I confine my hostilities to my profession. The food needs to get to Midian, Oceanic delivers it and I make sure that no one stops Oceanic. Personal vendettas are bad for business and my job here rather defines everything else." Deb hugs Jania, "Its a discipline I try to maintan unless circumstances dictate otherwise. I've got more positive things in my life than revenge at this point. I'm content with things as they are"

 

River Grau scratches his ear, not understanding all this adult-talk. "Who's makin' it so food an' stuff ain't get to Midian? That dun' sound real nice 'cause people need food."

 

Jaina Lefevre leans into Deb and whispers. "I got scared t'night and Luci hugged me. She's a nice bigger kid." She glances back at River and Randulf and then yawns softly.

 

Aranea Cullen: He nods slowly to her. "Indeed, but if you do feel the need for revenge still. I will not retaliate, so long as I am left alive and able to heal well enough to take care of River. I want slates clean, even if it is seemingly ... impossible as I will not have my past and my actions hinder his future. " He would hand over a card to her. "Especially if he and your little one are friends. Call."

 

River Grau looks over his shoulder at the nun, wishing she was paying attention to the things Randulf was saying. Rising on his tiptoes, he tries to whisper to the man but he was just so much taller.. So his whisper was a little too loud. "Sister D is scared you're gonna be a bad Daddy 'cause you did somethin' that upset her real bad. I said you're a good Daddy but I think she's still scared. "

 

Debra Charron snuggles Jania close and smiles "I'm glad you make friends so well Starfish, maybe you can teach me that...and we don't have any Tacnukes....thats for the World Union and UAC....we just have some very good soldiers." Deb kisses Jania on the forehead and looks at River; "Well, Midian is a long way from the farms that make the food -so it has to get shipped here and there are lotsa pirates out on the ocean who want whas in our ships. My folks protect the ships and the warehouses here in Midian, so the food can get to Sari Mart and other places. We being other stuff than food too, medicine and books and games....but about 80% of the food that comes here comes in our ships and we try real hard to make sure nobody misses a meal 'cause we didn't do our jobs" Deb looks up at Aranea, "Its not like the World Union tries real hard to feed the Freetowns." Deb pauses and adds, "I'd as soon leave the past in the past. I feel good about my life now, and its best if I keep it that way"

 

Aranea Cullen: "Very well." He would keep the card aloft however, as he tilts his head down to River. "As I told you river.... I scare alot of people. The nun simply caught me on a bad night."

  

Jaina Lefevre mumbles. "We need nukes. They is good for scarin'." She closes her eyes and leans into Deb more. "Almost done with my book. Need th'one for J through L..." She's tired. It's been a long couple of days, and now Mommy's here so everything's safe.

 

Debra Charron accepts the card, placing it in her belt-pouch and extracting one of her own and extending it in exchange, "In case you ever need to contact me, I can always be reached by calling that number so long as the fellow at the duty-desk has had coffee"

 

River Grau nodded, a bit saddened. "Oh, well I dun think you're scary." And just to prove his point, he would try to hug Randulf's leg since that was all he could reach.

 

Aranea Cullen: He accepts the card , looks at it and files it away before realizing River has latched to his leg again. He lowers a hand and gently ruffles the boy's hair. "Its alright River. Thanks for the hug, little one."

 

Unfortunately, I crashed before I could save a good deal of this. This is what Pet was able to send to me because she crashed too. What happened before this: Pet approached Colette and asked her in a hush-hush way if she'd ever killed anyone. Then Pet started asking about The Shadow Stalkers, Colette said she'd been in it, and Pet asked how she got in. Now, read on...

 

[0:07] Colette Loon was grinning like mad, being very amused. What a funny woman. "I got in because I was... very good friends with one of them. Still am. Maybe I can talk to him about getting you in." She itched her neck and continued. "There's not much I can teach you except not to care about your plaything. If you start doing that, well, you'll be a little bitch about it. I'll help you out. You remind me of my little sister a bit, but less snobby. Her name was Clair. Never mind about her though."

 

[0:11] Pet Fiertze was beaming, entirely pleased. "Oh, would you really? Would... YOU ever go back to them? With me? Are they mean to their own? I always wondered if they're people I see walking the streets, every day." She was rambling, unable to contain her excitement. This woman was being so perfectly good to her, exactly what she'd been needing ever since these anti-goodytwoshoes desires started to rouse.

 

[0:17] Colette Loon uncrossed her arms and placed one hand on her hip. "I said yes, didn't I? Yep. As for the Shadows, I don't know if I can go back. You know the Marines? I'm about to join I think. My buddy is a Marine. I just gave him my application. I get free guns, food, shelter, and I get to bully people. It's gonna be great. I don't think I can go back to the Shadows at all." she paused, taking a breath. "They are the people walking the streets sometimes. But mostly, we... they... stick to the... well, shadows. The alleys, the catwalks at times, if those damned cats aren't around. I can do it openly. I stabbed Auntie and the MPD was only looking for me for a few hours. I just... I don't know about them. I'll help you out, Petty Pet Pet."

 

[0:23] Pet Fiertze smiled sheepishly, cheeks pinkening mildly at her own zealousness. She didn't mean to come across too strong. "That is so very nice of you. Thank you," She mewed wistfully, brow knitting as she contemplated the woman's words. "Yes, those stupid cat people act like it's their property. You can just... Get away with it, being a Marine? I thought they were good people," Pet mused naively. "Will you play with me, sometimes? I come up with creative things to do to people, and I want to so bad sometimes. It keeps me awake."

 

[0:25] Colette Loon smiled again. "Yes, I am being pretty nice, aren't I? Isn't that strange? And no, probably not. I'm not a Marine yet. People will hold grudges, so you gotta be sneaky." She grinned wider. "Of *course*, I will play with you."

 

[0:30] Pet Fiertze near-swooned, overcome, and threw her arms melodramatically around Colette. "It is so weird for people to be nice, here. 'Specially the killers." She mumbled, nuzzling a bit contently into the woman's bosom, if not instantly rejected, and then withdrew from the mini bear hug. She was absolutely thrilled about the prospective partner in crime.

 

[0:32] Colette Loon was taken back. Man, she sure hadn't been hugged in a while. Anyone else would have probably been tossed off or stabbed, but this one reminded her of her sister. She humored her and hugged her back a bit awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah. You're like a damn puppy dog, y'know that? I'll turn you into a blood lusting wolf, if you'd like."

 

[0:36] Pet Fiertze blinkblinked, eyes asparkle. "I want to be able to be that, but I want to be me too! At the same time. I'm not like a puppy dog, though. I was thinking the other day, the streets were so crowded. It would be funny to skip along the awnings, dumping mustard gas down there. Or to have a friend on the other side, with a huge bucket of ammonia! And then one with bleach. And then toss them at the same time, down onto the crowd. For fun, you know?" She had many of said ideas running around in her head, and they wanted out. Finding someone with whom she could relate, to Pet, was like finding a damn-near soulmate.

 

[0:40] Colette Loon felt it appropriate to pull out her switchblade and open it. She ran a gloved finger along the shiny blade. "See this? This is my baby. Think of me as Van Gogh and this... my paintbrush... and someone's flesh... the *canvas*. I love knives. Do you like knives. I just adore them."

 

[0:45] Pet Fiertze canted her head at the woman after paying proper observation and reverence to 'her baby', lips twitching in semi-psychotic pleasure. "I like knives. And scalpels... Before Midian, I was one of the youngest neurosurgeons. I just wanted to help people then, but now... I think things like, wouldn't it be fun to experiment? Damage someone's medulla oblongata just right, so that they lose the ability to cough? They'd die far down the road when they had pneumonia or were choking, and it would be a mystery. All sorts of stuff like that." She sighed contently, tongue darting out over her lips. "Do you like to be meticulous, or brutalize people?"

 

[0:50] Colette Loon got a bit excited when asked about how she liked to go about her 'art.' She rubbed her fingers along the blade more, feeling the smooth surface. "Well, if I can, I like to take it slow, make them writhe around and watch their reactions. But if I can't, I *will* hurt them. It may be a bit sloppy, but it's all I can do at the time. But I'm careful about picking who I put the blade on."

 

[0:57] Pet Fiertze nodded vigorously, listening with intense interest. It was a hobby, as she was studying it, as though the whole thing were as innocent as Chess tactics. "Yes! I think it's better to capture someone, and take them somewhere to enjoy it all. And yet, I still would like to run down the streets, hurt people, and make an escape." Pet nodded sagaciously, top teeth clamping down on lower lip as she pondered. "I would feel stupid if ever I set my sights on a victim, and he or she overpowered me. Has that ever happened to you? I think I'm real competent, though."

 

[1:00] Colette Loon sighs a bit and takes her mask off again. She pointed to the scar on her face. "This... ugh. Okay, well, I wasn't trying to hurt him, but I was overly confident and he was on my tail anyway and basically, I got my ass kicked. That's when I learned to judge who I pick, sometimes even watch them. If you pick someone that's stronger than you or you underestimate them, far worse can happen than what happened to my face."

 

[1:03] Pet Fiertze sighed a bit dejectedly. "Well then that's why we have eachother from now on," She mewed forlornly, and a bit presumptuously, but she always thought the life of a hobby such that they shared was bound to be a lonely one. For it not to be, was thrilling. "My Godfather, Lucien, he thinks I'm going to fail in these endeavors. I can't wait to prove him wrong. The person who did that to you, is he still around? You should get revenge, one day."

 

[1:07] Colette Loon sighs and shook her head. "I don't think so. Lucky bastard is probably far away now. I never told you that I hate this place. I really do. I can't get out. Even if I could, I probably wouldn't leave. I've lived here too long and I've been molded into something else. This city twists people, it really does. Someday, you'll probably end up like me. I used to be like you."

 

[1:12] Pet Fiertze stretched up high, arms above head, squeaking indulgently as she did so. "I understand. It had been good for me in many ways, though. I'm learning stuff about myself. Did you know, I didn't even know what actually goes down during sex before I came here? And now, well. I still haven't had experience, but at least I know. You know, from my point of view, it'd be pretty darn cool to be like you." Pet intoned reverently.

 

[1:16] Colette Loon actually laughed quite a bit at her last statement. "Oh, you really are a little puppy, aren't you? You don't want to be like me, do you? I mean, you don't know me at all yet. I could get you alone and murder you. I don't think I will though. We are too similar. Just don't trust me *too* much because I won't trust you too much. Understand?" She slipped her mask back on.

 

[1:20] Pet Fiertze downcast her gaze, cheeks pinkening at the semi-rejection. "You seem so competent and savvy, though. But you're right. I need to trust you lots though, you know? In time. And maybe... Maybe you'll trust me like that, too." She concluded both wistfully and hopefully. "Am I keeping you?" She'd inquire hastily, forgetting her manners.

 

[1:26] Colette Loon felt somewhat bad for making the girl so down... which was weird. "Don't be upset. I trust you enough to do fun shit with you, right? Yes. That's all that matters though." She popped her jaw and smiled a bit. "Do I look like someone that needs to be somewhere? Or like I have a lot of friends? Ha, no. Not at all. You're fine, rookie."

 

[1:32] Pet Fiertze brightened mildly, rocking back and forth again, hands clasped behind her back. "Well, fair enough!" She snapped her fingers in revelation. "Do you use a cell phone? Because we need a way to contact eachother. Plus, if you're ever outnumbered or something, you can call me and the other way around." Pet fumbled around in her bag, victorious in retrieving a pen and notebook, which rather strangely had kittens on it. Little hand scribbled away, and she ripped the small bit out, phone number offered.

 

[1:34] Colette Loon took the number and put it in the pouch on her belt. "Yeah, I do. Want me to write it down?" she asked, crossing her arms. She didn't really know why she was being so nice to this girl. It was probably Pet's morbid curiousity that saved her ass from Colette's wrath. She was lucky indeed.

 

[1:32] Pet Fiertze brightened mildly, rocking back and forth again, hands clasped behind her back. "Well, fair enough!" She snapped her fingers in revelation. "Do you use a cell phone? Because we need a way to contact eachother. Plus, if you're ever outnumbered or something, you can call me and the other way around." Pet fumbled around in her bag, victorious in retrieving a pen and notebook, which rather strangely had kittens on it. Little hand scribbled away, and she ripped the small bit out, phone number offered.

 

[1:34] Colette Loon took the number and put it in the pouch on her belt. "Yeah, I do. Want me to write it down?" she asked, crossing her arms. She didn't really know why she was being so nice to this girl. It was probably Pet's morbid curiousity that saved her ass from Colette's wrath. She was lucky indeed.

 

[1:40] Pet Fiertze mmhmed, thrusting the pen and paper generously over. She'd been in enough tight spots, and for a companion to show up and basically even the score would be most appreciated. "I'd like that. Bullies need to be taught a lessen," she intoned, nodding sagely. 'Game on bitches', Pet mused whilst brain sifted through her various fantasies.

 

[1:41] Colette Loon laughed a bit, jotting her number down. She handed the pad back her. "Y'know, we are bullies, technically. We really are. Are you okay with that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side a bit.

 

[1:45] Pet Fiertze grinned impishly, that enthrallment running rampant again. "Yes! Oh, to give back to the city as it has so generously dished out. We are cool bullies." Well, perhaps the word for Pet wouldn't be 'cool', but she was having some serious girl-power go-get-'em emotions at the moment. "Where do you like to sleep?"

 

[1:47] Colette Loon laughed again a bit at Pet. She seemed so young. "Where do I like to sleep? Hm... where I can. There's a shelter, but I'm not a little pussybitch. I don't know, I just don't like it there. Plus, I stabbed Auntie, the woman who runs it." She paused, thinking for a moment. "How old are you?"

 

[1:52] Pet Fiertze agreed wholeheartedly, and found it rather amusing that Colette had stabbed Auntie. If Auntie were a Shadow, her disguise would be as the Cookie Monster. "I like to sleep in Apocalypse. It's nice, and I got on Chi's good side, I think... Did she scream when you stabbed her, and writhe?" Pet inquired, idle chat and all that. "I'm nearly twenty-one. What about you? I hope you still respect me... I know I come across as naive."

 

[1:55] Colette Loon uncrossed her arms and sighed. "Chisaki? That little kitty. She's good friends with a friend of mine. Only cat I can stand. Auntie... I think... probably. She did scream, I remember that." She had a hard time remembering for some reason. "I'm 25 as of November 4th. There, now you know my birthday. Get me something this year." She really didn't care if she got her something or not.

 

[2:04] Pet Fiertze nuh-uhed, brow knitting. "No, just Chi. He is someone I thought everyone knew, because they know someone who he's raped or have been themselves. I like a cat lady named Emberen." Pet tapped her lower lip with a finger in contemplation, reminded herself to return the pad and pencil to their designated spot. "Do you want to get matching masks and stuff? You need a different one from that, that people won't associate with you. Right?"

 

[2:06] Colette Loon shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose. I don't wear this one as much as I used to actually, but I needed to wash my other mask. Where will we get these masks, rookie?" she asked.

 

[2:09] Pet Fiertze mulled over the idea, contemplating where best to look. "I will go out shopping around one day, and if I find something nice, I can take you to look? I want it to be the perfect thing!" It was strange to be -vain- about picking something to cover one's face, but she seemed pretty unbudging on the whole mask aesthetics thing.

 

[2:11] Colette Loon popped her neck again. It sure did hurt. Sleeping on concrete would do that. "I wear a mask because I can. Sooner or later, people stop asking. It'd probably be better for me not to wear a mask when doing these things, huh?" She laughed a bit and crossed her arms.

 

[2:14] Pet Fiertze furrowed her brow, as the woman had a point. "That is true. If you think people will suspect you, it's best not to do it. It is the combination of blond hair and a mask that will stand out most, yeah?"

 

[2:16] Colette Loon shrugged her shoulders again. She was rather tired at this point. She was good at standing for hours, but she wasn't immortal or anything. She'd need sleep soon. "I guess. But I'm not worried about people knowing who I am or not. This city is too corrupt for anyone to be that big of a deal. I mean, for this kind of thing. The police suck."

 

[2:23] Pet Fiertze nodded her head meekly, hand wandering up to cover a fierce yawn. "Yes. Wanted signs for your arrest would be no good. The mercenaries here are terrible," Pet mewed forlornly, recalling Bane and his rude attempts, though she didn't know his name. She'd narrowly escaped that dilemma. Little hands balled into fists, and she knuckled them into sleepy eyes. Once donce, Pet blinkblinked a bit vacantly for a moment, and snapped out of her sleep-deprived stupor after a moment. "Colette, thank you so much. I'm so glad for all of this," She intoned happily, barreling into the woman's petite form for another greedy hug. Arms eventually unsnaked and loosed from her, and she withdrew again, a dopey smile plastered across her features. "It is sleep time."

 

[2:28] Colette Loon patted the woman on the back awkwardly as she hugged her again. "Don't sweat it. Now I just get someone to play games with. No big deal." She nodded her head and itched her neck. "Yes, it's late. I've been up all day, walking. I'm so *very* tired. Enjoy wherever you sleep and hope that your pal, Colette, sleeps soundly." She laughed a bit, still wondering why she'd been so nice to her. She began to walk back into the city. "Tata."

 

[2:30] Pet Fiertze still had that ridiculously content little smile etched across her lips. "Sweet dreams, pretty Colette," she called after her, toddling off in the opposite direction.

Thanks to everyone who has tagged me on this random 10. I'm just going to go with random things that has occurred to me today...

 

1. I realized that I really need to clean out my car. Right now I'm sitting in the passenger seat and can see on the mat a discarded subway sandwich wrapper, one used sock, the book "The Feast of Love," an empty water bottle, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a neck roll pillow and misc. papers, sheesh what a mess.

 

2. Today I agreed to do a shoot on the big island on Monday. I'm doing a trade with my trainer and I am stoked.

 

3. On that note I've been taking care of myself. I've lost 6 pounds in 5 weeks. I wish it was 12 but some is better than none.

 

4. The bird is still alive.

 

5. I need to call Jenni (Jinjur) She's in Honolulu.

 

6. I need to FM FdeS! Oh lord, this is turning into a list of things to do...hahaha!

 

7. I'm writing this in between assignments. I just photographed a college graduation, next will be a dance class for "mature" ladies. I wonder if they are going to try to recruit me. I'm constantly being recruited for something.

 

8. I'm chewing bubblemint gum.

 

9. Instead of beer I drink wine now. (Can you tell I'm obsessing about my diet these days...how boring!)

 

10. My eyes are showing my age. It's weird to watch yourself get older.

 

11. Another thing done. Check.

 

I gotta get back to work. Thanks again to the luvs who tagged me and to anyone who has read this far... ; )

  

 

Jaina Lefevre starting into the Snake Pit when she spies Portia. "Miss Portia! I gots a message for you! But I gotta say Hi Mama. You come in too?"

 

Portia Kass was sending a text message when she heard the vaguely familiar voice of Jaina calling to her. She looked up and blinked a few times. "Oh, sure thing," she said with a bewildered smile and tucked her phone into her pocket before following the girl inside.

 

Jaina Lefevre hurries in and jumps up to grin at Deets. "Hi Mama! This is Miss Portia. I gots a message for her but I wanted to say hi first."

 

Tanken Darkstone watches the pair head into the Snakepit and gives them both a quick nod. They weren't the men he was looking for, and he had little reason to bother them with questions about them. He takes the time to lean over and check out Portia's behind as she moves through the door way, tonguing the inside of his cheek. He chuckles as he straightens himself up again and leans back against the wall, digging in his pocket for one of his cigarettes.

 

Deets Carroll looks to the door as it opens, and smiles broadly as she sees Jaina come in. "Hey bug! Oh, okay."

 

Deets Carroll turns and picks Jaina up for a hug and a kiss on the forehead, letting her sit on the bar if she wanted.

 

Deets Carroll looks around suspiciously for Nanny, frowning.

 

Portia Kass chuckled at the girl's enthusiasm and gave the woman behind the bar a faint smile. "Hi there," she said with a little wave and smiled at the two together.

 

Jaina Lefevre climbs up and wriggles behind the bar. A kiss and a hug and she giggles, then settles on the bar, feet swinging lightly. "You knowed my Mama, Miss Portia?"

 

Deets Carroll smiles, "We've never been introduced. " She extends her hand. "Deets Carroll."

 

Portia Kass neared the pair at the bar and shook her head gently at Jaina's question. "No, I'm sorry to say I don't." She lifted her gaze to the girl's mother and met the woman's hand. She shook it, not firmly, but not so limply that there was no point in shaking hands at all. "Portia Kass," she replied with a polite grin. "Nice to meet you."

 

Jaina Lefevre chatters on. "Miss Portia babysnits for Conor sometimes. OH! I gotta tell you, Miss Portia. The Sapphira lady said she wanted to talk to you. She wasn't kinda happy about Mister Luk." She grins cheerily and then looks back at Deets. "Nanny droppeded me off here. She's got a boyfriend."

 

Deets Carroll nods. "My pleasure." She cocks her head. "You work for Damian, don't you? I remember seeing you while he was campaigning."

 

Deets Carroll mutters something about Sa not being happy unless she's unhappy.

 

Portia Kass was having trouble keeping the conversations straight with Jaina jabbering over her mother. Her attention was focused on Deets for the most part, so she didn't catch all of what Jaina said at first. "Oh.. yes.. I'm Damian's assistant," she delivered to Deets. "Come to think of it, I remember him mentioning your name as well. Nice to finally meet you." She blushed a little as she realized she had repeated herself and then turned to the little girl. "What was that now, Jaina? Who wants to talk to me?" Her brow was creased in curiosity.

 

Jaina Lefevre grins. "Damian's my p'tend Daddy. He likes my hugs." She grins broadly at that and then ohs. "The Sapphira lady. She wasn't happy about Mister Luk."

 

Portia Kass's brow furrowed even more as she tried to decipher this message. She had never heard of anyone by the name of Sapphira... so she couldn't imagine what she would have to be unhappy about, but at least she recognized Luk's name. "What about Luk?" she asked, hoping to get a bit more information to go on.

 

Deets Carroll sets a glass of milk on the bar for Jaina and follows with a couple of maraschino cherries on a plate, before turning to Portia. "Can I get you a drink?"

 

Jaina Lefevre oohs at the cherries and picks one up, popping it in her mouth and chewing before starting to talk. No, she's not swallowed yet. "Mister Luk called her 'baby' and was tellin' her she was mad for nothin'. They sleeps t'gether."

 

Deets Carroll shakes her head and chuckles.

 

Portia Kass's confused expression softened slightly as she turned to Deets and said, "Oh, just a bottle of water would be great... thanks." As Jaina continued her story, things became a little more clear and Portia's face began to flush with embarassment. Sapphira must be Luk's girlfriend... and Portia could only assume that she was "upset" over what had happened between Portia and Luk during the regression. My but Jaina seemed terribly informed on the subject for such a little girl and Portia was rather more concerned about that than the actual subject matter, but Deets was laughing so... Portia laughed too, awkwardly. "I see..." she said slowly. "So... she wanted to talk to me?"

 

Jaina Lefevre nods. "Uh huh. She was mad. I don't think she's gonna shot you though. Mister Luk told 'er it was just the bein' crazy stuff."

 

Deets Carroll fetches a bottle of water from the cooler, cracking the top before passing to Portia. She blinks as she notices something. "Hey kiddo, where's Pa-Fetic? Did you forget her someplace?"

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Nuh uh. I lefted her on my bed. I don't gotta watch her no more."

 

Deets Carroll looks puzzled. "You don't? How come?"

 

Portia Kass's eyes went wide and the color rapidly drained from her face. She was frozen for a moment, unable to speak. Deets broke the silence and Portia blinked a few times, coming back to her senses. Surely... no one was going to shoot her over one kiss? She blinked a few times and rubbed the back of her neck before reaching out for the water. She snatched it up and drank almost of half of it in a few quick gulps, than said a very breathless, "Thanks..." to Deets.

 

Jaina Lefevre shrugs and looks at Deets. "You tooked them." She glances at Portia, frowning. "You okay Miss Portia?"

 

Deets Carroll notices the woman's discomfiture, and chuckles. "I wouldn't worry about Sa, it'll blow over pretty quick. Luk'll do somehting else to piss her off, and she'll forget all about you. Besides, she's a lousy shot."

 

Portia Kass took another deep drink of water and nodded a bit too much and too quickly. Clearly she was still a little nervous about the whole Sapphira thing. Portia wasn't big on confrontation... especially not if there was the possibility of shooting involved. "Oh.. I'm fine..." she lied, trailing off to listen to Deets. Yeah... that wasn't very comforting either. Her hand was shaking as she lifted the bottle to drink again and finished it off, sucking it down so quickly that the plastic of the bottle crinkled and caved in on itself, then reflated with a loud pop once it left the seal of her lips. "Yeah..." she said idly... then looked back up at Jaina. "Did she... Miss Sapphira... mention um... when she wanted to talk to me...?" That was one conversation that Portia was surely going to be taking her new bodyguard along to.

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Nuh uh. But she's gonna paid me when I tell her I told ya. Wanna come with me and I can tell her and ya can do it then? I'll hold your hand..."

 

Deets Carroll frowns and looks sharply at the child. "PAY you?"

 

Portia Kass shook her head just as quickly as she had nodded before. Did it make Portia look like a coward? You bet. Did she care? Not even a little. She shook her head so much that her glasses unseated themselves from the bridge of her nose a little. Portia pushed them back into place with her ring finger. "I... can't right now... I've got... a meeting... with the mayor," she invented. "You can tell her you told me."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks over at Deets. "Uh huh. I had a mess'ger job. I got ten creds to go tell 'er and then ten when it was done."

 

Deets Carroll blinks. "What are you doing with this money? We need to get you a piggy bank."

 

Jaina Lefevre sighs. "Mama, it was 'fore I had you and Mommy. A kid's gotta eat, y'know? I gived money to Dreven and Rivers and stuff for foods. There's lotsa kids that need foods sometimes."

 

Deets Carroll hmmphs, mollified. For now.

 

Portia Kass was still too nervous and anxious about the whole vindictive girlfriend thing to even be touched by the sweetness of the sentence Jaina had just uttered. She was too busy trying to keep her hand from shaking as she pulled her wallet out of the pocket of her hoodie. "H... how much do I owe you for the water, Deets?" she asked the woman. She was eager to make her exit and get to her imaginary meeting.

 

Jaina Lefevre is gonna have to hide her moneys. Deets finds close to eight hundred creds in a crumpled up bag under her mattress, she's gonna be surprised.

 

Deets Carroll smiles as she leaves. "Three creds." She points to the NPC tender.

"Hi there, Thanks for your visit to my stream.... and well, sorry to say so, but you've been tagged! You have to write 16 random things about yourself, then add it to the group (see the group in the side column on my page). Then tag 16 people to do it too. Good luck! Ouendi"

 

1. I was always the sporty one, I used to play football. You name an injury (and if it’s not serious), I probably did it. Seriously, I am the best date ever. At school my favourite subject was P.E. I got a B at GCSE. (I got an A in Maths)

 

2. I was bullied at school. That wasn’t a fun time. At least I didn’t get knocked up at 16 by my chav boyfriend. But Juno has to be one of my favourite movies !

 

3. I love 30 St. Mary Axe a.k.a The Gherkin. Actually, rephrase, I love skyscrapers. Even if it’s just a rectangular building with 60 storeys, I’ll be the one taking 10+ photos of it.

 

4. I don’t have many myself, but I love night shots. Where the only thing that can be seen is the lights of the skyline and it’s many skyscrapers. It’s gotta be a really bad waste of electricity, but it looks so good.

 

5. I hate politics. I’m 18 now, so can vote. I have no idea where my political allegiance lies here in the UK. I would say I am Democrat. GOBAMA. Sarah Palin is a crazy woman. Please don’t hate me, it’s just my opinion.

 

6. I enjoy Sundays for Postsecret. My favourites ones are the ones about love. They’re cute. Whilst on the subject of love, I’ll add that I love kisses, affection and flirting (with the right person). But hickeys make me want to vomit. They’re disgusting.

 

7. I’ve been to America twice and am in love. Plus, when I go there, I get a stamp in my passport, and a sticker. If anyone removes the sticker, I may get angry. When I returned home in August after my latest trip, the TSA had searched my bag. I did take one piece of luggage out and return with two..

 

8. I’ve never been artistic, and I’d never go to an art gallery. I take photographs for fun, for the memories. Now I take for Flickr, for anyone who wants to look and hopefully appreciate or like.

 

9. Whenever I go somewhere away from home, I’ll spend my first few mornings freaking out. This is called anxiety. Hopefully I’ll grow out of it..

 

10. If I don’t straighten my hair, I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. I may not wear makeup daily, but you can be sure my hair is straight. I spend forever in the shower. I love water, I love the beach, I hate the rain ! I nearly drowned on holiday when I was younger, and only learnt to swim at about age 9 for fear of drowning.

 

11. I intend to emigrate after I finish my degree.

 

12. I’m not a religious person, never have been, never will be. I hate extremism. I prefer to live my life as a good person.

 

13. I can’t live without my iPod. My taste in music is mega. Here’s a sample of what can be found on my iPod: Bryan Ferry, The Hood Internet, Ryan Leslie, Imogen Heap, Sade. Oh, by the way. Sade OWNS.

 

14. I hate vegetables. I like chips. Yes, how does that work?! Not a big fan of much meat other than chicken, and turkey. Pork sausages I’m good for, also minced beef. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a really picky eater !

 

15. I’m jealous of every single person who has been explored. I am grateful for everyone who has favourited, commented, visited my photostream. 201 Views on ”what’s in my bag”. 64 Views on ”the face revealed”. I enjoy that people have the, “Oooh ! that looks good / like something interesting” moment. (That’s what I do when I see a photo I like). Let it be known, I prefer originals.

 

16. I was a Student Paediatric Nurse. I'm now a would-be American Studies Student. September 2010 Entry.

Well, my new car kicks ass. Took it out for a ride on the town last night. Stopped about 4 police pursuits with it. Hell, it was basically one Sylvester Stallone short of a Death Race. But that was yesterday. Today I'm just fucking around in my house, waiting for the sun to crawl under the horizon so I can put on my armor and go for another drive. I didn't bother putting my armor in the shed this time, though. And I have no excuse for it. I'm just a lazyass. As I was pulling out of the chest I stored it in, a knock came on the door. Shit. Well, better see who it is. I open the door, and see and old friend of mine, looking as uninterested as ever.

 

"Ms. Tate? Why you here?"

 

"Okay, Jay, seriously. I've been through this with you a million goddamned times! My name is Linda!"

 

"Sorry Ms. Ta-I mean uh, Linda..."

 

Anyway, here's the thing. Linda Tate is basically my manager for that little sidejob known as my MMA Career. Simply put, she's the kind of person it takes alot to make her laugh. She doesn't fuck around by any extent,it's just getting to business and moving along. But there's something else. You see, she's one of the few people I allow to know just who really am. She doesn't say much of it because I'm basically the reason she's still here, living and all that.

 

"Well, c'mon in."

 

"Fine, but we gotta make this quick, so here's your tickets to Rio."

 

"Rio?"

 

"Yeah, Rio. You have a fight there in about a week, remember?"

 

*HONK*

 

"Oh yeah. I forgot I'm kinda a pro fighter an all. Fuck me, right?"

 

*HONKHONK*

 

"Uh..sure. The point is, you'll have to open your schedule a bit, because I know you're so busy with that."

 

She gestured at the chest against the wall. Ah shit, the arm bit of my armor is sticking out. Well, it's a good thing she already knows about the fun little shenanigans I get into at--

 

*HONKHONK*

 

"Okay that's seriously pissing me off. Who the fuck is that!?"

 

"Uh, it's my stupid boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend in a bit. I'm dumping his sorry ass tonight."

 

"Heh. for real?"

 

"Yeah. The guy is a jerk. He's always rude to me, dresses like he thinks he a rapper or some stupid crap, and every time we're out he's always eying other girls."

 

"So a garden variety Douchebag? How did someone like you fall for someone like that?"

 

"He wasn't always like that. When i first met him he was decent and all, but a few months ago he just sorta--"

 

"Linda, the hell you doing? Get your ass outta here, we're gonna be late!"

 

That voice alone pissed me off. Then the guy walks through the doorway into the same room with me. This guy was a textbook toolbag. Hat backwards, wearing hugeass sunglasses in the night, and a leather jacket with the sleeves cut off. I think I saw "swag" etched on one side of his outdated rag of a jacket.

 

"Y'know, you only let yourself in someone's house when you're invited."

 

"Whatever, brah. You done yet, girl?"

 

"Darrel, just wait in the car. I just gotta-"

 

"Hey, I'm not gonna be late to the party because you can't get shit done! Hey, that's a sick knife."

 

Oh goddammit! I left my blade on the shelf when I came home. And now fuckstick here see's it. Better not let that shit get a good look. He might recognize it.

 

"Touch that blade and I snap your fucking neck like a twig."

 

"Jerrick!"

 

"Whoa, we got a badass here. You got a problem, brah?"

 

"Yeah, it's about 5'10 and looks like a member of Vanilla Ice's passe."

 

"Hey, eat a di-"

 

"Darrel, enough! Let's just go to that party, alright?"

 

They both walk out of the room, the asshat glaring me as he leaves. I shoot him a look I usually use while I have the armor on, and I see a bit a fear in his face before he's outta my sight. I tell you waht, people like that only continue to breath because I'm such a nice guy.

  

Johnathon Bernard snorts a bit too far pissed off to care at this point and time about any tone. "Why don' tyou go play with the other mutants Kat? I'm sure theres plenty in KAOS the pack or catwalkers that you make your rounds with when your not at the record store. Games are over - get you ass out of my sight Kat or I'll make you truly wish you hadn't pissed me the fuck off." oh he was seething, his tones a outright growl. He was pissed beyond measure.

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth narrows her eyes when he told her to play with Mutants, but the point that angered her the most when he compaired KAOS to the pack, and catwalkers. Without any warning, or sign the tiger would push herself off of the ground and tried to lunge into his form using as much of her weight to slam into the middle of his chest to get him to the ground. Bernard seemed to have forgotten, the tiger worked at the gym, Marina treated her like she was her kid.....is anyone was leaving the gym it'd be him. Weither she got him down or not she'd try to slam her fist into his jaw. "You started these games!" In a strange way, granted Bernard would probably never see it....the games was what showed people that they were different....Like when she stabbed someone after saying she loves them, in her book...it was normal.

 

Jackie Vanmoer raises a brow as she watches and listens. She laughs though and then she says in her still thick Irish accent "Go on Bernard! Kick 'er ass!!" and she laughs again. She would move to try and slip past them though, sheh ad come all this way just to be in the gym... And god damn it she was gonna use that fuckign treadmill!!!!

 

Johnathon Bernard rolled with Kat, He lived, ate shit pissed and breathed hand to hand fighting. He did take the hit to the jaw, an elbow flying at Kats collar bone while he tried to roll her onto her back, "Fucking cuntrag!" He was reachign into a pouch with his right hand, the sound of somethign clicking as he did.

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth weighted less then Bernard so rolling her over, wasn't extremely hard as she'd attempt to lift her knee up just enough that it would cause some space between them and his weight wasn't completely crushing her. The tiger felt the elbow to her collar bone, and moved her hand upward to try and crack him in the mouth once more. Her ears picked up the sound of the clicking and her eyes widen as she knew what that meant and what would happen. Quickly the tiger tried to use her hand to pull out her blade if she could grab it before he pulled out the noise clicker. "You do what I think your going to do! I swear to god, I'll tear your other eye out!" SHe threatened him. Well she pulled at her knife.

 

Johnathon Bernard snarled and didn't even bother dragging the taser out of the pocket, he'd jam the prongs into Kats leg through the fabric of hs pants and depress the button, liekly tasering the fuck outta the both of them. A bit of blood dripping from the split in his lips as muscles locked up and he literaly roared in pain from the shock.

 

Jasmine Plessis straightened up as she seemed to stumble upon a peculiar scene. She watched on with a serene neutrality, only the faintest of smirks coming to her lips. It wasn't her brawl...why should she come between theirs? She knew neither, and had only spoken to bernard briefly. She watched the mutant with a certain disdain. She furrowed her brows, hearing the click and zapping of the tazer as she watched both of their bodies reacted.

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth yelps out at the electricity that surged through her body and tried to hold in that scream of fear but leaning up and trying to bite down upon Bernard's neck which is something he probably should have expected. If she managed to bite down upon the flesh, she'd bite as hard as she could even if that meant taking out a chunk as long as that scream wouldn't be heard. The rest of her body was starting to curl up like it did when Bernard first tazered her in the cell, and if you looked close enough you'd notice a few tears leaving her eyes.

 

Jackie Vanmoer truns ands he raises an eyebrow. After a moment she reaches into her bag. She pulls out a bag and then she yells at them "Alright break it up! Behave er I'm gonna have ta pop a cap in both y'alls asses!!" Adns he laughs abi t... She'd always wanted to say that! She doesp ull out her gun though, she wasn't joking about shooting them

 

Johnathon Bernard had jammed his arm in Kats mouth, the movements jerky and spasmic as she refused to let go of the tazer until the battery was dead. He'd yell in pain and fury as he felt those teeth fits down on his flesh, smoke radiating from hims shoulders and neck as the electricy vaporized the moisture.

 

Jasmine Plessis stepped up just a bit closer, rather amused in a sadistic sort of way. Physical pain...it was the closest thing she had to actually feeling alive now. She licked her lower lip nervously before pressing lips together, walking forward a bit more until she saw Jackie, then down at the gun she pulled out, deciding to stay as she was.

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth felt all of her muscles tighten and untighten as she felt more tears leave her eyes. There was many times that the tiger was caught with tears in her eyes, but when she did it usually involved that tazer. She bite down harder onto his arm until she could taste his body and then pulled off of his flesh. "Stop it!!" She whispered to him, her voice was shakey and she tried to keep any of those memories that usually flowed into her mind whenever she was electricuted at bay.

 

Johnathon Bernard flciked the tazer off and fell backwards gaspping for air even as blood ran down his arm. Smoke and burn flesh filled the air around him as that psychotic grin caressed his lips. He'd lick them and grunt, "Goign to listen to me now kitty kat?"

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth didn't move as she stayed in almost a tight ball. Her eyes shut tight expecting more electricity to shoot through her as she tried to also keep the fact that she was scared of death of that damn weapon of his...the good thing was it seemed only Bernard realized what the tiger was scared of as she nodded her head. "..Y...yes.." She stumbled out, still almost scared to move as she remembered before he kept tazering her. Her tail coiled around her waist and her ears seemed almost buries in her strands of hair.

 

Johnathon Bernard slowly rolled over and got to his knees, the taser stayign in his pocket as he coughed, "I had nothign to do with you beign arrested. Never filed papers on you." He'd snort in amusement, "and if you ever try and attack me again Kat.. I'll taze you, fuck you, then taze you while fucking you."

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth wiped her eyes quickly as she sniffled once more. "Aza said so..." She spoke low, "He wanted me for questioning....and then left me in there all night and day." She had goosebumps over her body as she released a whimper of pain as she tried to sit up slowly. She had a look of fear in her eyes still as she watched him once more. "You can't fuck me...that's one of the rules..." She stated weakly as she was trying to control her emotions. "Plus, the games over...." She repeated his words.

 

Johnathon Bernard chuckled a bit and watched her, "There are no rules if there is no Game Kat." HE'd state evenly. Slowly bandaging the bloody bite mark along his arm. IT seemed Kat would leave her mark on him afterall. "And I'll find out what the fuck Aza's got in his ass cause I never filed shit on you. Your just too damned stupporn and stupid to listen to me. Gotta fuckign beat it into your brain half the time."

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth seems confused as she heard his words and shook his head. "You're not just a toy..." She mumbled to herself more then him as she wiped her eyes once more atlease she was calmer and looked over to him. Her fingers moved against the glove, and pulled out a small pink needle, and then pricked her finger with it hopefully to relax her body and stop the trembling. She rarely used her own drugs, unless it was to numb the pain. "...I'm not stupid...I'm smarter then all your soliders..." She wiped another tear and waited for her muscles to relax.

 

Johnathon Bernard snorts, "Kat. You act like a sutbborn, spoiled, petulant. whiney child when you do't get your way." He'd managed to get one foot up on the ground. A huff of breath. it felt liek he had a thousand ants biting at his skin. "Not a toy huh? then what the hell am I? cause you sure as fuck annoy the piss outta me."

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth watched him as he stood up and then took out another toothpick needle and offered it to him, instead of just drugging him like she usually would have. Her body muscles was slowly relaxing and she couldn't help but smirk at his words. "That's 'cause I always get my way..." She stated in a matter of fact tone of voice, the tiger knew she was stubborn, spoiled, and whiney...it was one of the reasons why her and Chi always faught more then anyone else. She didn't answer his question about what he was instead she just sat there and though about that answer. "What am I to you? You said I was something else...but you linked me with that other cat..." She didn't seem happy with that, atlease she didn't link him to another UAC. "And I could have other UAC toys, ya know..."

 

Johnathon Bernard snorts and waves off the needle. "I prefer the pain. Remidns me I'm not dead." He'd stumble back and land on his ass with a grunt. Fumbling or a cigar, and finaly lgihting it. "Yer special Kat. Told you that.A pain in my ass that annoys me and pissess me off to now end. and if you coudl have othrs, go ahead. I don't give a damn kat. Tired of listenign to you throw a fit everytime you imagine i've done somethign to piss you off..." on second thought he did reach out and prick his finger over that needle. HEr nerves steadying slowly.

 

Shadowkat Wrigglesworth studies him from the distance as she would slowly move closer to him. "Well..." She spoke slowly, her voice was dull as she moved to sit next to him and then looked down. "You get me mad, and I'm not a damn doll!" She stated slowly as she watched him with the cigar. Every so often moved her hand up to wipe her cheeks. Whenever she got tazered, it took her a while to get back to normal. "You're not suppose to like me..." She stated slowly, "You're suppose to...I don't know...keep a distance." She informed him as if she made a list of what was suppose to happen and what wasn't. "And...and it's strange when you react to things I do...then I start thinking about it and it's strange." The drug was making her more truthful, which could be good or bad...atlease right now she wasn't in the right state of mind to play any games.

 

Johnathon Bernard snorted in amusement, as he chewed the end of the lit cigar and arm lifting up to wrap around KAts shoulders and tug her up against him, "Kat. Shut up and stop acting like theres a set of rules. IF there were actual rules to this we wouldn't keep crying about breakign the rules. I'll do as I damn well please weather you like it or not. Hows that?" And he's turn pull the Cigar from his mouth and outright lip lock Kat if she didn't stop him.

BOY:

I remember every little thing

As if it happened only yesterday

Parking by the lake

And there was not another car in sight

And I never had a girl

Looking any better than you did

And all the kids at school

They were wishing they were me that night

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight

It never felt so good, it never felt so right

And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

C'mon! Hold on tight!

C'mon! Hold on tight!

 

GIRL:

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

 

BOY:

I can see paradise by the dashboard light

 

GIRL:

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely dressed

 

TOGETHER:

Ain't no doubt about it

Baby got to go and shout it

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

  

BOY:

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely dressed

 

Baby doncha hear my heart

You got it drowning out the radio

I've been waiting so long

For you to come along and have some fun

And I gotta let you know

No you're never gonna regret it

So open up your eyes I got a big surprise

It'll feel all right

Well I wanna make your motor run

 

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight

It never felt so good, it never felt so right

And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

C'mon! Hold on tight!

C'mon! Hold on tight!

  

TOGETHER:

 

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

I can see paradise by the dashboard light

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

Paradise by the dashboard light

You got to do what you can

And let Mother Nature do the rest

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely-

 

We're gonna go all the way tonight

We're gonna go all the way

tonight's tonight...

We're gonna go all the way tonight

We're gonna go all the way

tonight's tonight...

  

RADIO BROADCAST

 

OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here,

Two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth,

There's the windup, and there it is, a line shot up the middle,

Look at him go. This boy can really fly! He's rounding first and really

turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for

second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the

throw, and what a throw! He's gonna slide in head first, here he

comes, he's out! No, wait, safe-safe at second base, this kid

really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the

plate, here's the pitch-he's going, and what a jump he's got,

he's trying for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt-safe at

third! Holy cow, stolen base! He's taking a pretty big lead out

there, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher

glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down the third

base line, the suicide squeeze is on! Here he comes. squeeze play, it's gonna be close! Heres the throw. heres the play at the plate. Holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

 

GIRL:

 

Stop right there!

I gotta know right now!

Before we go any further!

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

Do you need me?

Will you never leave me?

Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?

Will you take me away, will you make me your wife?

Do you love me!?

Will you love me forever!?

Do you need me!?

Will you never leave me!?

Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!?

Will you take me away , will you make me your wife!?

I gotta know right now

Before we go any further

Do you love me!?

Will you love me forever!?

 

BOY:

 

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

I'll give you an answer in the morning

 

GIRL:

 

I gotta know right now

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

Do you need me?

Will you never leave me?

Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?

Will you take me away , will you make me your wife?

I gotta know right now!

Before we go any further

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

 

Whats it gonna be boy? Come on...I can wait all night... Whats it gonna be boy... yes or no?? Whats it gonna be boy? YES OR NO???

  

BOY:

 

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

  

TOGETHER:

Boy: let me sleep on it......

Girl: I gotta know right now.......Do you love me will you love me forever do you need me will you never leave me will you make so happy for the rest of my life will take me away will make me your wife i gotta know right before we go any further do you love me will you love me forever.

 

BOY:

Let me sleep on it..

 

GIRL:

Will you love me forever?

 

BOY:

Let me sleep on it..

 

GIRL:

Will you love me forever?!?!?!

  

BOY:

 

I couldn't take it any longer

Lord I was crazed

And when the feeling came upon me

Like a tidal wave

I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave

That I would love you to the end of time

I swore that I would love you to the end of time!

  

TOGETHER:

 

So now I'm praying for the end of time

To hurry up and arrive

'Cause if I gotta spend another minute with you

I don't think that I can really survive

I'll never break my promise or forget my vow

 

BOY:But God only knows what I can do right now

 

I'm praying for the end of time

It's all that I can do

Praying for the end of time,

So I can end my time with you!!

 

TOGETHER:

BOY:

It was long ago and it was far away

And it was so much better than it is today

 

GIRL:

It never felt so good

It never felt so right

And we were glowing like

A metal on the edge of a knife

  

"Karma Hotel"

 

Welcome.......

To the.......

Karma.........

Hoooooooo..........

Welcome.......

To the.......

Karma.........

Hoooooooo..........

 

Karma Hotel lobby, and I'm lookin' for enlightenment

Concierge, where can I go to find adventure and excitement?

Played of all the casinos, bars, and orgies, they bore me

Here's another twenty, now what you got for me?

He stared at me hard, finally dipped in his drawer

Flipped the elevator keys and said "Go to the thirteenth floor"

So in a flash I was there, cold knock on the door

Bombarded by cigar smoke, the smell of Hell and War

And when the fog cleared, the scene was like an eerie nightmare

"Come in, we've been waitin' on you for years"

"You wanted adventure, now you got it boy, don't show me no tears,"

"This is the place where you face your desires and fears,"

In each of his hands was a revolver, forty-five in the left

Twenty-two in his right

Russian roulette's the game tonight

And there's NO escape, so don't try to run

But I'll fill your life with bliss if you're alive once the death wheel has spun

"Choose your gun"

Gimme the forty-five, I said with a smile

"Here's a shiny silver bullet, might as well go out in style"

Put one in the cylinder, spun it, aimed at my dome and slowly clicked it

Now I feel the adrenheline rush that's got me so addicted

Motivatin' me to play, a second time, then a third time

Fourth time I clicked and popped

BOOM! Money shot

Next morning, cops found me, needle stickin' out my arm

Peep the drama, another sad story at the Karma

 

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

 

Peep the gamblin' scene

Gettin' dough as he rambled the fiends

Exotic queens dancin' with tamborines

And the Gambler's theme

One eye open, one eye scopin'

Watchin' his gat, watchin' his back

Watchin' his stack, watchin' his wrap

Watchin' his deck, as people notice like

"OH SHIT! Boy just won a hundred grand!"

"Where? Where?" "Oh my God, at Table Seven, did you see him yet?"

Look at his chips, all that green growin' like Chia Pets

Two out the handle and he can't stop

The more and more the fans flock, the more the dice out his hands drop

Walk in the room, he's bettin' and makin' money and every table

Women are sweatin' him like he was James Bond or Joe David

Yeah, he's satisfied, he's in his element now

To do this for the rest of his life is how it's goin' down

So it seems like, he got his whole shit set

But his son is gangbangin' in the park, holdin' a rain check

Meanwhile, somehow, somethin' is kinda eerie

About this place that he seems to be payin' a permanent visit to

Every face he sees, expressionless, like a mannequin

He really wants to leave, but stays cool, to avoid panickin'

He's gettin' the same attention, but somethin' seems sorta different

He's wrinklin' up, losin' weight, and his body's startin' to stiffen

Now he notices years have passed in one night

He made more cash than we could imagine, but never lived life

 

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

 

Since we're all trapped in, peace guys, see you later

I'm a go to that red door near the elevator

Triple nines on nails danglin' off the door

Excuse me sir, I didn't notice you before

 

Pleased to meet you, Macristo's the name

Pretty young thing

Come into my room, I'd like to play a game, it's called "Doom"

Beat the friends and family

Gotta give yourself to me

By the way, what's your name?

 

Eve

 

Check the scenery

 

Looks so happy, at the same time

The way they're entwined seems so good it's a crime

 

Believe in me as I believe in you, live it up tonight

 

Well fuck it I feel I've got all of my life!

 

So true, pleasure and pain, transform lust to thrust

One night stands of hot sex, the bottle entrusts

 

Oooh, invitation accepted, too good to reject it

So I join in unprotected

 

Expected, one life to live, don't respect it

 

Respect what?

 

Ooh, you poor child you've been neglected

 

Cristo why do I feel so cold?

It's like each time I climax you take a piece of my soul

 

You could never leave, you made a pact with the Devil himself

Infected in my family of trust, my daughter of lust

 

So what you're tellin' me is I can't leave!

And I'm trapped here for eternity!

Oooooohhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

 

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

Welcome to the Karma Hotel

Looks like Heaven but could be Hell

Where pleasant screams transform to yells

And every suite casts its own spell

 

Written by: booker t. tucker/chenjerai kumanyika/irina m. perez/jerel spruill/joseph m. davis

Performed by: Spooks

Darkness Odigaunt isn't surprised Conor knows more than some of the Catwalkers. She reaches out to tilt it toward the light, not taking, or even trying to take it out of his hand, "It's beautiful, Conor. Your friend must be quite some carpenter."

 

Jaina Lefevre opens the door and nearly runs into Conor. "Sorry..." she mutters and shuts the door, skittering over to the side. "Gotta find my lucky pencil." She doesn't look up at either of them, letting her hair hide her face.

 

Conor Nitely nodded giggling. "JUST LIKE JESUS!" The elastic was pulled taught as he showed it off, snapping with a faint ping as Jaina nearly ran into him. Luckily no rock inside to do any damage. "Hullo Jaina," he giggled, still grinning. "Welcome to Saint Michael's!"

 

Darkness Odigaunt grinned, "Right. Wonder if Jesus ever made a slingshot this pretty?" Her head lifts as the door opens, "Welcome, Jaina, do you need help with your pencil?"

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head and pads up to where class was, looking around under the pews and stuff. She comes back a few minutes later. "Ain't here. I gotta keep lookin'." She pauses to glance at the slingshot. "Gotta get ball bare-rings for it. Better'n rocks."

 

Conor Nitely eyed her considering, his proud expression faltering a bit. "Ball bare-rings? I errr...dunno what they are. And rocks are free and stuff yanno. In the park at least. Just gotta stay away from old crazy pants or growl real mean so she'll leave." Eyes turn back to D, looking slightly deflated now at his inadequate ammo.

 

Darkness Odigaunt looks between Jaina and Conor, "You're both right. Ball bearings are okay because they're little metal balls, aerodynamic and stuff, but rocks are better because you don't have to carry them, they're lying around all over so you don't run out."

 

Jaina Lefevre shrugs. "You get 'em out of broken chair wheels and stuff. There's a bunch over at th'warehouse. I bet there's like boxes or somethin' in all that trash. I sleeped there before and there was lots of that stuff."

 

Conor Nitely nodded, making a mental note in his head. "Which warehouse? And how come you slept there? You've got like two beds and stuff right? Two beds and two mommies." The slingshot was wrapped delicately back against his thigh. Fussily almost, a good two minutes devoted to wrapping and rewrapping the string.

 

Darkness Odigaunt watches the small display, wondering if that's taking care of a new weapon, or mere OCD. "Jaina, I didn't see you with a pencil at school, but it was getting crazy this week."

 

Jaina Lefevre mutters. "/Before/ that. I ain't always had them." She scuffs the rug with her shoes. "It was in my bag pocket and now it's gone. I looked at th'Beast house before we left and it ain't there and if it ain't here then it got losted on the train."

Jaina Lefevre adds grumpily. "Two houses aint' so great. Stuff never where you want it."

 

Conor Nitely seems less than sympathetic at her last comment, offering a vague shrug only. "Next time maybe put it inside your bag. So it doesn't fall out and stuff," he adds, just as grumpily. Awkward silence then, skinny arms dangling listlessly at his side as he eyes the votive stand. "Can light a candle and stuff if you want. Pray to find it. In the back is the best though 'cause they're always lonely."

 

Darkness Odigaunt frowns, "Train? Where.. Where are you going on a train?" she already had an inkling, though. "That's right, Conor, light a candle and say a prayer to St. Anthony. He's the patron of lost things."

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Don't wanna. Don't care. Stupid anyway." She looks over at the Sister. "Mommy works at th'Beast so she's got a partment there. I don't like it there. It's always cold and people are mean. And they owns people there and sells them." She shudders and rubs her hands on her arms. "Gonna go. Stupid t'look for a stupid pencil."

 

Conor Nitely frowns as his suggestion is shot down, two feet shuffling over towards the candles. "Well, imma light one anyway," he says simply. "Not for /you/ or anything. Just 'cause I feel like it and stuff. Yup." A shiny zippo lighter is extracted somewhere from his back pocket, three candles lit in quick sucession.

 

Darkness Odigaunt nods, she didn't say anything about soldiers, so she didn't worry as much as she did about River and his ears in Levi. "Be careful, hunny, whereever you are, here or there." She watches Conor go until he disappears around the pole, "It's not stupid, Jaina, if something's important to you, it's okay to worry about it."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks up at Sister D and her lower lip quivers. "No..s'not. Cause then I'm trouble and if I'm trouble...I..." She swallows and looks down. "I gotta go, Sister D." and she starts for the door.

 

Conor Nitely stays by the votive stand, hands clasped in prayer as he prays silently. Well, almost silently. "And Dear God, please make Mayo not so sad about Rith. 'Cause I dunno what to do...and Dear God, please help me find some ball bear-rings 'cause they're ammo-dynamic..."

 

Darkness Odigaunt nods, then bends down to offer her a hug, "It is okay to worry, but be careful about worrying your mommies." Conor's prayer reaches her ears, but she lowers her voice, "I'll see you soon, Jania."

 

Jaina Lefevre stops and looks at Sister D's offered hug. "I better not. Might make Conor mad and I needs my frien's. Cause Mommy and Mama will get tired of bein' Mommies and I'll need frien's so's I don't get sold or somethin."

 

Conor Nitely cannot really see the duo from his spot behind the column and is only half listening anyway. Another murmured prayer and the name "Anthony," said a little louder than the rest of his muttering. Deep respectful bow at the votive stand, cowboy tip of the hat to the picture of Mary. Two feet move quickly towards the door, a faint grin for both females as he waves. "Imma go keep investigating and stuff. And got pirate training soon so gotta hurry. See you later...hope you find your pencil Jaina." The door's kicked open with a dirty sneaker, the word "Hiii-ya," almost giggled as he departs. Almost.

 

Darkness Odigaunt stares at her slightly, "Jaina..." she doesn't even know where to go from that. "Hunny, I'll always be your friend. You never have to worry about anyone taking you away, or selling you, or anything. And I don't think it will make Conor mad." She waves as he leaves, "Enjoy your stay."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches Conor leave and sighs. "See? He is mad. He only likes Caty and that new girl. River's my friend 'cause he don't got no others, but he does really stupid stuff and I can't keep watchin' out for him all the time. And I don't want 'tootles' (tutors) I wanna go to school with kids but those other kitty kids are mean and I don't got ears so...."

 

Darkness Odigaunt shakes her head, "No, hes not leaving because of you. And don't worry about the kittens... trust me, I'll squish out any specism I can find." She bites her lip slightly, "Niyol... You need to meet Niyol."

 

Jaina Lefevre tips her head and looks at Sister. "Who is that?"

 

Darkness Odigaunt raised her hand way up above her head, "Big tall kid... He's the Big Brother of all of Midian. He has tutors too, and he's really nice."

 

Jaina Lefevre wrinkles her nose. "He's not my brudder. All mine got burneded up."

Jaina Lefevre: Yes..the kid has a thing for the bluntly macabre.

 

Darkness Odigaunt closed her eyes briefly, "Not a literal big brother, the way I'm not really your sister. Hunny? I think some day we need to sit down for pizza and talk about families."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches her for a moment. "Why?"

 

Darkness Odigaunt shakes her head, "No reason in particular, really... I've been asking all of the students about them." which was part truth anyway.

 

Jaina Lefevre frowns. "I was a jar baby. Now I gots a Mama and a Mommy. Tha's it. Everyone else is dead or smushed or burneded up or lied."

 

Darkness Odigaunt looks down to the carpet, unsure how to handle this one. "I'm glad you have a family, Jaina.... I really am." She tries offering a hug again, "You have two mommies and friends who care about you."

 

Jaina Lefevre figures SIster D must really need a hug and no one else is around so she gives her one, then steps back. "For now.' she says softly. "Stuff changes. Really fast it changes."

 

Darkness Odigaunt shakes her head, "Not everything changes, hunny. I'm living proof of that. As long as you want me to be, I will be your friend, no matter what happens."

 

Jaina Lefevre gives her a weak smile. "Uh huh. Always changes, Sister D. You're not gonna like me when you finds out I'm too smarts."

 

Darkness Odigaunt shakes her head again, "No. The building you're standing in... The Church itself... Well, it hasn't changed in centuries. And no matter how smart you are, or what you do. I made a promise, Jaina."

 

Jaina Lefevre gives her a 'Yeah, we'll see' look and shrugs. Too cynical.

 

Darkness Odigaunt sighs, in over her head now. "Well... Maybe if things do change, they'll be for the better." she murrmers.

 

Jaina Lefevre just looks at the nun for a moment, then heads for the door. "Bye Sister D. See ya." She seems to barely touch the door and it flies open, banging off the stone. She pauses a moment, staring at it, then shrugs and starts down the steps.

 

Darkness Odigaunt just stands there, looking heartbroken and lost. She opens her mouth to say something as the door closes her off. She turns for the cloister, dejected.

 

I feel like a kid looking up at giant piñatas. No stick to beat the candy out, but I wouldn't swing if I had one. Fuck the candy. The waves are all washing away away away from me. The sand. The animals. Everyone I know just wants to drink alcohol. I see sunshine when she's around. I see all the sunshine we've ever seen when she's close to me. So many directions with her. Every direction at so many speeds down highways, strange roads over mountains through rains and sunsets and coastlines into future distant landscapes. So many directions and reasons and only one reason: travelling together. Trees and colors and wonder whizzing by - stopping where all is silent...yearning for some new fear. So damn exciting and perfect every time. Listening to the happiness in her voice. Just that sound. Feeling so complete knowing that she's enjoying the ride. The ride!

 

I had a little goldfish when I was a kid. Maybe a little over an inch long. I decided one day that she needed a bigger home in a real world, so I took her down to the little seminary pond and let her go. She darted off into the water plants. I watched her coast and bubble around for a while, then we said goodbye. After that day I'd walk by the pond periodically to check on her; see that she was alright. She always seemed fine. Then some months went by / I stopped checking. Then more months went by. After a long while I made it back. I spotted her right away; about three inches long. She was just below the surface. As I got closer and knelt down I started doubting it was really her: She had bloomed the most arrogant and useless fins! Her tail trailed long behind and drooped like an anchor. Her body waved back and forth, but she wasn't going anywhere. Just slowly twitching at the surface. Crippled by her enormous new expression. I looked for the white spot on top of her head...yeah, it was her.

 

Many years later I helped save an old man's life. A large crowd had gathered around a burning vehicle. Everyone stood safely away as they yelled at the scene. Two of us ran in, to find an old guy sitting there just driving down the road! Smoke and flames rapidly consuming him. The situation was a struggle. Death was certainly in the air. I've always wondered about the difficulty of this "rescue". Why would a ninety six year old man's hands and fingers be so impossible to pry from a steering wheel? And how could a body, one I could so easily lift by myself, become so unmovable? Every limb and inch of him that we strenuously managed to pull out of that car had its own density and determination. His foot would not move, his knee would not bend, his other foot was stuck under him, his coat ripped in my hands...I flew back to the ground...his rear would not separate from the seat, yet he wasn't wearing a restraint. Every limb, every inch, anything touching him was determined to stay inside that car. All the while, he keeps his eyes forward through the smoke, through the windshield, beyond...far beyond! Even as flashover singes his head and heats our faces his hands clamp to the wheel until we pry each finger free. Then every part of him that came away to breach the door goes limp. First his foot, then a leg, his hip, abdomen, his chest, an arm, his other arm, his head. Then lastly, his other leg and foot. The gravity in there! Once removed completely, he goes totally weightless. As we carried him away from the flames it felt more like we were holding him down...keeping him from floating off...like, if we had let go, he would've quickly rushed up into the clouds.

 

So, I do the goldfish lady a favor. I take her from her tiny cell and release her to all the abundance she deserves. She soon becomes imprisoned by it. And saving the old man? The rescue was already in progress long before I arrived. Seems now the best help I could've offered would've been to keep the door shut rather than open it.

 

I'm feeling these two stories right now. I'm feeling them in our landscape, and in our future landscapes. They merge: The goldfish and her amplified/inverted imprisonment. The old man wanting to end his life while I can only think to save it. Driving down whatever road he sees, maybe old memories...smoke and flame. All of existence supports her so thoroughly but simultaneously cripples her....the physical laws of the world shift to assist the old fella with his departure. There's something in the crowd. Countering forces. Pulled from his capsule BACK into our world through the air...back into the...pushes her like a toy boat into a debilitating future. His eyes looking at me. Her floating at the surface. Not set free. Maybe I won't ever know what this thing is. What is this thing?

 

Me in my confines, you in yours. Sometimes watery. Smoke and mirrors. Abundance and anemia all merged together and totally separate and totally looking in opposite directions. Rescue and salvation. Polarization. Release and captivity. Acceptance and determination. I'm wagging at the surface. Your fingers are clamped to the steering wheel. My fins are beautiful and numb. I'm alone in this pond. You're staring out through the windshield. Your coat rips in my hands. You don't want to live in that tiny bowl anymore, and neither do I. You coast through the plants, awaiting your future. I stop visiting. Capture and release. My knees won't bend. I'm stuck to the seat. You pull, you fall away. I think I'm rushing into the clouds, but it's really just this burning car / irrelevant salvation. Carried off down to the pond. Staring into your face, you staring straight through me. Back and forth just below the surface. Fresh air fills lungs: failed rescue. I can't close the door. Kneeling down. Is that really her? Gotta keep moving. Freedom at last: No freedom at all. The pulling. The breathing. The smoke. So heavy. The clouds. Dense limbs. The surface. Arrogant fins. The parking lot. The living pond. The tiny bowl. Your comforting hands suspended between releasing, supporting, and holding me down...and my hands are the same for you.

  

...

   

I got a blender for my birthday, and it's really been paying off. I've been wanting to explore soups and sauces for awhile now and after reading Thomas Keller's advice on soup I decided it was high-time. So the first soup I made was something I called "Three Root Soup" and I'll write that one up after a bit here, but the second go-round was less planned. I was making pasta sauce as I usually do and decided to throw it in the blender.

 

This was the result!

 

INGREDIENTS

--------------------------------

 

2-4 T. olive oil

2-3 T. bacon fat (or 1/2 cup of pancetta rendered)

2-3 T. balsamic vinegar

1 head of garlic, finely chopped

1/2 - 1 T. red pepper flakes

1/4 cup parmesan cheese

A pinch of sugar...

 

1 large portobello mushroom, diced

1 large portobello mushroom, sliced

1 T. butter

1 large can of whole peeled tomatoes (get fresh if you're making this in the summer)

1/2 white onion, diced

1 large carrot, diced

1-2 cups broccoli, quartered

 

This recipe is mostly inspired from an investigation into trying to make vegetarian dishes that taste amazing. I'm not a vegetarian, but I do believe that humans eat too much meat these days, so I've taken up the challenge of attempting vegetarian dishes that stand up to any dish, no excuses. Also, because I love vegetables.

 

DIRECTIONS

--------------------------------

SAUCE

So the first thing to do is get the sauce together. It can be made ahead of time and this yields enough that I'd recommend packing it away anyhow. I usually start pasta sauces with three crucial elements. Fat/oil, aromatic (in this case garlic), and heat/spice (red pepper flakes). This way you're flavoring the oil with the intensity of whatever robust flavors you want.

 

Heat up your bacon fat, or render your fatty pork in a large skillet over medium heat. Then add your olive oil, red pepper flakes and garlic. When the garlic is just starting to turn brown, throw in the onion. Make sure the garlic doesn't get past golden brown and then throw in the mushroom and the balsamic. Continue to sauté; once the mushroom is about 3/4 of what it was add your carrots. Now sauté this for a good bit, making sure the carrots release a little sugar and the mushrooms soak up some of that tasty fat/garlic.

 

After that pop in the can of whole tomatoes and start mashing them with your wooden spoon. Don't worry too much about size here but you want them opened and cut up so they trade flavors. You might want to turn up the heat just a notch or so here since now we're working with a sauce instead of a hash of sorts.

 

About 10-15 minutes in you should have what looks like a pretty rustic pasta sauce. This is good, so taste it. It's probably not salty enough, so add the parmesan cheese now. Taste it again, if it needs a bit more salt add some more cheese. It probably needs something else though, that something is sugar. Add a pinch. Better? Don't add too much but sugar will help. You can add some fresh cracked black pepper as well. Interact with your food here and tweak it, it's the difference-maker.

 

Once it tastes up to snuff, throw it in the blender bit by bit and get-a-blendin'. Taste it again, it'll probably be better because it's more homogenous now. You can still tweak the taste here, maybe it needs a bit more balsamic, or olive oil! Who knows, but you've gotta feel your food. Don't be afraid, just make small changes and test. Now onto the pasta.

 

PASTA & ETC.

I like thick spaghetti here for this sauce. Because the sauce is blended pretty well, spaghetti or any noodle is a nice choice for a lot of coverage. Ideally I'd love bucatini in this recipe, but sadly America hates bucatini. I have no idea why...

 

First off though, take those slices of portobello mushroom in a skillet over medium heat with a T. of butter and give them enough space to cook. Think of these guys like strips of meat. Brown them on both sides, toss with some salt and fresh-cracked pepper and you'll be eating these like candy.

 

Boil a big pot of water into a raging boil. Next add a handful- yes a handful of salt. It should taste like seawater. I'm not kidding. To save time, you can actually blanch the broccoli right here in the same water you're going to cook the pasta in. So just throw the broccoli in, after no more than 2 minutes, get it out with a slotted spoon. If you're picky about color, throw it in an ice-bath to stop the cooking process, otherwise just leave it out on the cutting board like I do.

 

Next throw your pasta in the water. Now, I'd of loved to make my own pasta here, but I'm still working on making my own noodles taste proper consistently. For this thick spaghetti it should take around 5-7 minutes to cook. Fish out a noodle from time to time and bite it. Look at it. In the center you should see a faint bit of lighter color, it's pretty much done there. Turn off the burner, pour the pot into a colander and put the drained pasta right back into the pot you were cooking in. Put a cup of sauce or whatever you prefer back into the pot with the pasta (not over a burner or anything) and mix it up.

 

Toss the broccoli in there and plate. Lay the portobellos over the pasta like you see in the picture and then sprinkle some more parmesan over the whole thing. Booya, you're done.

 

DIFFICULTY

--------------------------------

I know this is seems like a lot of work; it is; but this a good amount of sauce and will out last a mere box of pasta. You'll get a good 5-6 meals out of this recipe and the sauce keeps very well. I made this a week ago and I still have one serving left. Plus, it's full of vegetable goodness. It's pretty deep and meaty tasting with all the mushroom in there. Give it a shot! :)

Previously in zoo of giants after sneaking in to Marsha's habbitat Tommy and Dan made a

 

horrific discovery Marsha had been cut on her face Tommy ran in a panic to find some help the

 

crew heard Tommy's screams of panic so they rushed to the habbitat with all the noise Mia went

 

to investigate and looked in horror that her poor Marsha had been hurt Mia couldn't believe

 

what had happened she got mad and blamed Dan for what happend so the whole crew got some

 

medical supplies together and they aided the poor orangutan after hours and hours aiding the

 

poor orangutan Mia stayed up most of the night with her as the next day came everyone felt

 

they needed to speak about what happend Jayson was accused for what happend but he said

 

that Marsha had scrapped herself on a branch causing the scar everyone believed the story

 

except for Dan he had this feeling Jayson wasn't the person he thought he was after Dan

 

finished his second job he decided to shower but something stranged happen when he was in

 

the shower he overheard a conversation between Jayson and the person on the other line of his

 

phone he mentioned a powerful drug called Ketamine and a plan to take blood and furr but

 

something was a miss and Dan was going to go through length until he knew what was going

 

on...now the story continues...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautyful morning all was bright and everyone was at the canteen eating breakfast but

 

Dan kept an eye on Jayson "(Jayson) what...hey take a picture it'll last longer" "(Clair) Dan are

 

you ok because you keep looking at Jayson" Dan smiled at Clair "everythings fine...more coffee

 

Clair?" "(Clair) sure thanks" "(Becky) so hows Marsha doing and why isn't Mia eating with us"

 

"(Sam) she's having her breakfast with Marsha today she said what happend was a wake up call

 

and she should spend more time with herself and Marsha" "(Pop) come on leave the poor girl be

 

she's been through enouth remember those two have a strong connection and we should

 

support her and Marsha through times like this" "(Tommy) you're right Pop we should" "(Sam)

 

anyway...Mia gave me the list of jobs that need doing ok so Pop and Clair you can see to the

 

bats" "(Clair) aw no way...heh i hate bats" "(Sam) ok...well i didn't write these jobs im just

 

handing them out" "(Becky) don't worry Clair i'll see to the bats we'll trade how about it Sam"

 

"(Sam) well...Mia didn't say anything about job trading but i don't think she'll mind i mean a jobs

 

a job isn't it" "(Clair) oh thank you Becky" "(Becky) don't mention it i love bats" "(Sam) ok so

 

that means me and Jayson will do the Ostriches and last but not least Dan and Tommy will see

 

to the Koalas" "(Jayson) well i can't help out i got family problems and i would like to book my

 

day off if that's fine" "(Sam) hmm...well i don't know Mia is in charge of giving days off im just

 

the list girl" "hey Jayson what family problem is it" "(Jayson) it's no ones business" "(Sam) you

 

gotta tell use why you want this day off no excuses" "(Jayson) ok ok it's...my aunt she forgot

 

her heart pills and her heart gave out" "(Sam) what...she died?" "(Jayson) i don't know i need to

 

go please Sam just this one thing please" "(Sam) *sigh* fine looks like i'll have to see to the

 

ostriches myself" Jayson got up and walked away "(Sam) ok everyone good luck and give it

 

you're best" Sam said with a thumbs up everyone got up and got to their jobs "hey Tommy

 

come on lets go" "(Tommy) but...arnt the Koalas this way?" "the Koalas will live we need to find

 

out where Jayson is heading please Tommy you're my last hope" "(Tommy) aw Dan this again

 

please lets just see to the Koalas...is this just an excuse because you don't want to see the

 

Koalas?" "no it's not something isn't right about Jayson i have this gut feeling somethings up

 

please Tommy" "(Tommy) *sigh* fine we'll go but just to see we still got a job to do" "yeah sure

 

now come on we need to follow him quick to my car we go" so the two ran out of the zoo and

 

into Dan's car he took off and saw Jayson in his car the two followed him along the dusty road

 

until he made a stop at a run down diner the two slowly drove closer and saw Jayson exit his

 

vehicle and enter the diner "(Tommy) what in the...why is he here the place looks run down" "i

 

knew something wasn't right about him" "(Tommy) but i don't get it why is he here" "ah Tommy

 

don't you get it he's here to get his shipment of Ketamine..." "(Tommy) aw Dan not this again i

 

don't see anything that relates to that here and i don't see any large shipments of drugs just let

 

it be Dan please four years Dan four years he's worked with us now come on lets go back before

 

we get found out and get in trouble just let it go ok" "fine but not until i see for myself whats

 

inside that diner" Dan got out his car and ran to the diner "(Tommy) *sigh* im a zoo keeper not a

 

double agent" Tommy got out of his car and ran over to Dan into the diner only to find out that

 

nothing is in there "(Tommy) you see empty just a dump of a run down diner nothing to get

 

curious about" "impossible i saw him go into the diner" "(Tommy) maybe he had to use the

 

toilets can we go please" "aw fine we'll go" Dan and Tommy returned to the zoo and they

 

bumped into Mia "(Mia) what are you two doing here haven't you got jobs to do" "(Tommy) yes

 

we have but...well..." "well me and Tommy were talking about mottors and i had to show him my

 

bad boy which runs at high horsepower" "(Mia)...aha well ok but you two are lacking behind on

 

jobs so get to it" "(Tommy) will do" Dan and Tommy walked away "(Tommy) (great cover up

 

Dan) the two got to the Koala enclosure they enterd through the door into a giant jungled area

 

"great why couldn't we work with something alot smaller than a Koala" "(Tommy) heh don't tell

 

me you're scared of a small Koala they are just as gentle as a panda" "yes but they are a

 

hundred times my size and i have never seen a Koala" "(Tommy) are you serious you've never

 

seen a Koala?" "well...i know what one looks like but i've never been close to one or had to work

 

with one" "(Tommy) aha you mean you never been in contact with a Koala heh heh" "ok ok i

 

came off stupid heh" the two headed for the jeep and drove through the jungle "ok so tell me

 

about Koala's" "(Tommy) well i don't know much but they seem to eat alot of leaves but not any

 

leaves they only eat eucalyptus leaves if they don't have those leaves then they will starve they

 

seem to be kind of fussy and they can be kind of nervious around people so we might need to

 

keep our distance" "so why are we doing this job if there is nothing to do" "(Tommy) we do

 

have a job we're making sure that the animals are doing ok...right this is the place" Tommy

 

stopped the jeep and the two got out Dan looked around to see where the Koala is after looking

 

all around he found nothing "i can't see it Tommy are you sure it's here" "(Tommy) yes Dan it is

 

here we just haven't seen it yet don't worry she'll come out he's just shy that's all i bet he knows

 

we're here he must be hiding i guess" all of a sudden there was a rustle from above and alot of

 

strange sounds "(Tommy) heh...what was that?" "i could ask you the same question" "(Tommy)

 

Dan this is strange i've never heard that sound before" "stop it Tommy you're freaking me out"

 

"(Tommy) im serious Dan this is new to me" the loud noise could be heard again "woh ok i need

 

to get out of here" "(Tommy) hold it Dan we were given a job to take care of the Koala's im not

 

leaveing them something could of happend we need to find out but if you wanna go i won't stop

 

you" "ah im not going to leave you here all by you're self ok i'll help" "(Tommy) ok great now

 

lets investigate" so Dan and Tommy followed the eerie noises they went deeper into the jungle

 

after what felt like an hour they made it to a lake "(Tommy) what in the...when did Mia put a lake

 

in here?" "wait all this time working here and you've never noticed it?" "(Tommy) nope

 

never...hey wait over their it's one of the Koala's" the two ran to the Koala as they got close the

 

Koala gave out a ear piercing sound "ahhh ahh stop screaming" "(Tommy) ahh ok ok please

 

stop what's wrong" the Koala pointed up to the tree and continued screaming they could see

 

piles of leaves "(Tommy) what you want the leaves right...ok ok we'll get you the leaves"

 

"what...how are we going to get up their?" "you'll have to climb Dan" "me why me?" "(Tommy) i

 

can't im afraid of hights please Dan" "ok ok..." so Dan walked over to the tree and he started his

 

climb he climbed and climbed until he made it to the top after reaching the top he ripped some

 

of the leaves off their steams and he threw them down to Tommy Tommy picked the leaves up

 

and waved them in front of the Koala she looked at the leaves and began screaming again

 

"(Tommy) AHH DAN YOU GOT THE WRONG LEAVES SHE NEEDS THE EUCALYPTUS LEAVES"

 

"IM SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT EUCALYPTUS LEAVES LOOKS LIKE" "(Tommy) THEY ARE

 

THICK AND ON THE TWIGS YOU WILL SEE A BUNCH OF SMALL BROWN BALLS THEY ARE

 

HUGE YOU WON'T MISS THEM" Dan looked around to find the leaves he looked around until he

 

could spot some after all the looking Dan had finally found some on another branch being eaten

 

by another Koala "aw jeez this isn't my day is it" Dan tried to ballance and walk across the big

 

branch so he could reach to the other he then jumped from the end and landed on the other

 

branch he looked straight ahead and saw the big Koala eating some of the leaves Dan slowly

 

walked over to the Koala "heh oo..kay ok nice Koala good Koala be a good Koala ok listen can

 

you spare me some leaves please i need some for a friend" the Koala looked at Dan with haste

 

he put the leaves to one side and moved closer to Dan he moved his head close and started

 

sniffing at him Dan was trembling in fear "ok it's ok im not going to hurt you...just need some

 

leaves "(Tommy) DAAAN HURRY UP MY EARS ARE GOING TO EXPLODE" the Koala stopped

 

sniffing and looked down over at Tommy the Koala began making a loud noise Dan had to cover

 

his ears the Koala turned to Dan then he looked at his leaves he grabbed some of the leaves by

 

his side then he grabbed Dan "woh what are you doing...im sorry for disturbing you please i'll

 

leave" the Koala made it down the tree with Dan and the leaves and got to Tommy and the

 

female Koala the male Koala handed the leaves over to the female Koala the female Koala

 

stopped screaming "heh ok can you put me down now" the male Koala moved Dan to his face

 

and started eyeing him he then started making loud noises looking at the female Koala the

 

female Koala got curious and grabbed Dan away from the male Koala she looked at Dan and

 

then started sniffing at him the male Koala looked at Tommy he then picked Tommy up

 

"(Tommy) ahh...heh ahh put me down...put me doown" "don't fight it Tommy you'll never get

 

away" "(Tommy) Dan this is weird why is this happening it's never happend before i...i blame

 

you for this" "you told me to climb that tree you told me to get some stupid leaves and i did" the

 

female Koala sat down with her leaves and started eating away she then ripped a small piece

 

and handed it to Dan "heh ok umm...thanks i guess" "(Tommy) eat it Dan don't be rude haha"

 

"heh ok ok" Dan put the leaf in his mouth and started eating at it "ahh god that's disscusting"

 

"(Tommy) HAHA but it's nutritious the male Koala started throwing Tommy in the air "(Tommy)

 

AHH NO STOOOP PLEASE!!!" the Koala grabbed Tommy as he dropped he then threw him in

 

the air again but this time the Koala didn't catch him and he fell right into the pile of leaves that

 

was in the Koala's lap Tommy stood up to regain his vision after being thrown he was all dizzy

 

the Koala paid no more attention to Tommy and decided to have some lunch so he grabbed a

 

leaf and put it in his mouth he began chewing on it the taste and smell of the leaves were to die

 

for nothing like the taste and smell of the eucalyptus leaves Tommy climbed from the giant leaf

 

to the Koalas leg after climbing he jumped on the ground and tried to get away but as he could

 

get any further a giant shadow loomed over him he turned his head only to see the giant hand

 

of the Koala "(Tommy) AHHH" Tommy was grabbed and brought close to the Koala's face the

 

Koala moved his nose close to Tommy and started sniffing at him he kept sniffing him Tommy

 

was getting a little scared from the Koala's behavour after giving a few sniffs the Koala stopped

 

and just held Tommy in one place "(Tommy) heh..o.ok put me down put me down now that's

 

enough playing" the Koala just looked at Tommy the Koala gave a slight smile at Tommy he

 

opend his mouth slowly and started moving Tommy closer to his open mouth Tommy looked in

 

horror as he was getting closer to the big open mouth of the Koala "(Tommy) AHHH NOO

 

PLEASE DON'T EAT ME NOOO!!!!" Dan looked over and saw Tommy about to get eaten "oh no

 

ooh no no no" Dan tried his best to break free from the grasp of the female Koala he kicked his

 

legs until he was able to move he then fell to the ground and ran straight to the male Koala he

 

looked up he had to do something or Tommy would end up in the Koala's mouth "umm" Dan

 

looked at the side of the Koala and saw one of the leaves he picked it up and started waveing it

 

in the air and started shouting "HERE HERE LOOK A TASTY LEAF!!!" Dan ran closer to the

 

Koala without watching his step he slipped on the leaf he was lied down on his stomach on the

 

leaf which got the Koala's attention the Koala looked down at Dan lied down on the leaf Dan got

 

up on his feet he had to do something so he quickly ran to the Koala he jumped up and grabbed

 

on to the Koala's tummy he started climbing to Tommy's rescue but things took a turn for the

 

worse as the Koala noticed Dan climbing so he reach down to his tummy and grabbed Dan he

 

now had Dan and Tommy in each hand he moved Dan close to his nose and began giving big

 

sniffs at Dan now Dan and Tommy were both stuck in the grasps of the giant Koala "(Tommy)

 

WAAH DAN WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!?!" "I...I DON'T KNOW" "(Tommy) LISTEN DAN...IF

 

WE DON'T MAKE IT I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IT WAS A PLEASURE WORKING WITH

 

YOU" as Dan and Tommy were stuck the Koala raised both hands over to his wide open mouth

 

the two screamed in terror as they got closer and closer something strange began to happen a

 

big loud alarm sounded and the whole area started to flash with brightly colored lights the

 

Koala's started to act out making screeching noises the Koala loosened his grip on the two

 

humans and fled through the trees and out of the blue Clair and Mia drove over to the two "(Mia)

 

GET IN" Dan and Tommy rushed into the truck and Mia put her foot down on the gas and got

 

out of the area "(Mia) are you two crazy" Mia pushed a button on a remote and the alarm and

 

flashing lights stopped "(Mia) you two should be considered lucky if we didn't get there in time

 

you two would of been eaten by now" "yeah...thanks" "(Tommy) how did you know we were in

 

trouble" "(Clair) we have camaras" "(Mia) yes we do and lucky for you Pop was in charge so he

 

called us in time to go save you two so we sounded the alarm to frightened off the two Koala's

 

but because you never knew this we will let it go but the eucalyptus leaves are a Koala's favorite

 

food they go bonkers for it but it's mostly for it's moist tender smell which attracts them the

 

most and you two dummies got that smell on you by falling into the leaves making you a tasty

 

snack for them to eat" a few tears started streaming down Tommy's face "(Clair) aww Tommy

 

you're crying" "(Mia) it's ok Tommy you're not in trouble i was just saying" "(Tommy) *cry* no

 

it's not that it's...well that Koala was about to eat me Dan had the opportunity to run but he

 

didn't he turned around and he tried to save me not thinking about his own safety" "well of

 

course Tommy i couldn't just stand there and let you get eaten could i" "(Tommy) *sniffs*

 

sometimes i think is my life worth saving but now i realised that how much kindness is around

 

and it's nice to see that others care" "aw don't say that the thing is i failed to save you so don't

 

think highly of me because us both were about to get eaten no matter what the real heros are

 

Mia and Clair for showing up in time" "(Mia) sorry Dan but Tommy is right i mean i won't lie to you both but you both nearly died today but you see Tommy could of died and you could of made it back alive Dan but you chose to stay and die with Tommy in an attempt to rescue him now that was a selfless act of bravery and you should be proud of yourself" Tommy and Clair looked at Dan in a whole new way they looked at him like he was a hero and he was the lot made it back in one piece and they walked away "(Mia) come on lets have some dinner im starved it's chicken tonight and i cannot wait to get some of that everyone went into the canteen and sat down "(Jayson) bout time you lot showed dinners getting cold" Dan gave a cold look at Jayson "(Pop) oh thank god you two are safe i was worried sick" "(Becky) ...what happend?" "...it's nothing we're fine ok just forget about it ok" "(Sam) we can't just forget about it Pop bought it up in the conversation" "(Becky) so what happend?" "(Mia) well...Dan and Tommy...they were attacked by a Koala" "(Becky) attacked?" "*sigh* yes were were attacked a Koala nearly ate me and Tommy..." "(Becky) oh my gosh" "(Tommy) yeah the Koala nearly ate me whole but Dan swooped in tried to climb up the Koala but the Koala saw Dan and it grabbed him it had the both of us...Dan...Dan...and me nearly died...Dan nearly died trying to save me..." "(Sam) well good thing Pop was manning the surveillance or you two would still be in the belly of the Koala now" "(Becky) don't joke about that Sam it was hard for them and a terrifying experiance for the both of them so..so just back off with all the jokes ok because you're not funny" "(Sam)...you want a go at me...YOU WANT A GO AT ME!!!" Becky stood up and slammed the table "(Becky) IM HERE IF YOU WANT ME YOU TRAMP" "(Mia) THAT'S ENOUGH YOU TWO" Becky sat down she was trembling with anger "(Mia) now don't let this incident spoil our meal lets just calm down and enjoy our selfs now it would be a sad day if we lost Tommy and Dan but we didn't now lets put our glasses together and celebrate their lives ok" "(Pop) here here" every clanked their glasses together and ate their meal after that it was night time Dan was in the bathroom brushing his teeth after brushing he walked out of the bathroom and he could hear slight talking sounds coming from outside so he decided to investigate Dan snuck outside slightly opening one of the double doors of the entrance and he looked around to see what could be heard he snuck over to the corner of the building and could see Jayson "(Jayson) ok get this stuff loaded make sure to hide it in the place i told you got that?" "(Thug) right" "(Jayson) ahh Mr Jags it's a pleasure to meet you in person sir" "(Jags) yes the pleasure is all mine...now do you have the fur i asked for" "(Jayson) n.no not yet sir i can't even get close to that Orangutan that damn woman won't move away for it" "(Jags) that displeases me but it shouldn't be a problem i will talk to this woman myself now in other matters i have yet another task for you" "(Jayson) umm...anything sir anything" "(Jags) ok i need the blood of a tiger" "(Jayson) what...no sir no i can't it's like you're telling me to kill myself for this project i can't do that" Jags clicked his fingers and two thugs pinned Jayson to the wall Jags smiled at Jayson and hobbled over to him he removed his eye patch "(Jags) listen you see my eye?" "(Jayson)n.n.no sir i don't" "(Jags) NO YOU DON'T BECAUSE I LOST THAT EYE FIGHTING A TIGER IN PERU blood spurted everywhere as the tiger tried to take a bite out of my face my look is dissolving and if you don't do as i say i will have no choice but to remove you're eye with my clawed hand NOW GET ME THAT TIGERS BLOOD YOU HAVE TWO DAYS" "(Jayson) y.yes sir yes i will" "(Jags) good now you listen to me for this kind of behaviour take this as a warning" Jags moved his clawed hand over to Jaysons face and then he slit his face "(Jayson) AHHH AHHH...AHH" "(Jags) take that as a warning next time you won't be so lucky AND MAKE SURE YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT SNOOPING LITTLE BRAT STANDING BY THE CORNER" Jags and his thugs took off Jayson looked by the corner and saw Dan he rushed over and grabbed Dan by the throat "(Jayson) now listen ok say anything at all you're dead say anything to Mia and she's dead ok get in my way and all the people you care for will die" Jayson let go of Dan and stormed away "(Jayson) AND STOP SNOOPING ON ME" Dan didn't know what he saw but he did not like it he got inside and into bed he felt speechless he had to do something but he didn't know what to do or who to turn to this was bad "...im no hero"

 

___TO BE CONTINUED___

Rai Pawpad rolls to one side, watching them. He's whispering softly. "They don't know what they're doin. Don't know that the wrath of the King is comin down on their heads."

 

Rai Pawpad jumps up and slams himelf into the side of their cage.

 

Jaina Lefevre edges closer to the bed and bows her head, crying silently.

 

Rai Pawpad crawls halfway up the chainlink, shaking it and making a feral sound, somewhere between a shout and a yowl.

 

Jaina Lefevre sniffle-whispers. "I'm sorry Rai. If'n you wasn't with me, you wouldn't be gonna dyin' too."

 

Rai Pawpad drops down from the fence, his tail swishing, his eyes dark.

 

Rai Pawpad: "No one's dyin, Jaina. No one but them."

 

Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Th'Director...that's that ass-brink guy what tried t'steal me in the hopspittle." She leans on the bed edge and scrubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

 

Rai Pawpad: The fact that she'd scared finally penetrates his own fear driven rage, and he crouches down next to her. "It's gonna be okay, Princess. Look at me...It's gonna be.

 

Jaina Lefevre looks up at him and her lower lip quivers, tears streaming down her face. "Rai...this is bad. This is really really bad. I been hidin' so many places, Mommy won't even knowed I'm gone."

 

Rai Pawpad reaches out to her, pulling her into a hug. He brushes her tears with the back of his hand. "Listen. " His eyes are dilated and intense. "The Prince and the Princess always get rescued. It's in all the books."

 

Jaina Lefevre tries to find comfort in that. She really does. "This ain't a book, Rai." she whispers. "This is the bad pictures only I'm not sleepin'."

 

Rai Pawpad holds her tighter. "It isn't just the books. The bones of the Sleeping King talk to me." He doesn't admit that often. "And I know we're gonna live to take our kingdom." He looks over his shoulder. "And if your mom doesn't find us...the tengu will."

 

Jaina Lefevre looks at him, confused. "The bones...sleeping king? What?" She doesn't understand. "What do you mean?"

 

Rai Pawpad looks impatient. "Well you know that the True King of Midian is sleepin under the city. I told you that."

 

Jaina Lefevre chews her lip. "You found bones under the city? There's lotsa dead stuff. I'm tryin' to unnerstand, Rai."

 

Rai Pawpad: "He's been there so long that his bones are rocks. And he was a giant, so they spread under all the city." He sits back a little. "You know how the old kings wer always giants?"

 

Jaina Lefevre nods a little bit. "An' he talks to you? How does he talks to you?" She's calming a little with his 'story', and the fact that she's not locked inhere alone this time.

 

Rai Pawpad rocks a bit holding her. His eyes go distant, looking at a spot over her shoulder. "Well, sometimes, I go down into the deep parts. You know? Where the bones are. And I think about things, very hard. Sometimes, because I'm the Prince, I hear words tellin me what to do."

 

Jaina Lefevre swallows a little and nods, clinging to him and rocking with him. "What kinda stuff does he tell you? Because I get those kindsa words when I read. Like ideas in my head."

 

Rai Pawpad purrs a little. "He tells me to watch my people. To take care of the little ones, even when I don't like em. He told me what to do with the UAC, but I didn't listen."

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "What did he tell you to do?"

 

Rai Pawpad pulls back and looks at her. "He said, "What do you do when you're killin a snake? Only he said it different, like.."When slaying a venomous serpent..." Anyway, he said, what do you do first? And I said, "You cut off it's head."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches his face, searcihng his eyes. "So...we gots ta kill the Director." she nods quietly. "And we gotta whisper and not let them read our lips 'cause there is cam'ras in here."

 

Rai Pawpad blinks and looks around, this never having occurred to him. He drops his head close to hers and his voice is a whisper too, "That's the word of the King."

 

Jaina Lefevre gives him a little smile. "R'memeber the thing RIver stole? It had the pictures of what that Assbag did t'me in here. From the cameras...up there." She flicks a glance to the corners of the room, outside the cage. "But they couldn't sees me when I was under the bed."

 

Rai Pawpad growls. "He's gonna have ta get past me to hurt you again." He looks at her. "What did you do under the bed?"

 

Jaina Lefevre: "Hid. In the back corner. He was shottin' me with big ball bear-rings. It was th'only place I could hide."

 

Rai Pawpad lets her go and rushes to slam himself, snarling, against the chainlink again. "You mothersuckbastardfuckers! "

 

Jaina Lefevre calls out "Rai! It's not gonna help! You just get hurted." She is scared by his anger, curling smaller.

 

Rai Pawpad slams against it so hard it vibrates, and he bounces back holding his shoulder.

 

Jaina Lefevre cries out and covers her head, huddling smaller still.

 

Rai Pawpad leans against the bars, closing his eyes against his tears. They're tears of impotent anger, but embarrassing all the same. Still, they're better than the fear he keeps stuffing down. His ear flicks at Jaina's cry and he pulls himself off the bars, swiping the back of his hand on his face,

 

Jaina Lefevre keeps her head tucked and huddles small, shivering now and then. She's not looking up to watch him hurt himself, and when her eyes are closed...it's not quite so scary...sort of. A little. Maybe.

 

Rai Pawpad crouches down to pull her to him. "You want a hug? I ...I kinda do."

 

Jaina Lefevre crawls against him and shivers. "Hugs good. Let's grab the blanket and crawl under the bed? I wanna hide."

 

Rai Pawpad nods, stands up and rips all the bedding off both the bunks. He pushes it under the bed, carefully arranging it into a nest. He pulls his head out. "Yeah, okay."

 

Jaina Lefevre grins at him a little and crawls under there with him, curling up in the soft darkness, pressing herself tight to him. "No eyes in here and we can be safer." she whispers.

 

Rai Pawpad puts his arm around her, but he can't manage to purr. "Yeah, it's better under here."

 

Jaina Lefevre breathes soft and quiet for a while, then kisses his cheek. "I'm sorries, Rai."

 

Rai Pawpad shifts and rubs his cheek on hers. "Why are you sorry?"

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers "Cause you got captured too, and they is gonna hurt us.. Bad. They -likes- hurtin' people. He liked hurtin' me..." She shivers, voice thick with tears.

 

Rai Pawpad tightens his arm around her. "I'm not scared." This is a blatant lie, and the shake in his voice makes that evident. "And they're not gonna get to hurt us. Cause....someone's gonna come."

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "Who? Momma don't knowed we're here. Tengu can't come. They ain't gonna knowed until we're gone whiles."

 

Rai Pawpad rocks a little. "Shhh." He doesn't like her talking sense this way. "The King won't let us stay here. You'll see."

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "Maybe if we're lucky they will forgets for a whiles? I'm tired, Rai. Tired of hurtin, tired of bein' scared. I thought Mommies would makes it better."

 

Rai Pawpad pets Jaina's head, but it's awkward with the springs so close. He keeps a steady purr in his chest. "You can sleep, Princess. If you're tired. I'll keep watchin."

 

Jaina Lefevre pulls some of the blanket around her feet and shoulder, burrowing into Rai's chest and letting out a soft breath. "Okay. Then I watch and you sleep." she smiles a little and lets out a soft breath. At least, under the bed, there's no cameras. The nest of bedding a comfort.

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers after a bit. "Can't sleep..." she sighs. "You think they is gonna gives us water or food or somethin?"

 

Rai Pawpad feels Jai exhale, relaxing under his arm. He hopes she can sleep. He can't. He keeps up a purr to lull her, but his eyes are wide open, catching the light. He looks down at her whisper. "No. They probly won't. We're prisnors."

 

Laurick Scarbridge pushed open the door, having gone into another room before that, but not actually being able to do that. He brought in a tray of what looked like two glasses of water, and a couple things of rations. He walked to the prison cage, and ran his gloved fingertips along the metal, "Hm, maybe you should wake up, you little snots."

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "I think there's someone out there." She tugs a bit of blanket aside and spies the soldier's boots.

 

Rai Pawpad crawls out from under the bed, and hits the chainlink snarling. "Let us go, you mothersuckingbastard!"

 

Jaina Lefevre crawls out just far enough to look, then crawls out and sits back in the corner against the bed. She doesn't say anything, just stares.

 

Laurick Scarbridge shakes his head, "Can't do that, midget. I've got orders just to feed you, give you water, and tell you a bedtime story about how you're going to be turned into a marvelous mutant of crippling genetic proportions. Likely a drooling one with mangled teeth."

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "I bet his mommy didn't love him."

 

Rai Pawpad looks up at the man, seething. "I'm gonna remember this, you know. Gonna remember you, when I come into my power. You're gonna regret treatin the Prince of Midian like this."

 

Laurick Scarbridge leans down toward Rai .. and spits in his face through the cage, "You'll be the prince of poverty, and I'll be the pauper of pyrotechnics. Kwa hoo hoo hoo!" He stood up after that, and walked over to the door, dragging the tray with him. He pressed a few buttons on the panel, and slid it into the room, just enough so that he could grab it when it was opened soon after - and then the door immediately shut behind the rolling tray.

 

Rai Pawpad wipes his face with great dignity. It's not the first time.

 

Jaina Lefevre moves towards the cage warily and grabs the tray to roll it back from the door in case the guy decides to change his mind. She opens it warily, afraid of what might be on there for food. "Come smell this in case it's got drugs in it?"

 

Rai Pawpad wipes the back of his hand on his pants, and turns to smell the tray. He crouches down, snuffing all over it. "Nothin I can smell. Go ahead, Princess. Eat it." He sits back on his heels, waiting till she's had what she wants.

 

Jaina Lefevre sips at the water first, then picks at a little of the food, offering bites to Rai. "You gotta eat too. We gotta not get sick or they really hurts you." She eyes the soldier warily.

 

Laurick Scarbridge folds his arms and then leaned back against the wall watching the two younglings. He looked to his left side, and tapped his foot while he stood there, starting to whistle a familiar tune to himself.

 

Rai Pawpad shakes his head. "I go without eatin more than you do. You eat. " He reaches for the water. "I"ll take some of that, though."

 

Jaina Lefevre doesn't eat very much, and pushes the tray closer to Rai, sipping at the water slowly. She wants to make -that- last. Crying and screaming makes you thirsty!

 

Rai Pawpad takes what she didn't eat, and bundles it in the remnants of a greasy napkin. He crawls under the bed to hide it.

 

Laurick Scarbridge continued to stand there, tapping his foot on the wall, and whistling to himself. He reached up and tapped at his mic for a few moments, and then looked back to the children as they ate and did whatever it is they were doing. Storing food, just in case they were here that long. "Kwa hoo hoo hoo! You're assuming you're going to /live/ that long!"

 

Jaina Lefevre pushes the tray closer to the cage, keeping the cups of water. "Yeah 'cause my Moms is gonna make y'all wish you never seen a kid."

 

Rai Pawpad shuffles out from under the bed, and turns to look at the man over his shoulder. "No. But it never hurts to be prepared."

 

Laurick Scarbridge leans in a bit and taps at the tip of his nose, "You want to know a secret, midgets?"

 

Jaina Lefevre smiles ever so sweetly at him. "What? That my Mom has bigger balls than you?" Scared, yes...but she's angry.

 

Laurick Scarbridge grins in a completely unfashionable way, the pure lunacy in the man's eyes becoming perfectly cleer at that moment, "We are the Union Aerospace Corporation's Marine detatchment, and Scientific detatchment. We are part of the World Trade Union. The only reason that this whole city hasn't been lit up into a giant ball of fire, is because of a nice little thing called Political Correctness. This whole city is already dead, and that includes your mommy. Kwa hoo hoo hoo!"

 

Rai Pawpad steps up to the fence, his eyes dilated, his grin amost matching the man's "No, you dumbass. It's because Midian is the Great City, that was foretold. And the Sleeping King still lies beneath it. It can't be destroyed."

 

Jaina Lefevre watches the two of them and backs into the corner to slide down to sit again. "Mom is gonna make you cry." she murmurs. "Cry lots and lots."

 

Laurick Scarbridge snorts and just starts having a laughing fit, "Midian is a rocky shithole in a crapsack world. The only thing holding it together is that the World Trade Union is afraid of commiting an attrocity against the Hybrid race, which has taken up here. The suits up top don't want another New England on their hands." He leaned forward and grinned at Rai in such a cold way, that it might not even be fair to call it a grin, "I don't cry, and I don't believe in fairy tales. This world burns in the end. You're already dead. Make peace with it. You'll be happier."

 

Rai Pawpad looks right up into his face. "I am the Prince of Midian. I'm gonna bring the Great City out of darkness and wake the Sleeping King." He snarls. "And I'm happy."

 

Laurick Scarbridge lights up with that next statement of Rai's and stands up against the wall. He just watches the young boy for a few seconds, and replies, "You can't bring something from the darkness of which is nothing. This city will burn, and so will your sleeping King, and your snot covered teddy bear."

 

Jaina Lefevre lifts her chin. "Maybe he's one of them Youaysee 'speriments that got out, Rai. Better stay back. I hear'ed they rot and parts falls off sometimes." She nods seriously at the guy, just watching him.

 

Rai Pawpad flicks his tail angrily. "So? Burnin doesn't end anythin! Doesn't end the King. He's seen more fires than you've seen..... anything." He ignores the bear comment, he hasn't had a teddy in at least three years.

 

Laurick Scarbridge looks at Rai for a longer few seconds, and just starts whistling that same familiar tune that he had been before. He looked away from the boy, apparently done with the conversation, his left hand's index finger tapped one of the grenades on his belt.

 

Jaina Lefevre shoves the tray against the door and looks at Ray. "Come on..let's go sleep. He smells like poo anyway."

 

Rai Pawpad turns away fence, disturbed. "Yeah, he's a ratbastard."

 

Laurick Scarbridge finally stands up from the wall, and stops whistling. He walks over to the panel, and activates it, opening the door. He tugs the tray through the open door, and closes it soon after - presuming that the two didn't make a break for it.

 

Jaina Lefevre whispers. "He's kinda creepy." She crawls back under the bed with Rai.

 

Laurick Scarbridge pulled the tray through at that, and started away from them, "See you later, midgets." His hand moving up to wave at them, as he operated the access panel, and opened the door.

 

Jaina Lefevre backs into the corner and whispers. "He teases us like we could get out. You heared how many doors with locks there was between here and outside?"

 

Rai Pawpad nestles deeper into the pile of bedding under the bunk, and pulls Jaina close. "He's bad. Full of corrupshen. Don't talk to him."

 

Jaina Lefevre burrows in and pulls blankets around her and tucks her head under his chin. Sleep comes slowly...but it does eventually come.

 

Rai Pawpad stays awake a while longer, watching. His eyes do close, though.

 

Life's muleskinners work us two ways--with the carrot and with the stick. It's wonderful to win praise and honors, but the same hands that pat you on the back will slap you on the butt when you're not doing what they want you to do.

 

"A gold medal is a nice thing - but if you're not enough without it, you'll never be enough with it,"--"Cool Runnings".

 

This came up in a recent conversation with a friend, about how we get manipulated by praise and blame, the Fame/Shame game.

 

It took me back, to years ago in the Army. After a long, tough day, we were told to clean our weapons and then check them in with the Armory (the gun locker). Our lieutenant was sitting inside, inspecting each rifle, and then scolding each soldier, chastising us for the filthy firing chambers, the powder still in the barrel, the mud on the swivels and straps.

Of course, they were as clean as they always were--it wasn't about cleaning the rifles, it was about lording his power over us, proving to us once again how unworthy we were, extending our misery a few hours longer--to make us into something he wanted (better soldiers I suspect he thought).

 

It was obvious he was going to make this a long and miserable evening, so I shrugged to myself and realized that while I may be stuck in the barracks, he was stuck in the quartermaster's office, which was no more comfortable than my spot. So I sat back, and started reading my mail. My platoon buddies were horrified, "Davis, ya gotta clean your gun!" Yeh. Yeh. Right.

 

After a few hours, the lieutenant tired, and the rifles began to meet his standards. I brought mine in (in the same condition as when he'd rejected it before), and he smugly checked it out, "good job, Davis--I knew you had it in you. It should look like this all the time!" The irony, of course, was that it always did.

 

"Great tranquility of heart is his who cares for neither praise nor blame." ~Thomas à Kempis

 

We wouldn't care so much what people thought of us, if we realized how seldom we ever cross their minds. Give up trying to campaign for election in the eyes of others, and suddenly you may find yourself King. And pay no attention to what others say, monuments are never erected to the critics.

  

"It's all right now, I've learned my lesson well. You see you can't please everyone, so ya gotta please yourself." Rick Nelson. Garden Party

Me

   

Well, a joke with possibly a good cause in mind..below is the actual text of the listing.

"A delightful & well aired example of some furniture that has definitely seen better days, in fact it's fair to say that it's minging. Included in this sale are the large patches of mildew, some rainwater & an assortment of field rodents that will have by now no doubt have moved in, all at no extra cost to the purchasor.

 

An early viewing is highly recommended & the suite can presently be seen to the eastern side of Down Road on the way to West Kington just off the A420 Nr Marshfield, Wilts. Buyer collects 'cos there's no way I'm ruining my car & due to it's unsecure location I am unable to guarantee it will still be there before the end of sale. Any proceeds will go to charity or behind the bar".

 

Questions and answers.

 

Q: Damn, gotta get me some of that leather action. Goes well with my bitches when we're getting down listening to the man Isaac Hayes & his Shaft soundtrack....

A: How refreshing & sartorially put! I wish you luck in your quest for 'bitches & leather' while you listen to the very talented Mr. Hayes, of which I possess several copies of his work, the pinnacle of which I believe is 'Chocolate Salty Balls' which he recorded under the pseudonym 'Chef' from the comic strip South Park. Happy Bidding & please look at my new listing! Best

Q: hi i dont think that carpet goes with the sofa ! i think this sofa could be made from cow hide !

A: Regrettably the carpet isn’t included in the auction although if you make a fair, balanced offer I’m sure we could accommodate, how much of it did you want? By the look of the picture we could run to a fair few acres. The cow hiding can be seen as a feint dot just above the left shoulder of the sofa (as we view it) Happy bidding & please look at my other items! Best

Q: Hello again, I see I've been outbid on this item! I have changed my mind about the pallet & brick/sofa combination and now would like to purchase and keep it where it is either as a Britart statement entitled "MY EBAY" akin to Tracey Emin's "MY BED" or alternatively as a Conservation Area for the rare noturnal creature "Neandertalis Maximus Ignoramus" more commonly known as the "Lesser Spotted Flytipper". Please could you tell me that "If I build it they will come", and also if you have seen any other creatures of interest that might persuade me to increase my bid. Thanks Ang x

A: Dear Grandly716, Yes it does indeed seem that you've been beaten in the bids, by some campanologist I see! With regards to the art installation I also noticed the similarity in the pieces random arrangement, although I noticed more of an 'Hommage' to Colombian sculptor Doris Salcedo, who you will recall in 2003 presented her installation '1600 chairs' at the 8th International Istanbul Biennial where she randomly & somewhat precariously stacked, er, 1600 wooden chairs between 2 buildings on an unremarkable downtown street. Why only the gods know. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: I'm glad you haven't employed a feng shui consultant to advise on marketing as i'm sure that would have placed bidding well beyond my means. I've bid £2.23 as i'm not sure how much a pint of beer is nowadays.

A: I'm pleased that you've noticed the venerable art at work here. My Feng Shui Masters (Far Kyou & Yure An Arze) are in discussions as to whether the 'Al Fresco' situation maximises the positive energy within the chakra's & Lei lines. Pint of beer at least £3.50. Well for a reasonable strength one. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: I am so laughing. You brought a smile to my face and a giggle to my belly, but i cant believe someone has actually bid on them.....thankyou for cheering me up.

A: Be here to witness the sale end & the successful bidder collecting, especially if it’s becksybarnes in his Great Aunts pickup. Now that will be funny…. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: Hi, Love the sofa it would definitely give the shabby chi(t)c look my half renovated house deserves. Why finish a job when there are so many more that can be started and left! The only thing missing is a coffee table to put the Tennents Super/Special Brew/Meths on. Could you check if there is an old pallet and a few bricks to complete the ensemble. Thanks for your time, x

A: I’ll have a rummage in the hedgerow for nature’s bounty knows no ends. If I can’t find a pallet, bricks & a 4 pack of Special Brew would you settle for a bottle of Thunderbird & Ray Mears? Happy Bidding! Best

Q: I dont suppose you know if there are any matching or colour co-ordinating scatter cushions near by, have you looked in the ditch opposite or maybe in the next layby.Have you contacted the palace as wills and kate are probably looking for furniture for their new home, they are probably strapped for cash after coughing up for the wedding.

A: I don’t recall any extra soft furnishings or cushions although Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen & Gok Wan were in an adjacent haystack getting very heated over the benefits of floral fabric patterns in scatter throws, or so they said. With regards to the royal wedding I’m sure the dress code states 3 piece suit but I’ll double check my invite. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: Could you tell me whether the armchairs fart when you sit down in them similar to those favoured by Reggie Perrin's Boss CJ in the original TV series & if they do, how long is the delay between buttocks firmly seated within the cushion & the raspberry?

A: You are all determined to get me to actually sit down on the festering objects, aren't you? I would suspect that looking at it from my safe distance of about 10 feet away & given their general age & amount of rainwater they've absorbed you more likely to get a soggy splutter rather than the proud, loud retort I recollect CJ's gave. I'll update my will, hurry that safety suit along & report back asap. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: Hi, I'm collecting old sofas for bar at Glastonbury festival which is how I came across your listing, however I think I will pass on these and even for my intended use they are a little too rough!! Simon.

A: No offence taken Simon. However having been to what was then known as The Glastonbury Fayre (Saw Steve Hillage & Peter Gabriel, Yeah Right-on Man) during the closing quarter of the 20th century these magnificent thrones would have been an unheard of luxury & something we would have eaten meat for. Still I wish you well in your quest, but you have 6 days left if you change your mind! Best wishes

Q: Hi , would some body be able to check if there is any small change packed away down the sides of the cushions to make my visit from Yorkshire fruitful.

A: Keep this up everyone, You're all determined for me to approach it aren't you? I'm on the phone to the MOD as they are nearer than Japan for a possible radiation suit. I would urge you to hurry the bidding tho' as I saw someone else last night who had come on a home viewing. Although to be fair they were shaking their heads & puffing loudly much like a tyre kicker muttering "Bloody Pikeys" although this may have been a ruse to lower the price. As for the small change I'll let you know. Happy Bidding! Best

Q: Hello, I am very interested in this magnificent suite. Could you let me know if these sofas are real leather or faux leather. Could you also give me an idea of dimensions as I will be borrowing my great aunts pick up and I need to know if there will be enough space. Thanks alot. Giles

A: As with previous enquiry I haven't gone too close. If enough people wanted detailed stuff I'll borrow an old unwanted fallout suit from Fukushima. Until then assume that it is leather. Unless it's not. Regards to your Great Aunts pickup it depends entirely if she will be driving,, you could then hold on to the suite in the back on top of it all, much like the characters at the start of "The Beverly Hillbillys" Happy Bidding! Best

Q: Hi, I'm very interested in this suite. Can you tell me if it has the British Standards safety label attached? It looks like it might be pre 'Furniture and Furnishings (Fire) (Safety) Regulations 1988'. I like to know I can fall asleep in front of the t.v with a fag on the go. Thanks, Jimmy.

A: to be honest I haven't wanted to actually be too close to the item. If I can find a passing yokel or immigrant type the PM has been talking about recently I'll send them in & update you. Good luck & as they say here "Happy Bidding" Best

Q: Hi, Love the sofa and it would be ideal to put on the touch line of my local football club (blackburn Rovers) They seem to spend most of their time sitting on their arses. Certainly cant be playing, looking at their performance this season. Anyway, next time your passing, could you throw a gallon of petrol on it and set it alight ? Would hate my beloved team to get bitten my any nasty creatures living in it. I have started the bidding, but hope it wont go for much more, as i have had to get a mortgage to pay for the gallon of petrol for you.

A: What a gent you are to start the bidding. I do hope for your sake that others join the fun or you may win - as for the de-infestation idea I'll give it a go but we had a heavy rainfall the other eve so fire may not catch. My deepest commiserations for your choice of football team. best wishes .

  

Olympus Mju-II | Ilford Delta 100 | Singapore

 

Man I love this shot. I vaguely remember shooting it, I was mostly bus and train hopping in Singapore and I guess one of those times I just looked up and snapped this.

 

I'm trying to make a change, I think it's my current lifestyle that's got me like this, my bedroom is a mess, I used to be able to get work done in there but now I usually just go there to sleep, I even moved my scanner downstairs cause I couldn't stand scanning in there.

 

I really wanna get active here again too, but I can't find make the time to do it right, i'm just posting for the sake of posting, my contacts don't even know me anymore.. Maybe i'll have to do a huge clean up and just follow a small amount of close contacts... Would that help? Maybe get active in group discussions for once.. I'm looking at my list and holy crap I have more than 500 contacts... I tend to just add people who have a style or camera I like.. Lol I think thats a pretty bad practice. Its like... Trying to confirm my feelings that having this camera will let me do what they're doing which is completely not the case..

 

Hell, I gotta get my act together.. I'm tired of the one dimensional posts too... I used to get critiqued really well by some people, and they really did help during my first year or two.. What am I saying i'm only 17 and I started maybe 3 years ago.. What the hell is wrong with me, haha I should be glad i'm shooting film among a sea of ignorant digital teenagers... I'm trying to get an old enlarger my uncle had going, i've shot a tonne of images i'm really really proud of..

 

I think i'll spend some time.. Doing some self reflection, printing and framing some of my old and most favourite work and just lay it all out there, see everything i've done, and ask myself what and where I wanna go from there. What do I want out of all of this..? Have I found my purpose? I've no syle... at least that I know of.. I think i'm subconciously copying my 500 contacts, every image has some trace of western and asian styles which I love so much...

 

The print thing sounds like a good idea... Anyone can send me a Flickrmail anytime to chat.. I'd love to discuss photography any time of day =)

 

Yeah sounds good. Sorry, I don't like talking to people I know about things like this, somehow just typing all this out makes me feel better. I think I'm ready to set things straight.

You gotta love Wyoming skies. Always changing.

 

Taken on a trip to the Miracle Mile in Wyoming on the last weekend in March of 08 with a few of my pals. The fishing was no good because of the weather but it created ideal conditions for me.

So this place is somewhere my family has been taking me forever. My grandparents have a little Airstream trailer that sits up at the river year round. Propane heat, oven and stove. Roughing it, with a little comfort mixed in.

Conditions can be pretty rough, both in summer and winter.....and in March! It's a long way out on dirt roads that see VERY little activity. If you break down it could be a day before you see anyone. On this trip we were reminded of just how vulnerable we as humans are to nature.

 

On Sunday, the day we planned to leave, we awoke to a little snow on the ground and pretty cold temperatures. It really wasn't sticking to the ground though. The boys weren't afraid and they tried their luck at the fishing again that morning. After a few hours they called it quits and we started to pack up and clean the trailer. My buddy really wanted to try and land a fish in the tough conditions so he went down to the river to try one last time before we headed home.

I joined him, to try and take a few photos of him fishing in the snow. As soon as we got to the river the snow picked up a little. Then a lot. He had barely gotten himself into the freezing cold water before he turned around and looked at me like, "Holy $%@#, we should probably get out of here!"

And we did. We locked up the trailer and hit the road.

 

Now my buddies were in a 4 wheel drive Jeep and I was in a front wheel drive Altima. No chains. We drove in on dry roads and we were leaving in blizzard conditions. There are a few different roads leading out of the Mile and I had to choose which one to take. One road takes you up and over a pass but once you get over the pass the roads are paved and it's the shortest route. The other way is pretty flat but it's out on the plains and many times the road drifts over and it's hard to see where the road is. Sometimes the drifts are 10 feet tall and then you're screwed, for lack of a better term. So I thought we'd try our luck at the pass. Yeah, not so much. The first major hill and my car started spinning about three quarters of the way up. Luckily we hadn't gone down that road long before we realized it was not an option.

 

We turned around, or rather my car did a donut and turned me around and we headed the other way. I've driven in white out conditions before but nothing prepared me for the journey I, and my trusty friends, would take. Just like I suspected the road was full of drifts and with the blizzard conditions visibility was next to nothing. For two and a half hours I followed a few little bushes sticking out of the road hoping that I was on the right path. Honestly it was hard to see if I was on the road or out in the prairie. White as white could be.

 

We made it off of the dirt roads and to a little town called Hanna. Now if you've ever been to Wyoming you know that outside of a few of the "major" cities, EVERYTHING closes down at 6pm on a Sunday. We rolled into town about 5:55. Just enough time for me to get a pack of smokes at the grocery store and trust me I needed them. The folks at the store told us EVERY road out of Hanna was closed. Hanna has NO motels. None. I was pretty sure I was sleeping in my car that night cuddled up to my furry dog.

 

At this point we needed gas too. I always fill my tank before I head out on the dirt roads because I know what can happen. No real gas stations in Hanna but they do have a few pumps that take a credit card. That works, if only the pumps worked. No luck.

 

So we decided to drive a few more miles to Interstate 80 because we figured that was our best option. Luckily the highway ramp wasn't closed and we decided to press our luck and try and get to Laramie which was about 70 miles away. Laramie was the only gas or lodging available. I had less than a quarter tank.

 

Actually I-80 was the best driving conditions we saw but that really isn't saying much. Visibility was a little better though. We made it to Laramie, and gas, and we were again told that all roads out of Laramie were closed. Hundred of semis, cars and trucks sat at on-ramps around Laramie. We decided to call Wyoming Dep't of Transportation to see if Highway 287 was open. They said yes but probably not for long. We made it out of Laramie and got past the gates before they closed them. I'm not sure if that was a good thing or not, looking back.

 

By now it was dark, very cold, and the wind was blowing like crazy. My buddy took the lead because he had the 4 wheel drive and better headlights. The snow was whipping around and making it really hard to see. We had to drive a little ways, find a road marker, drive a little more till we spotted the next. Most cars in the other lane were stopped with their hazard lights on. We kept on trucking. Up and over the pass we went. We drove through piles of drifted snow. The wind howled like I've never seen it before. At one point it literally moved my car about 4 feet. Slid it right along the frozen ground. All of a sudden I was in the oncoming lane, or what I thing was the oncoming lane. Scary stuff.

 

So we finally made it back to Fort Collins. The wicked conditions didn't let up until we reached the city limits. A trip that usually takes three and half hours took almost seven!

Seven hours of hunching over the steering wheel to see out of the windshield. Seven hours of gripping that steering wheel like it was a piece of rope and I was dangling over the edge. :)

 

I'm glad I had a few friends that didn't panic and knew what they were doing. I've never been so glad to be home from a trip.

 

Thanks for reading my story.

  

Let the uncontrollable laughter commence!

 

Amara would walk over, getting very close to Tobias' face and quickly lick his cheek if he didn't react fast enough. It was meant to be playful of course. Hit or miss, she'd stick her tongue out afterwards.

Lily Lowtide: \o/ ))

 

Tobias Reyes frowns slightly in Lily's direction before speaking. "Like the nearly one-hundred year old classic goes, 'you can't always get what you want." He'd say, chuckling softly to himself. If it weren't for his own obsession with music, he probably wouldn't know what he was talking about but he loved referencing pre-war music when he could.

 

Tobias Reyes pauses when he feels something wet touch his cheek. He'd stand there, motified for a moment before flailing his arms about in the air. "You licked me!"

 

Lily Lowtide looks to Toby with a blank expression before forming the most stupid face possible and nods. "Naahh, yathink?" she says as she pokes out her tongue.

 

Kimani Silvercloud looks down at the sleeping char again, wondering if he was still upset, then looks up at lilly her cheecks blushing a bit. gently standing then placing chars head down walking over to lily

 

Amara pouted. "How rude! It's not like I'm laced with poison or something!" She was tempted to bring up events from cleaning day again, but decided against it. She'd only fold her arms in a mock grumble.

 

Tobias Reyes continues to flail his arms in the air as he begins to shout at the top of his lungs. "Ugh! I've been kissed by a girl! I have girl germs! Get hot water! Get some disinfectant! Get some iodine!"

 

Lily Lowtide looks to Kimani and steps a little closer so they were standing side by side. She brings her hand up, intending on patting Kim on the head, but then tilts her head to the side, her hand just hovering above Kimani's head. "Did you grow? Or am I just shrinking... or just crazy?" She looks back to Toby then and playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh come on. Amara licks are the best." she says with a sage nod.

 

Kimani Silvercloud glances at tobias "he's worse then nine year olds" then walks over to him "Mister, you look ridiculous, like one of wacky wally's inflatible arm tube man"

 

Lily Lowtide: Lmao! XD ))

 

Tobias Reyes looks down at the ankle bitter, his eyes wide as he continues to speak; his voice slightly lower than before. "I've been kissed by a girl ... germs, infection, disease, cooties!" Okay, so now he was just hamming it up for the lil sheila. "And I -do not- look like a wacky-arm-inflatable-tube-man-thingy." He says as he slowly stops flailing his arms about and places them back at his side.

 

Amara took some cleaner( just water) and a clean rag from the supplies bin. If Tobias was still screaming like a baby, she'd spritz him with the water and wipe his face. Whether he dodged it or not, she'd try to spray him with a mist.

 

:: Amara Parmelee OOC :: i have a use for this finally!

 

Lily Lowtide: Lmao. ))

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes dies, he just dies lmao.

 

Lily Lowtide: Lmfao om Amara. ))

 

Kimani Silvercloud giggles "well you did, you would have fit in at the lot where he sells them" she pauses "and it isnt girls that have cooties, its boys that have cooties" she turns to look at lily "I think I had a growth spurt, but i dunno"

 

Lily Lowtide: I'm laughing so hard. ))

 

:: Amara Parmelee OOC :: i can't breathe

 

Kimani Silvercloud quick do interweb cpr!!))

 

Lily Lowtide looks at Amara and busts out luaghing, trying her best to nod at Kimani, but she was laughing too hard. "Oh, that's great." she'd say inbetween laughs as she watched the scene. "Pheeww."

 

Lily Lowtide: EVERY MOVEMENT I LAUGH EVERN HARDER! ))

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: My cat just jumped on my shoulders...

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: Epic kitty piggy-back ride.

 

Lily Lowtide: XD ))

 

:: Amara Parmelee OOC :: did it scare you?...wait does every neko hete have a cat in RL?

 

Kimani Silvercloud: i have a dog, no cats here

 

Kimani Silvercloud: ))

 

Lily Lowtide: I has 4 cats and 3 dogs. >_> ))

 

Tobias Reyes stares at the boy blankly for a moment before turning his head toward the staircase, calling down to Amara as she walks off to put the sandwiches back in the fridge. "Hey, Amara! The ankle bitter wants me to lick you! You in!?" He'd shout down to her, a hint of exhaustion in his voice as he speaks.

 

Jayde Rasmuson: ((gotta go set up my new place, i'll be back pretties))

 

Lily Lowtide: Bai! _> ))

 

Tobias Reyes stares at the ankle bitter as a stream of water hits the side of his face. Slowly,, he'd turn his head toward Amara as a second stream hits him directly in the eyes. He'd close them shut, tightly, before speaking. "Amara..." He says, trying to keep his voice controlled as the streams of water hit him in the face. "I... am going... to kill you..." He mutters under his breath before shouting and flailing his arms once more. "I'm clean now okay!?"

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: I have 2 cats and 1 dog. The one that actually associates closest with me though is a bengal so I expect it out of her.

 

Lily Lowtide: Me cat looks like he's in deep thought right now. He just like.. staring blankly into space. XD ))

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: Lucky ! Mine's biting at my fingers as I move them across the keyboard !

 

Lily Lowtide: XD ))

 

Kimani Silvercloud: ((my dog, I only have one, is chilling on the couch, he's 1 1/2, so totally adorable))

 

Amara wiped just a bit more, rubbing the rag fiercly against his check. "There you are. Girl cooty-free, love." She'd laugh loudly, failing to hold in the giggles any longer. "You're very good at the flailing by the way."

 

Kimani Silvercloud snickers "did they bring you from there, maybe you were hiding there, like in disguise which is why your so good at arm flailing" she pauses then looks at lily moving back over to her muttering "miss amara, try to get all the cooties he has off of him"

 

Amara continued laughing. "I think I did Kimani."

 

Lily Lowtide starts to fidget as she stands there and looks around. A small whine could even be hear from her as she looks to the main waterfall. "Anyone know how long this storm thing is supposed to last?"

 

Tobias Reyes looks between the ankle bitter and Amara. "I just have a lot of practice... oka--wait. I mean,

I'm no good at arm flailing! Yeah! ...that's it." He'd stand there silently for a momentfore pushing off the wall. "And on that note. I'm going to bed." He mutters, "if anyone needs me, I'll be sleeping in the medical bay where it's -cootie free-." He says as sarcastically as possible.

 

Kimani Silvercloud nodding "that's good, we dont want boy cooties spread everywhere, " she looks at lily "not too much longer I hope, its odd not running around freely" she looks at tobias then back at the two women "what a crazy ole coot" she says her smile getting larger

 

Amara plopped on the bed. "Great idea. I need to sleep myself." She was not in the modd to question what god-awful cooties lurked in the mattress. "Night all."

 

:: Amara Parmelee OOC :: nini

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: G'night.

 

Lily Lowtide: Night. ))

 

Kimani Silvercloud: Nighty night!))

 

:: Amara Parmelee OOC :: *spritzes Tobi one last tiime* Okay, i'm done.

 

Kimani Silvercloud: lol))

 

(OOC)Tobias Reyes: lol

 

Lily Lowtide makes a pouty face cause everyone is going to sleep. She waves to nods to Amara, then looks to Toby and smirks. "Sleep well, muffin." she says in an equally as sarcastic tone.

 

Tobias Reyes begins to make his way toward the stairwell when he hears the lil sheila words. He'd turn his head toward her, his eyes glaring, before he shouts; as loud as he possibly could. "I'm not old!" And with that he'd stomp down the stairs ignoring Lily's comment as he made his way toward the medic's bay.

 

Kimani Silvercloud says to lily "then there were two" before looking around giggling "he takes stuff to seriously"

Angel Gravois would be seen, more or less just hoofing it along the side of the road, beads of sweat on her brow from having to lug her ruck sack all over the place. She was getting the layout down for the city. The incline of the road was slowing her down, not to mention she had marched all the way from the docks. She stopped to pull out a canteen and suck down some water. After one good swig, she turned it up to dump the very last little splash onto her face. Toxic weather made it hot as balls out, and she was feeling beat.

 

Grizmo was barking up a storm as he would run around the gas tank. After one of the stray cats in Midian was running by the gas station. "Grizmo!" Ly commanded, as the rottie would whine and turned to face the girl giving her a look like: But...But...it's running! Ly would roll her eyes and finished putting the rest of the credits in the tire wheel. It wasn't actually real, instead it was something that Ly created and had a hidden compartment that allowed her to hide things on the inside. Since it was in the middle of the tires it was extremely hard to tell that it was fake or not. Ly would dust off her hands, and moved to walk back around the building. As she noticed the girl, she didn't say much and instead whistle for Grizmo to follow her.

 

Angel Gravois noticed the stranger at the gas station, then stared at her empty canteen. Back and forth for, she looked, trying to decide if she should risk it. The big fucking dog didn't phase her for some reason. Apparently she was accustomed to far worse beasts, "Scuse me...hate to be a bother, but you got a restroom I could use? ... and some water?"

 

Lyandria Bernard stops as she heard the words from Angel and shook her head. "Got a restroom, but no water." She stated towards the girl, "Still trying to figure out what's wrong with this shops water system." She didn't realize that it was all of Midian that had bad water right now. Grizmo would move to stand in between the girl and Ly as if he was the protector. "Don't mind him, he's actually a big cuddle bug." She smirked towards the stranger, stepping around Grizmo and giving him a pat upon the head. "Can give you a soda if you want?" She didn't hold on her hand, or anything of that sort. "Names Ly Bernard."

 

Angel Gravois looked at the dog and smiled warmly, "I could deal with anything cold to drink actually. Thanks," she said. There was a hint of recognition at the name offered, "Bernard huh? I'm Angel...Gravois." She was leery of using the name. Too many people knew that one. She offered her hand to shake though, "Pleasure to meet you."

 

Lyandria Bernard nodded her head, "John Bernard is my father, and Kat Morales is my mother." Why not get it out there now, hell of a lot easier to deal with than when people found out and started yelling at her 'cause of things her parents did. She held up her hand to show the grease and dirt upon them. "Don't think you wanna shake my hand right now." She smirked before looking over towards the pig hybrid, she's noticed that hybrid a few times around town but wouldn't say anything as she moved to walk into the garage.

 

17 "Sev"snorts and grunts as he trots along, stopping as he see's people, two girls. He eyes them curiously, then as one of them looks his way, he lifts a hand to wave to her, nodding his head. "Uh... hallooh?" He grunts, rubbing at his snout.

 

Angel Gravois looked to see where Ly was looking, and waved to be polite, "Hello there," she said before following the brunette into the garage, "I think I've heard of them," she said in reply to the woman saying who her parents were. She didn't offer the same information though, "Mind if I sit this down here?" she said, pointing at her ruck sack with a thumb, "I've really gotta ... use the latrine." That was less crude than saying she had to piss like a racehorse, wasn't it?

 

Lyandria Bernard would jerk her thumb in the direction of the bathroom, and looked over towards the pig as she would fold her arms and leaned against the door. "Evening sir." Ly made no comments about the ruck sack, or that she heard about her parents, instead Ly would lean against the door frame. "Can I help you with anything?" She asked the hybrid.

 

Angel Gravois did the 'pee pee' dance as she shuffled off the ruck sack and set it down in a corner of the shop, well out of the way. The young lady wasn't gone long. The bathroom proved to make her cringe for a moment, but she managed to handle her business all the same. More than a little relieved, she stretched like a cat about to lounge in sunlight before hefting the heavy as hell ruck sack back onto her shoulders. Issuing a grunt, she picked out a soda, put down some currency, and walked back outside, "Is it always so dark around here?" she asked casually.

 

17 "Sev" grunts as he trots closer, looking around, though not before smiling and nodding to the other girl that was there "Uh... I eyein'... workshop? An' tools an things... you be fixin' stuff 'ere?" He asks, gesturing to each thing as he mentions it, then spots the dog, and furrows his brow, staring at it nervously.

 

Lyandria Bernard raised a slender brow towards the hybrid. "Aye, I fix things." She stated casually as she glanced down to Grizmo who was still sniffing around as if he was looking for that stray feline earlier. "He don't bite, unless you do something stupid." She tried to teach the dog not to bite stupid, but it failed so she gave up. "We fix mostly bikes, and cars at this location, but I am skilled in fixing other items." She was the one that build the roadhouse kitchen, and also a few other things here and there. "Whatcha need?" As she heard Angel come back, and heard her question. She would nod her head, "I suppose so, I'm still learning about this area myself, folks sent me here wanting me to grow up or something..."

 

Angel Gravois seemed to get along fine with the canine for some reason. It would probably eat her in one gulp, though, if she were to mess with Ly. Lucky for Angel, she had no ill intent. "Yer a *big* puppy aren't you?" she said sweetly enough. Angel looked at the porcine hybrid and blinked slowly. She was trying not to stare, but she had never seen a pig hybrid before, "Aren't you afraid of getting something nasty of your feet? A stray sliver of metal could cause a really bad infection, you know...plus...these streets look...uh...not clean." She was used to dirty, but the kind of dirt one found in nature, not the toxic kind found in a city. She had brought a first aid kit worthy of a first class hospital with her just to that end. "Grow up," she nodded, "Yeah...I'm ... kinda here on the same mission." She had a strange way of talking, "My mama figured I needed to find out how things worked out here in the rest of the world on my own, like my brother Argus did."

 

17 "Sev" shrugs "Uh... well I got some skill in fixin' stuff... makin' stuff too. Thought maybe could uh..." He trails off, scratching his head, thinking for a moment, before looking to Angel, raising a brow "Mine hoofs be tougher den 'mun feet... aint much of chance gettin' hurt." He nods, and lifts one leg, grabbing hold of it to keep it up as he showed them the underside of his hoof, balancing on one leg "See? Is made've tough stuff... an' skin der is tuff like leathah..." He nods, letting his leg drop back down with a clop. The pig man turns his attention back to Ly "I be sev... who be you?"

 

Lyandria Bernard heard Grizmo bark as if in an agreement with the stranger and than sat down upon the ground and put his paws in the air as if asking for a treat. As Ly noticed that, she would stare at the dog. "That's why you've been putting on weight..." She muttered realizing what the dog was doing and shook her head. Yes, the dog was -suppose- to be on a diet, except Ly didn't have a backbone with that rottie so it usually ended up getting its way. As she heard the hybrid start to talk, she would fold her arms. "Names Ly, and are you asking for a job?" She smirked towards him as she would glance back towards the man.

BOY:

I remember every little thing

As if it happened only yesterday

Parking by the lake

And there was not another car in sight

And I never had a girl

Looking any better than you did

And all the kids at school

They were wishing they were me that night

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight

It never felt so good, it never felt so right

And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

C'mon! Hold on tight!

C'mon! Hold on tight!

 

GIRL:

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

 

BOY:

I can see paradise by the dashboard light

 

GIRL:

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely dressed

 

TOGETHER:

Ain't no doubt about it

Baby got to go and shout it

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

 

BOY:

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely dressed

 

Baby doncha hear my heart

You got it drowning out the radio

I've been waiting so long

For you to come along and have some fun

And I gotta let you know

No you're never gonna regret it

So open up your eyes I got a big surprise

It'll feel all right

Well I wanna make your motor run

 

And now our bodies are oh so close and tight

It never felt so good, it never felt so right

And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

C'mon! Hold on tight!

C'mon! Hold on tight!

 

TOGETHER:

 

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

I can see paradise by the dashboard light

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night

Paradise by the dashboard light

You got to do what you can

And let Mother Nature do the rest

Ain't no doubt about it

We were doubly blessed

'Cause we were barely seventeen

And we were barely-

 

We're gonna go all the way tonight

We're gonna go all the way

tonight's tonight...

We're gonna go all the way tonight

We're gonna go all the way

tonight's tonight...

 

RADIO BROADCAST

 

OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here,

Two down, nobody on, no score, bottom of the ninth,

There's the windup, and there it is, a line shot up the middle,

Look at him go. This boy can really fly! He's rounding first and really

turning it on now, he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for

second; the ball is bobbled out in center, and here comes the

throw, and what a throw! He's gonna slide in head first, here he

comes, he's out! No, wait, safe-safe at second base, this kid

really makes things happen out there. Batter steps up to the

plate, here's the pitch-he's going, and what a jump he's got,

he's trying for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt-safe at

third! Holy cow, stolen base! He's taking a pretty big lead out

there, almost daring him to try and pick him off. The pitcher

glances over, winds up, and it's bunted, bunted down the third

base line, the suicide squeeze is on! Here he comes. squeeze play, it's gonna be close! Heres the throw. heres the play at the plate. Holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!

 

GIRL:

 

Stop right there!

I gotta know right now!

Before we go any further!

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

Do you need me?

Will you never leave me?

Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?

Will you take me away, will you make me your wife?

Do you love me!?

Will you love me forever!?

Do you need me!?

Will you never leave me!?

Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!?

Will you take me away , will you make me your wife!?

I gotta know right now

Before we go any further

Do you love me!?

Will you love me forever!?

 

BOY:

 

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

I'll give you an answer in the morning

 

GIRL:

 

I gotta know right now

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

Do you need me?

Will you never leave me?

Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?

Will you take me away , will you make me your wife?

I gotta know right now!

Before we go any further

Do you love me?

Will you love me forever?

 

Whats it gonna be boy? Come on...I can wait all night... Whats it gonna be boy... yes or no?? Whats it gonna be boy? YES OR NO???

 

BOY:

 

Let me sleep on it

Baby, baby let me sleep on it

Let me sleep on it

And I'll give you an answer in the morning

Let me sleep on it

 

TOGETHER:

Boy: let me sleep on it......

Girl: I gotta know right now.......Do you love me will you love me forever do you need me will you never leave me will you make so happy for the rest of my life will take me away will make me your wife i gotta know right before we go any further do you love me will you love me forever.

 

BOY:

Let me sleep on it..

 

GIRL:

Will you love me forever?

 

BOY:

Let me sleep on it..

 

GIRL:

Will you love me forever?!?!?!

 

BOY:

 

I couldn't take it any longer

Lord I was crazed

And when the feeling came upon me

Like a tidal wave

I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave

That I would love you to the end of time

I swore that I would love you to the end of time!

 

TOGETHER:

 

So now I'm praying for the end of time

To hurry up and arrive

'Cause if I gotta spend another minute with you

I don't think that I can really survive

I'll never break my promise or forget my vow

 

BOY:But God only knows what I can do right now

 

I'm praying for the end of time

It's all that I can do

Praying for the end of time,

So I can end my time with you!!

 

TOGETHER:

BOY:

It was long ago and it was far away

And it was so much better than it is today

 

GIRL:

It never felt so good

It never felt so right

And we were glowing like

A metal on the edge of a knife

 

Second to the bikini on Koloist's Chaotic Universe post was the mentioning of post card which got me into this connection thing again. Now I don't consciously collect them but somehow I have them around me (and I don't mean bikini) and keep bumping into relating events and shops.

 

In 2007 I went to the Lomo World Congress event in London (1st Day, 2nd Day, Photos). On the last day of my visit, 30 mins. away from leaving the Royal National Hotel I saw a poster of the Bloomsbury Postcard Fair happening right there in a conference hall! The event happens EVERY SINGLE MONTH! But I got less than 30 mins., without waiting I paid 1.5 pounds and met really interesting folks!

 

I didn't know where to start, it was crazy, the clock was ticking. So I went to more organized exhibitors, the classification and the way they store them alone worth the entire trip to UK, it is like a primitive Google for searching postcards. You name it, they have a way. By countries, 30's 40's 50's, wars, transportations, children, eras, .... My mind flew away imagining that if there is such a physical search engine sorting resorting these postcards on the fly according to your search terms, wouldn't it be a sight?

 

And I met Ken Lister, a regular visitor to the show. He gave me some hints on how to find things there and he mentioned that there is such a fair happening in Hong Kong which I didn't know! Ken was an extensive traveler, been to many places in South East Asia, I wish there was more time to chat with him. Tick tock tick tock.

 

Postcards are not the only thing you find in this fair. Torn pages from old books/bibles, letters/deeds written by people long gone, surveyor's map, etc etc...... One thing in common though, you may not be aware of it but when you think about it, they are all PAPERS!! This amazed me really.

 

With only the last few pounds I had, I got 2 advertising postcards from fountain pen makers and 2 postcards of the "Peak Tramway and Barracks, Hong Kong", of which one of them was written by a Frenchman probably to his girlfriend in France. Imagine where this postcard had travelled and how it is connected to so many people. Again, if there is such a physical search engine to travel through time returning all properties relating to one particular object, ... oh perhaps too far fetched technically, we might as well just go to the Akashic Records to do the trick.

 

Here's a few more links of my postcard adventure:

Postkarten shop in Cologne Germany I stumbled upon recently.

Polaroid Postcard, a flickr group where people exchanging postcards in Polaroid format. You gotta try, beautiful.

Altered Postcard Art, use any postcard, alter it to suit your own artistic vision.

 

Finally, I've always had great times doing these personal postcards using "spare time" during business trips and I'm not stopping as long as there is postal service available. See Hairspray and Bird Shit, Birthday Postcard to Okuyama san. God give me more time on earth!

 

More on Scription blog: moleskine.vox.com/library/post/postcard-fanatics-monthly-...

3/18/2011

 

Today's theme for Song/Lyric Collaboration is :

"Song that you associate with one of your parents or grandparents"

 

My dad thinks that A Boy Named Sue is the funniest songs ever, or at least that's the feeling I get when he talks about the song. Even before I really liked Johnny Cash songs I had known about this song because of dad. So I think of him when I think of this song. Not because the song has anything to do with dad, but just because dad was the first person that introduced me to the song.

 

Johnny Cash - A Boy Named Sue

 

My daddy left home when I was three

And he didn't leave much to ma and me

Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.

Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid

But the meanest thing that he ever did

Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."

 

Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke

And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,

It seems I had to fight my whole life through.

Some gal would giggle and I'd get red

And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head,

I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named "Sue."

 

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,

My fist got hard and my wits got keen,

I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.

But I made a vow to the moon and stars

That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars

And kill that man who gave me that awful name.

 

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July

And I just hit town and my throat was dry,

I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew.

At an old saloon on a street of mud,

There at a table, dealing stud,

Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue."

 

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad

From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had,

And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.

He was big and bent and gray and old,

And I looked at him and my blood ran cold

And I said: "My name is 'Sue!' How do you do!

Now your gonna die!!"

 

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes

And he went down, but to my surprise,

He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.

But I busted a chair right across his teeth

And we crashed through the wall and into the street

Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

 

I tell ya, I've fought tougher men

But I really can't remember when,

He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.

I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,

He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,

He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.

 

And he said: "Son, this world is rough

And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough

And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along.

So I give ya that name and I said goodbye

I knew you'd have to get tough or die

And it's the name that helped to make you strong."

 

He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight

And I know you hate me, and you got the right

To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.

But ya ought to thank me, before I die,

For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye

Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "Sue.'"

 

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun

And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,

And I came away with a different point of view.

And I think about him, now and then,

Every time I try and every time I win,

And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him

Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!

DBC ("Dirty but Clean") Pierre

Vernon God Little

First published in: 2003

This edition: Faber and Faber, 2003

ISBN: 0-571-21517-3

Genre: contemporary fiction, satire

Number of pages: 277

Cover illustration by Scott Garrett

Let me please begin by saying:

what you see in the photo isn't real.

I'm not that gross :P

 

book087-vernongod-1000px

 

Sorry if you're disgusted though.

 

A couple of things about Vernon God Little. He's fifteen. He's from Martirio, Texas. His mother… well, she's a real piece of work; she's more worried about a fridge then she is about her kid. Vernon furthermore suffers from a syndrome I dub chronic gutter mouth of the kind that will give the entire cast and crew of Scarface a run for their money. Oh. And his best friend just went and shot up their high school.

Vernon didn't have anything to do with it. But his father's gun did. Vernon needs to find his dad's gun, and fast – because it will implicate him as an accessory to his friend's horrible crime.

 

Vernon is fifteen and cynical as they come. His narrative style takes some getting used to. (If you're not cool with swearing, this book is best left alone.)

The first opinion I formed while reading this one was that he does remind me of The Catcher in the Rye's Holden Caulfield, but more even of George Lass ("Dead Like Me" – brilliantly played by Ellen Muth). There's a similar kind of disillusionment, a cynicism. But I never wanted to slap Caulfield or George in the face. Vernon, him I wanted to slap so hard, you'd see my handprint slowly develop, like a polaroid, to its rightfully pink shape.

 

Vernon's getting a high school shooting pinned on him simply for being the friend of the guy (named Jesus – like Vernon God, so 'aptly chosen', so unimpressive) that was actually, solely responsible. There's no need for proof: as far as Martirio is concerned, Vernon is guilty. Hmm. Okay.

Thing is, he lets them all think it. I wasn't impressed with Pierre's attempts to make Vernon seem like an unreliable narrator: I never once thought Vernon did it. Throughout the book, then, I wondered: why isn't this kid defending himself?! The kid infuriated me.

 

This is where the slapping in the face comes in. It's all quite unbelievable. [Edited to clarify] Because he's got proof that he wasn't there at the time of the killings. He took a dump in a field. He can prove he didn't do it. But he's too embarrassed. He'd rather let everyone think he's a killer than let people know he had to go potty. He does everything else he can not to go to jail. Except spill about the one thing that will set him free. A little turd, so frustratingly silly.

 

I would have understood Vernon one heck of a lot better had his alibi been something deeper, not a pile of poop. This? This didn't work for me. [/edit]

 

And even so, all sorts of stuff happens to Vernon, and he seems to be idly watching it all go down, running away but never standing up for himself. Any idiot who's innocent and can prove it will say [revised] "I didn't do it! I swear! I can prove it!" It's excrement, it's silly, but it's going to get you off the freakin' hook. So speak up! [/revise]

Are we supposed to accept Vernon's idleness simply because he's a teen who drops the f-bomb once every four sentences, who'd rather be convicted for mass murder than to have to say "Well, thing is, I had to do a number 2, and when you gotta go you gotta go"? No pun intended, but that's crappy plotting.

 

There's no real spunk to Vernon, no depth, and that's what disappointed me most. I wanted to like him but he's just as two-dimensional as everyone else in the book. Pierre is just using them as objects for satire.

 

Which is the general gist of the book, of course. Satire. This book is meant to give some sort of surreal look into the USA and its culture. Yes, DBC Pierre has got it right in some ways. The media in particular; reporting for sensationalism instead of truth… I mean, the recent Balloon Boy debacle, sans parody already absurd enough in itself, is an example of that. But is it new? Is it fresh? No, not really.

 

He was way off concerning the rest. I simply couldn't even take it with a grain of salt, knowing full well this book is meant to be satirical. Americans were portrayed as fat, ignorant and shallow. Even in the context of satire, I just really hate it when writers blatantly stereotype people and in this case, the whole state of Texas. It's more like, "hey look at me I'm being offensive but trying to wrap it up in a funny package, hoping I sound witty instead of just plain ignorant myself". (Pierre, a former con man, is an Australian living in Ireland.)

Stereotyping is lame. It's not new, it's not cool, it's not clever. It's a lazy attempt at humor, and it falls flat for me.

 

Speaking of lazy: the ending was wrapped up in a jiffy, and it's all so convenient. Cynicism got booted from the story and let the door hit its ass on the way out. I'd rather have the story end dramatically, to be honest. Would have made an impact of some kind that way. Now I was just thinking, "Ooooooof course".

 

To be fair, I did finish the book and I liked certain aspects of it. The narrative and dialogue at times was so bizarrely and imaginatively phrased, I actually had quite a few laughs there. At other times, it was a bit much: a fifteen year-old who loves dumb jokes, but regularly spouts out poetically formed sentences used to describe random observations…?

Vernon's penchant for cussing and his knack for beautiful wording are both a bit much, then; despite that, DBC Pierre did really make me feel like I was reading about a fifteen year-old kid. It's eerie almost.

Finally, Pierre didn't sensationalize the shooting, which I think was a (or the only) classy decision. Leave that subject to authors who knows how to handle it.

Taken as just another book, Vernon God Little is doable.

 

The satire, however, turned into overkill: a circus I've already visited many times before. Same acts, same show. It's not a worthy 'next Catcher in the Rye' after all. I can take over the top from authors such as Christopher Moore, because the guy's anything but pretentious. But from a Booker Prize winning book, a book this ambitious, I simply expect something more – I expected it to have an impact. Yet apart from wanting to kick Vernon's behind, VGL didn't really make me feel anything. I finished the book, and even as I'm typing the end to this review find myself not even really caring.

 

Vernon God Little: despite that big award, it's got little.

 

Q: help me sleep tonight. What IS actually in the photo?

A: gingerbread cake & soysauce. Makes for excellent, gross faux-turds.

 

© 2010

www.reading-reviewing.com

-->> ..

  

..don't respond.. don't f7ckin' respond..they don't anyway .. unless it's to plop some base of a rip on me.. like the f7ckin' white boys runnin' the red ..i guess stop signs and lights sometimes are just so hard to see at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Such a hard-knock life one has when your trying to run down total strangers in your auto and then scream at them for "..fucking being in the road.. "

 

..that's where these things go all the time.. the typical, the tired, the arrogant ..the blind notions of everything surrounding only the self and the refusal to notice that which is around you. Wasn't the first time.. won't ever be the last. Famous last words.. and Colorado Springs' last words to me are a big ::'Fuck you' ..((this was once my home ,folks..))

 

..and these people want to , choose to 'fuck with me'. Maybe i allowed them (!?).

 

The potential is always there ..a loose cannon.. and if these morons have enough courage to scream and holler at me like a bunch of wild turkey off to slaughter ..for sure i'd think they'd like to pull over to the side of the street and get out, face me.. and we'd handle it the old fashioned way. Sure..maybe i'd go down bloody .. but there seemes to be a lack of care i have anymore for my own safety. Bloody and beatin' i'm sure.. i've failed at my own long attempts to learn and employ martial arts or just general scrapping. I'm sure i'd loose teeth and get my head bashed in like they always did. They always aimed for the fuckin' noggin'. But i'd manage to bite a few bloddy chunks outta these doosh-bags before the authorities come roun'.

 

But cowards act this way .. raise hell for their own insecurities..and flee ..

fine.. human nature.. and on a day like yesterday .. and the gas guzzling humans..

.. and the rednecks and their war machines, onward Christian soldiers, W. Bush-ites....

  

..thanks.. you can have your fucking humanity. I prefer to remain the monster .. i look forward to going to hell.

  

"Asymmetrical mayhem" ..spots.. spouts..

 

..after such an amazing week.. how can things just the continual and trivial and the entropic ??

 

..Thru' the strings of coincidences and being availed the special gift of meeting an incredible artist last weekend ..and one who has impacted me a bit different than i've seen him impact others. i am still a bit stunned. A shot in the arm i needed but i am not sure i may have deserved ..still i am all to greatful. I still cannot put it in words so easy or even how to describe it. I mean John Cameron Mitchell

..what the ..- ..why me ?? But perhaps that may need to be the case.. not to explain,describe, or even attempt to find more words than the ones i've already just barely unearthed. As surreal as this existence is maybe taking one of those 'good' surreal experiences for what it is may be where i should focus this.

 

..if anything i made a new friend.. summin' i cannot say everyday.

 

I had been deep in thought tho' since the events of last weekend.. and the blur has seemed extra stinging and vengeful..

 

..my mother's news has been steady.. she is somewhat clear on the lump' the found the other week..but won't know for certain til' she sees the regular doctor (?!).. so the unease is still there.. but maybe i am gettin' a bit used to it. As her schizo little fagg..i keep it short tho' with her.. ask her how she is and what i have to do as far chores go. It's difficult when you make money and your boss is your mother. Her chaotic lifestyle at times.. is self-destructive anyway ((something i sadly have emulated in my own way)).. but i'm just to fried to focus on those things right now.

 

However whatever the news..

 

.. i still cannot guarantee me not destroying this existence ..

 

this shell i reside in .. you humans show me that such things are so pointless in so many ways nowadays.

 

Such fragile beauties that a creature like me could assume humans would love,protect,and cherish seem pointless, taken for granted.. and just downright trampled upon. Why should it matter ?? Such complacency on this warming sphere is so destructive.. i speak from a belly of one such beast this 'complacency'.. so destructive it is. Be weary for it will destroy you all if you all if you allow it. Complacency is slowly growing.. ever stronger it is .. it is a very VERY powerful beast. Just look around you .. it's very easy to spot those who fight it.. and those that ignore it.. and those that embrace it.

 

Again i get lost.. in the gray..tho' .. as amazing as things had been last week.. i am only able to share it so far. I just told some i met with a director..and made a friend. I don't have the energy for people to pick apart such a good thing..

  

..thoughts of guns.. and the need for great change ..the working to get to that change and the pain..the vocals and visions.. all these tings race in tandem. I really need to die..

 

but if anything comes to pass to get me beyond that .. i've yet to see it.. but have not closed off my battered brain to it.

 

One is the LOWLIEST ..number.. ..

 

2 ..

 

..and i fully understand.. no matter how much it haunts,bumps and rumbles in my my heart .. Miguel will not ever love me again ..'cept as the brother,friend and mother he's developed into ..i am forever greatful 1000 X forever to him. Something he's heard countless times to the point of boredom i'm sure.. from me.

 

As Z represents the bitter-sweet and impossible for me to care for.. i realize now that a beast like me will remain unloved just short of any more dumb luck. Horrific evils i represent to many are just not meant to loved but in very special circumstances. And perhaps thought of my slaughter will subside long enough for that void to filled once again. But it's too hard to see it now. But yeh if the mind closes off to much.. it will swell .. and i shall die unloved.

 

We'll see.. focus is hard.. San Diego will need to be mu focus.. my work, my resume ,doing the best i can i suppose. Rubbing my ass on the rug..

 

..sheh- ..whatever it takes..

 

i loose feeling again. And if and when i am offered the chance to leave this sinister place.. i'll carry the good here with em in some sort in my heart forever. The rest i shall spit upon with scorn and anger.

 

A spit city..and confusing and painful sense of community. Some of them yap and spout.. all they have to do is keep sipping their Starbucks, listen to NPR ..and suddenly they are better and more enlightened than anyone else.. yeh; KRCC.. go f8ck yourself..i just don't care anymore. you think your better than anyone ?! Awesome .. you don't speak for all the voices in this moronic city .. L33t L33t LL33t .. more power to you. Shut up , anyway.

 

.. and the enlightened basking in the light of the 'LORD' will continue their evil.. and try to blur the evil Christians with the good ones.. and that's not right.

 

Even i face the challenge of warding and fighting complacency.. it is devouring many here.. i cross my fingers i'll be able to maintain before it strikes me down forever. But the day it strikes ..i've keep my aces up my sleeves, the day it strikes ..i'll unleash my aces.

 

Things aren't good.. things aren't ok.. it doesn't feel good. And life is imperfect at best.. and the seedy old fat white men that drool over their engines smother themselves in such a false sense of morality. I just don't get these things.

 

.. yeh just keep rubbing ,tOkKa ..

 

.. maybe summin' better is round the bend. Been saying that a real long time now.

 

But i didn't stop working ever .. now did i ??

 

No ..

 

..loosing feeling again.. can't think ..

 

gotta go work soon for nil $$ ..better than nothin' ..

 

rub.. rub..

 

>v<

 

..

       

he's sleeping on the couch and from the smell of it, he's been smoking in here again even though he knows i hate it. it's nearly six in the afternoon. turn on the afternoon local news but mute it and wash the dirty dishes in the sink, maybe straighten up a little in the kitchen. should i make him something to eat? he doesn't snore, god bless him, but when i look over at him, his legs move like a puppy's when he's dreaming. time for a shower.

 

afterward, i put on the same pair of pants i was wearing and when i come out of the bathroom, he has some pasta on the stove and a sauce pan of alfredo sauce. i walk over and give him a hug from behind and kiss his neck. he asks me how my day was and i tell him and he listens. he always listens to me and i wonder how uninteresting my day (or night, i guess) working at the warehouse must be to hear. he asks me about luis and i tell him. i think he's the only one of my co-workers he likes. he says maybe he really ought to get a job. he says it's not fair to me. of course, i tell him, no, he has to focus on his classes. he turns and kisses me.

 

we eat at the couch, watching some old seinfeld reruns. it's probably the only television show i like and can still watch every episode all the way through, even after all these years. he gets up and gets me a beer and asks if i want some more. i say he just needs to come back and sit next to me, i'll clean up later. he does. he asks me if i want to go to san diego my next weekend off. it's time for street scene and he really wants to go. i could do without all of that, the crowds and the sun and the terrible music and the bad art and even worse commercialism. he knows all of this, but he asks anyway and of course i say yes. his face lights up the way that makes me think he's just the most adorable man on earth. we have sex on the couch.

 

i get a phone call and my entire shift's been cut for today and the day after next. i ask my foreman if there's no way that i can make up the days and he says there isn't. i really can't afford to miss any days. but here i am, my night off and he's out with his friends. no car, no extra cash. i walk to the bar at the corner.

 

she says she's still having problems with her ex. i've met him and he's not that bad a guy, but i suppose when you're younger things taste different. over in the corner an older couple have set up camp, and from the looks of it they've been here for quite sometime: both look like they're not really paying attention to what the other is saying. she tells me she thinks they're married but not to each other, each keep getting calls on their cell phones but neither are answering. we look for a while but they're certainly carrying on like teenagers. i drink my first three beers within the hour. by the time the fifth comes, i know it's time to get home. she says i should come back later, hang out. i'm just drunk enough that i make sure to ask, just hang out or more than hang out. she smiles. i tell her we've had the conversation before, and it comes out a little more forceful than i mean, but she says, yeah, that's fine. tell her i'll see her later.

 

at home, he's back and he's tearing through the bedroom. i ask him what's going on and he says he can't find his phone. he's sure he left it here. i give him mine to call it but there's no ring anywhere in here. i'm a little hazy and i say maybe he left it somewhere else. he seems really worried and i tell him my shift got cut. he doesn't say anything about that or about me being half-drunk. he curses a lot but i can't be bothered right now. he says he's gotta go pick up his friends back at the bar they're at. i ask him who he's out with and he says some of the girls from class. i plop on the bed and fall asleep.

 

it's barely around midnight and he's still not home. i don't still feel drunk but do feel like my head's going to explode. definitely, i'm not a young guy anymore. i strip to my boxers and make myself some coffee. wonder what's going on at work. it's been so long when my boss hasn't needed me. i hope nothing more serious is happening. i hate this is the type of thing i have to think about. i should've finished those tech classes i was taking way back when. i should've gone to work with my cousins downtown when they offered. i need something more steady, more certain. i can't go on living paycheck to paycheck. i have someone else counting on me. that was the deal. sometimes i think i got all of this figured out and something like this happens. isn't that always the case?

 

at least he'll be home soon. he never stays out too late. and when he comes, and we go to bed, i'll get to wake up next to him and that hasn't happened in a long while. i like waking up next to him. if i told him he's probably think i was a little too cheezy. but that's okay isn't it, whenever you have someone next to you? all the work traumas and all the other minutia of your daily life, all of it goes away when you can say good morning to someone like him.

 

i pour myself another cup and that's when i see it, just above the stove, his cell phone. he must've been using it when he was making dinner, set it down and completely forgot all about it. maybe i shouldn't but i check his calls and his texts. because...i don't know why.

 

oh. and that's when everything ends...

My everything. ^3^ I shall talk about their growth and what hairstyle I liked the most aha. For dubu onew oppa leader chicken maniac, he didn't really change alot. Still have that small but attracting pair of eyes and the brightest smile ever. His voice is so beautiful and he can be really cute at times. But what I loved most about him is onew condition and his love for chickens! His nicest hairstyle was around the romeo period. I don't really like his rdd hairstyle, abit fail though. For sexychick blingbling Jonghyun oppa, his sexinesssssss always make me drool. K like srsly he's sucha hottie man! :D But to be honest, I don't like ahjjong the most just by looking at the appearance at the replay time. It was until when I heard his angellic and perfect voice!!! I will not be able to sleep at night if I didn't listen to him singing in the day. Until the rdd period, I got really shocked by his cool blonde hair. It's so unique that you won't find any hairstyle that looked like that while walking on the street. Even if you've found any, you would prolly think that person is crazy or sth. But that hairstyle just fit our jonghyunie oppa so well! :B His new hairstyle is great too (not in the pix), but I just find it abit strange not to see him in blonde hair. Yep my fav hairstyle of him is definitely the blonde hair! For cool cat almighty key kimkibum oppa, his hairstyle is the coolest during the rdd period too. And if you do not know, key oppa was my first bias during the replay time idk why. o_o I love key oppa's personality too. That is why the blonde hair seem to fit him very well, making him looked more friendly and cute. But like what I've mentioned in my older posts, I like him in black hair the most, with a few strands of pink highlights and cornrows. His hairstyle is very special too, and whenever I saw someone with hairstyle similar to him, I'll say wahseh this person copied our key ley lol. -stares- And our key oppa can dance very well too. I really enjoy seeing him dancing girl group dances~ For flaming charisma frog prince minho oppa, his change is quite big from the replay time to rdd. His hairstyle omg!!!!!! Okiez thank god the hairstylist changed his mushroom hairstyle. I don't like it. :( And yeah, the curly long hair fits him better. I go crazy over oppa's adam apple and his longgggggg legs omg lol. He's also very sporty and tall, that's why alot of people said he would make a very good and perfect boyfriend. Well he also looked good in pretty much everything! :3 Especially his school uniform and suit! He's a rapper in shinee and his rap is fucking sexy and hawt. Yepppp, he's called flaming charisma because of that. ;) Lastly, the maknae of shinee, my bb boy taemin. He looked like a small little cute boy so that's why the noonas like him. Wtf he's mine kkkk. Why everytime noonaaaaaaaa. -.- And he's fucking cute and innocent no matter what he does. He got those pair of big and charming eyes that will make you faint if you were to look at him. And his killer smile zomgwtf brb dying. How can anyone not like this cute boy? If you think he only got the appearance then you're wrong, bb's not only cute but he's talented. He knows how to play piano and did you see him dance before? His dance skill is srsly !@#$%^&*)(*&^%$#@#$%^&*&^%$# *screamsssss* You gotta admit his smile is the most adorable thing in the world. Aha, yes that's why I love him alot. He's only 15 when he debut wow same age as me now. Didn't really change alot but become cuterrrrrrrrrr. I love his maggie mee and the hairstyle in THJ the most. He looked really young and cute in them *o*!!!!!! His cuteness always kill me. Yeppppppp, I died alot of times because of him. (L)

     

ahhhhh yes this is my bb taemin. Bb's always so cute, no matter wut he does. Srsly I can't get taeminnie bb out of my mind, thinking of him all the time and worrying about him. Indeed, my life has changed so much after being a shinee fangirl. Quarrelled with parents umpteen times because of fangirling, grades deproving and etcs. Oh and being a fangirl is srsly expensive omg. I shall not count the amount of money spent on fangirling because I think I'll be like this O_O because I could have bought like maybe hundreds over piece of clothings for myself if I didn't spent those money on fangirling lol. But I don't regret it at allllllllllll. Maybe for nao, yes. :') Shinee hwaiting!

   

Almighty key kimkibum. ;) And yes, if any of you don't understand the meaning of 'almighty', watch this video and you'll understand. Aw our dear key oppa is so awsmz. Cool cat meow meow. ^^v This dude may looked very cool and he's sucha thoughtful and sweeeeeeet boy ~ He's the only child and that's why he treats my bb very well and cook for him all that. I guess he wanted a brother to takecare of, maybe? But anw thx oppa you rox.

  

Seeing onew oppa's pix of brothers were brave made me happy. He seemed to enjoy himself alot! And another reason is because his musical is getting lots of love. Yes we're all OnJubong's fans my dear oppa! The fans are soo lucky to see him in suit anw. I want! Hahalol, good luck onew oppa and all the best! :D

 

This is supposed to be a happy post but I cried again after watching this. The shinee appas saying goodbye to Yoogeun son. T-T Yoogeun seemed like he doesn't know the shinee appas will be leaving. Dear yoogeun do you know this is not a normal goodbye? Do you know the next morning you will not see the shinee appas sleeping next to you and showering you with lots of love? Evil people! You are so cruel to seperate yoogeun son and the shinee appas. :( Yoogeun do you know how much the shinee appas loved you? It breaks my heart so much to see bb sad and key oppa tearing. Jjong oppa was holding back his tears to prevent himself from crying. Ugh sadddd. :'(((( Onew oppa once asked, "Will Yoogeun rmb us in 20years' time?" I hope he does! I hope he rmb what the shinee appas did for him, esp minho appa. I find it very unfair, why snsd had 22 episode while shinee only has 12?! Hallo, Our yoogeun is so much cuter compared to Kyungsan! Hais ... but it's gonna end sooner or later right? No matter how unwilling I am, hi bb's gonna end in episode 12. This will prolly be the last time we'll see yoogeun son. But he did leave many beautiful memories, for the shinee appas, moogeuns and shawols. I hope they will eventually reunite again one day. And I'll definitely miss them together alot. The name we loved - Jung Yoogeun.

  

Jongkey moments. C:

  

Key oppa I can understand how you feel.

No one would want it to end right?

Don't be sad and cheer up okie dearest key oppa.

  

Bb I'm so glad that you didn't cry.

Your tears are so precious to me

So pls don't let your tears fall okie?

Iloveyou. :*

   

Yep. These memories will stay in my heart forever. :)

 

If I seem a little grouchy, well...

 

At least three of these vertebrae aren't what they're supposed to be. And the soft tissue around them isn't happy either.

  

I've got to tell you about Indianapolis Health Imaging--

 

After my fall in Novmber 2006, i was in a turtle shell for about four months... and still today, ten months later, i'm nowhere near as able as i had been. "friends" keep telling me that i "should be all healed" and that the "discomfort should go away by now" as if this was a bruise or a cut. I am able to use the riding mower, but it's not much "comfort" at all, certainly not in this yard! if i lay on my right side for long i can just barely get back to a sitting position, and if i lay on my back i need lots and lots of padding. As of early September i finally recovered well enough to be able to lift my niece -- if she does most of the work, and as long as she "lands" on my knees...

 

So i go to see Dr. Steve Rupert, DO (an osteopath), who looks at the x-rays and says "gotta have an MRI, these don't show enough. We won't know what's what, or what the options are, until we have an MRI. You should have an MRI. Why don't you get an MRI. Got MRI? Get MRI."

 

Great, i'm thinking, those cost a bazillion, and they're probably booked up through easter. Here in evansville, they charge $2,000 for an MRI...

 

As i get home and close the front door behind me, i get a call from Indianapolis Health Imaging, saying my Osteopath wanted them to set me up. i ask "How much?" "Well, what kind of MRI are we after, here?" i respond "Spinal/thoracic". They say "Okay, $395."

 

Um, under four hundred? yep.

 

Okay, to be sure i'm really dreaming, i ask "when can you fit me in?" They reply "Well, it doesn't look like we could squeeze you in until tomorrow..."

 

Wow! Nobody around here can get you in for months -- in fact, after my accident on 11-Nov-06, the earliest i could get in to see a doctor (for a crushed vertebrae, no less) was 16-Nov-06, but they originally wanted to schedule me for some time in December!

 

So i scheduled an MRI appointment for the following tuesday -- giving me time to alert interested parties that i would be out of town, make plans, prep a vehicle for the 3.5-hour trip. Their place is on the south side of Indy.

 

Then i catch a little "bug" over the weekend which becomes a full-blown sore throat, high temperature, sweats-and-chills, headache-mania monster on Monday evening. No way i'm taking a long trip up to Indy, and another one back down to E-ville, sick! We call and leave a message to that effect, and on Tuesday when i called to confirm that they got the message and had unscheduled me, they said "Must be providence, because our MRI machine just broke down..."

 

Serendipity!

 

I rescheduled for the following Friday. So, on Thursday afternoon, after a bit of recovering and mostly getting past my cold/virus/flu/plague, i called to confirm that their machine was back in operation: "Well, not yet. You're worried about the long drive, right? Our guys insist that they'll have it working tonight, but we'll call you early in the morning to give you an update before you leave." I say "Sounds spiffy."

 

Friday morning (7am my time, 8am their time) and their MRI machine is still kaput! No problem, they shunt me to their downtown facility -- this one being in the heart of Indy, just blocks from the Childrens' Museum...

 

I arrived early, they answered all my incessant questions (harmonic frequencies of water, right? is that how this works? is it a torus shape because...), thwumped me into the tube, instructed me that i could do anything i wanted as long as it didn't involve moving, the thing buzzed like crazy even with the earplugs, boy it was awful "tight" in there, and i thought i'd get the hiccups partway through just to make the don't-move-thing impossible... When they finally slid me back out, they handed me a CD with the (animated!) images of the scans, plus films to show the osteopath, before i was out the door.

 

They're inexpensive, they keep you informed, they try to help. If we could all have this kind of economically candid helpfulness from other places, similar to what i got from Indianapolis Health Imaging, the world would be a much better place!

 

here's how my wednesday started once i got to the office:

 

"mike, you're the photographer, right? you wanna go walk about half a mile east on the north side of hollywood blvd. and find a bus stop with a picture of karen misraje on it?"

 

"who?"

 

"i dunno, some chick. apparently jimmy or one of the writers saw it on the way to work and she had a mustache drawn on her or something. i think she's the hot chick from entourage. sloan."

 

"dude, emanuelle (shreeky)? we had her on like, last week."

 

"ok, i don't know who it is."

 

"alright, we don't know cross streets?"

 

"nope."

  

so i walked out into the cesspool, stopping and grabbing my camera out of the car because now that's what i do: i bring my camera everywhere i go. note: i break a sweat in my fucking car just reaching under the glove to retrieve said camera; 90-95 out, easy. before i can even cross the boulevard, i'm overcome with remorse upon realizing that i've all but jumped into shark-infested waters in bacon swim trunks by traipsing aimlessly along hollywood fucking boulevard in cargo shorts and wayfarers, camera in tow. as far as practicality, fashion and general logic are concerned, this is by far the dumbest thing i could've possibly done.

 

by las palmas (3 blocks?), i'm sweating profusely in an adobe-colored t-shirt and the tops of my sunglasses are fogging up from my eyebrows, which really aren't terribly pronounced in the first place. i've also had to fight off half a dozen tour guides who want to drive me around and show me where lindsay lohan got her last DUI. and let me tell you, these guys are persistent as FUCK--i see them on a daily basis on the street, i make eye contact ideally implying "i have a fucking job dude, how would you like it if i came and shot a late night talk show at your job?" and i walk unfazed past the brochures they fan in my direction, never to see each other until i walk next door again in another hour or two to make premature judgments about our lunch from craft services. (on the contrary, if i could do runs for work on a big red double decker bus with families from kansas city and florida and the ukraine, i'd probably spoil myself for the occasional afternoon and listen to audio recordings of dubious tinseltown lore (like that time back in the day when sinatra pulled a hooker by the nose into the ladies' room at the roosevelt hotel...and taught her to properly apply eyeliner) in a different language every time. (should my situation ever become this desperate, my maiden voyage would likely feature french or italian.)

 

anyway, i pass some bums, some interesting posted bills (is that their preferred nomenclature?) and a shitload of bus stops. no misraje.

 

i call, i say i can't find it, i talk to our producer, who's talking quietly because he's plum in the middle of the writers' meeting, i tell him i'm at hollywood and the 101 (a mile and a half east of the studio) and i haven't found the elusive mustachioed woman of unknown ethnicity, so he suggests i try searching half a mile or so west of the studio. greeaaaat.

 

i walk the mile and a half back. i walk a mile west. where the fuck is this bitch?! i catch myself talking...to myself. i should've brought my headphones, at least then i could boogie along in this MISERABLE FUCKING HEAT. i look like i've just played back-to-back full court games...getting back on D...at least in the first game.

 

i've gone a little more than a mile west of the office now, about to hit fairfax, and i say fuck it. i'm headed back to the office, email our producer [re: my futility] and idly ask for his "thoughts." within a minute of hitting send, I glance across the street (i've crossed over to the south, assuming a writer could just as easily confuse "north" and "south" if "east" and "west" present such a challenge.) turns out a fat guy (i have absolutely zero grounds for this arbitrary characterization, but it would seem likely) had probably probably been playing 'little big spoon' with ms. misraje's face, so naturally, i missed it. not like the text section of what turns out to be a legal ad was incredibly enticing.

 

so i jaywalk across, stopping with my toes against the curb (coincidentally, this area is a functional lane of reasonably consistent light traffic) and i stop. for a moment, i honestly don't give a shit that i've walked at least 4 miles in 90-degree heat...WITHOUT a headband. i don't give a shit that i've gotta walk another mile back to the office...still without a headband. i don't give a shit that this is all in order to take a photo of a woman who's been defaced with ridiculous facial hair.

 

so why am i here?

 

because this shit really is FUCKING HILARIOUS.

 

* * *

 

(and that's the story of how i learned by early afternoon that i'd make it through hump day in one piece. obviously, it didn't get used on the show in any context whatsoever; someone thought it was funny (or funny enough worth mentioning), i wanted to believe them, so i took on a mythical-by-PA-standards journey into the unknown (i wish) to confirm this, and they were totally right.

 

long story short, if you grew up in santa monica or spent your middle school years at john adams (where i very well may have sold you one of several JAM'N buttons), never ask michael gross to see his 6th grade yearbook. no one--myself included--has been spared.

 

* * *

 

i also have what seems to be a textbook farmer tan.

I’ve been tagged by Ian Sane

www.flickr.com/photos/31246066@N04/!

 

thanks ever so much! this was a pain in the butt but fun. That's one of my rubber ducks from my desk at work keeping company with my favorite running companion, my nano...have a great evening...

 

1. Put your iTunes/ ipod on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.

3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

4. Tag 10 or more friends who might enjoy doing this.

 

So here are my shuffle of songs (this is in the exact order they were played).

_________________________

 

1. What would best describe your personality?

Don't Stop Believing - Journey

 

2. What do you like in a guy/girl?

Heartless - Kanye West

 

3. What is your life's purpose?

Right Round - Flo Rida

 

4. What is your motto?

Send Her My Love - Journey

 

5. What do your friends think of you?

Thinking of You - Katy Perry

 

6. What do you think about often?

Crack A Bottle - eninem

 

7. What is 2+2?

halo - Beyonce

 

8. What do you think of your best friend?

Lovin' touchin' Squeezin - Journey

 

9. What do you think of the person you like?

Just Another Day - John Secada

 

10. What is your life story?

A New Day has Come - Celine Dion

 

11. What do you want to be when you grow up?

Close to Me - The Cure

 

12. What do you think when you see the person you like?

American Boy! - Estelle

 

13. What do your parents think of you?

Boston _ Augustana

 

14. What will you dance at your wedding?

Makes Me Wonder - Maroon 5

 

15. What will they play at your funeral?

Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5

 

16. What is your hobby/interest?

Poker Face - Lady Gaga

 

17. What Do You Think Of Your Friends?

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts CLub Band - the beatles

 

18. What's the worst thing that could happen?

Ask the LOnely - Journey

 

19. How will you die?

You found me - The fray

 

20. What is the one thing you regret?

Pictures of You - The Cure

 

21. What makes you laugh?

More than this - The Cure

 

22. What makes you cry?

Love Lockdown - Kanye West

 

23. Will You Ever Get Married?

Dead and Gone - Justin Timberlake

 

24. What scares you the most?

Inbetween Days - the cure

 

25. Does anyone like you?

That's not my Name - The Ting Tings

 

26. If you could go back in time, what would you change?

Be Good to Yourself - Journey

 

27. What hurts right now?

Gotta Be Somebody - NickleBack

 

Look in your inboxes my flickr friends, you may be next...

Charlie was strong. Stronger than I figure. Every hit I landed on him he was able to just shrug off. And when he landed hits on me, well...I think the bruises speak for themselves. Ow... At one point I was too slow, and he was able to get behind me and wrap his arm around my neck. Trying to pull his arm away was next to useless. That strength of his was too much. And through this fight of ours he showed that he knows how to use it. He wasn't like a million other goons I've taken on before. He was more than that. He actually knew what he was doing. That only made me ask more questions.

 

"You're not bad, Charlie. Why waste this on someone like Sammy?"

 

"I don't care about what she wants. I just wanted a chance.

 

"Chance at what?"

 

"A chance to kill power abusing scum like my dad. I got my wish, and I want more. I'll just have to settle with you."

 

"You're in for some disappointment, Charlie."

 

It takes pretty much all my strength, but I'm able to get my arm out and slam my elbow in his side as hard as I can. I do this at least six times before his grip around my neck loosens. I grab his arm and manage to throw him over me into the pile of rusty bikes. He hits the pile hard, knocked out. I loosen my neck out from that hold he put me in, and start searching for the idiot controlling the drone. I kick open one door and find a room lit only by some holes in the roof. The room has the same scrapes of an old, ugly paint scheme all over the dilapidated walls. I see 4 PC towers on the floor like the ones Me, Tim and Jackie found at the old hideout. Next to these towers was a folding table with a PC monitor and a laptop on it, among other things. But the biggest attention grabber was the nerdy looking kid pointing a six-shooter at me. He was nervous, trembling and barely holding onto the gun. That was when It hit me. This kid. I've only seen glimpses of him back at Brentwood, but I knew too well who it was. Cody Isaner, the runaway tech geek who apparently had a bad relationship with his dear old dad. He's gotta be the one running the drone. After all, I saw the screen of the laptop, looked like something from the Matrix. I sure as hell won't know what I'm doing running that laptop, so that makes Cody the only one who can stop the drone. Pounding his face in with my staff until he does stop it won't help much, either. I gotta talk this kid down. Shouldn't be too difficult, since we have some common traits. I put my staff on the ground next to me, promising him I'm not here to hurt him.

 

"Wh---why should I believe you!?"

 

"Trust me, If I wanted to hurt you, I would've done it already."

 

"Stay back! I'll---I'll shoot!"

 

"No, you won't."

 

"H--how do you know?"

 

"Because one; your grip on that gun is so bad you're more likely to pop yourself with it, and two; you're no killer. You were that one kid at the museum heist just shooting the ceiling. You couldn't hurt anyone."

 

"I can-- I can always start, y'know!"

 

"Really? Cody, what happened? Why are you running around with someone like Sammy? You're smarter than this!"

 

"I wanted to clean this city! S-stop power abusing jerks like my dad."

 

"Sammy fed you that didn't she? You're just here because you're mad at your dad, aren't you?"

 

"Don't talk to me like you know me! "

 

"But Cody, I kinda do. Your dad was lawyer, right? Embezzled alot of cash from clients according to the reports. Not a good role model. Neither was mine. He's the whole reason I'm doing this right now. This whole superhero thing."

 

"There's NO way he was worse then mine!"

 

"He was up there. But the point is Cody, I didn't start running around with a bad crowd because of how my dad was. I was stronger than that, and you can be too. Sammy wants you to think you're helping this city, but you're just helping her hurt innocent people. This isn't you, Cody. I can tell you're a good kid."

 

"But...Mayor Dini--"

 

"Is not the man Sammy wants to to think he is. And murdering him with a flying bomb won't do anything for you, Cody. It's just gonna make you no better than your dad. Do you really want that? To be your own worst enemy? C'mon, Cody. You're the only one who can stop this."

 

"Spinneret though. She gave me a home--"

 

"This? Cody, this room is the worst one in this building! She doesn't care about you, Cody. Just her own psychotic agenda. Please Cody, just stop helping her. You know you're better than this..."