#Crocus Behemoth

[musickickztoo]

RIP David Thomas

June 14, 1953 – April 23, 2025

[transpondster]

Pere Ubu, with Debbie Harry on background vocals and David Sanborn on saxophone, Waiting For Mary

c1989, from a long-gone weekly American TV show produced by Lorne Michaels, called, ‘Night Music’.

[paperbackyoga-blog]

Rocket From the Tombs

By Ed Staskus   It was sometime during the Me Decade that I discovered I was poor as a church mouse. I owned lots of dog-eared books, some clothes, and a car I didn’t dare drive. I didn’t own an alarm clock. I didn’t have any money in the bank because I didn’t have a bank account. I was living at the Plaza Apartments on Prospect Ave., where the rent was more than reasonable. I got by doing odd…

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Rocket From The Tombs - WMMS 101 FM, Cleveland, Ohio, February 23, 1975

Goodbye to David Thomas — AKA Crocus Behemoth — co-founder and longtime leader of Pere Ubu, that bewitching hive of Cleveland strangeness. Like Captain Beefheart or Mark E. Smith, he was a powerful catalyst, able to forge a singular vision out of wildly disparate elements (and wildly different lineups). A real character, the likes of which we probably won't see again.

David Says: We live in a world where everyone is afraid. The Emperor has no clothes but never dare to whisper it or you invite a heap of abuse and character assassination. So we do what folk musicians have done in similar circumstances for thousands of years. We encode the truth in tradition and a secret language that only others of our kind will understand. We make a pact with the geography we inhabit and together we speak of things seen through the cracks and seams of the world of humanity.

In Thomas' honor, let's go back to somewhere near the beginning — a WMMS broadcast of a Rocket From The Tombs rehearsal in early 1975. Some of this tape showed up on the essential The Day The Earth Met Rocket From The Tombs compilation, but it's very much worth hearing in its unedited form, with Peter Laughner's narrative asides included. Lurching from Stooges blowouts to Alice Cooper-style creeps to truly original masterpieces (the always astonishing "30 Seconds Over Tokyo"), RFTT blazes throughout, Thomas howling and hissing his way forward.

The band blazed a little too bright for their own good, of course, soon splintering into the Dead Boys and the first lineup of Pere Ubu. And hey, speaking of those early Ubu days, the vital Palmer Eldritch YouTube channel just shared a heretofore unheard recording of the band in early '76 ... allegedly playing a high school dance of some kind?! And what does the band play for the kids? That old La Cave anthem — the VU's "Heroin."

[weneverlearn]

R.I.P. David Thomas, aka Crocus Behemoth (Pere Ubu, Rocket from the Tombs, more...)

Where to start with this latest reminder of mortality...

David Thomas was the first ostensibly rock'n'roll voice I heard that really convinced me you can sound however the fuck you want to sound.

In 1986, I'd found Pere Ubu's debut LP, The Modern Dance (on the original Blank label, no less) sealed in a sale bin at the mall record store for 99 cents! (Also nabbed a sealed first Saints LP too. That was a good day. Also proof that our suburb had no taste. Apparently the store was clearing out a back room.)

Anyway, I'd already heard a bit of Pere Ubu, growing up in their hometown of Cleveland and all (albeit I was a tot during their birth). But hearing that whole album made me think about the bends R'n'R could take as much as seeing 2001: A Space Odyssey alone in a theater at age 12 made me rethink movies.

Ultimately discovering the pre-Pere Ubu, protopunk lynchpin, Rocket from the Tombs (that's David in the middle of the five up there) cemented not only Thomas' place in my musical heart, but the importance of Cleveland as punk ground zero. I've talked about that a lot in this blog, so you know.

Though it's worth adding that Thomas' sartorial sense was a thing to behold in found mag pix in Cleveland when I was a teen -- he seemed to go from Sun Ra acolyte to door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman, from Beatnik poet to shlubby psych professor.

I first saw Thomas in Pere Ubu when they did the "Avant Garage" reunion tour in 1987, down at Peabody's in Cleveland's Flats even, not a 1/4 mile from where RFTT once practiced. Was a great show, as was a David Thomas & Two Pale Boys set I saw there a couple years later, wherein Thomas often seemed like a stand-up comedian on visit from Pluto -- his sense of humor was always something I thought got short shrift. Even his surliest retorts in interviews or onstage were laced with subsumed smirks.

Never saw him again until the incredible first RFTT U.S. reunion show in Columbus, OH, at Little Brothers in 2003, and in Cleveland a couple weeks later. Columbus was everything I'd hoped it could be -- older but energized and hearing songs from 4 of the original 5 members I never thought I'd hear. Oddly, the Cleveland show wasn't quite as great though more interesting in its way, as the band seemed a wee nervous with so much family and old friends in the crowd -- especially Thomas. For a man who has a legendary rep as a curmudgeon, it was almost sweet to see him smiling and tipping his hat here and there. Still and all, a great show.

Looking back, those shows in ways bookended my time as an Ohioan, as I moved to NYC in 2004. I guess I saw and heard all I'd needed to, via two Rocket from the Tombs shows that seemed sent form the punk gods as a boot to my behind. Hell, even David Thomas eventually left Cleveland. That's like one of the old Flats factories getting up and taking a plane to London.

I saw a later iteration of Pere Ubu in Brooklyn circa early 2010s. It was solid and I'm glad I went. David was starting to seem sickly-ish around then, if still mewly menacing.

Until the very end, Thomas' presence was the startling focal point of any stage he trod upon. In the early punk days, lead singers were usually scrawny early 20-somethings jumping around in ripped jeans and a tee. Thomas though appeared as a preternaturally stern, 40-something principal, his searing eyes looking like he was about to banish you to the detention hall -- then eyelids pinching down closed fourfold, a facial expression of "The horror, the horror...." It all flew (or stewed) in the face of any seeming "punk template" that might've still been being developed into the 1980s, so that even by the time I finally saw him live, he seemed light years into the future of what the hell a "lead singer" might evolve into 40 years hence.

An event I remember pretty well was a really cool, free talk between David and rock historian Greil Marcus at a New School classroom on some random Wednesday night in 2009. The small crowd sat in desks while David and Marcus sat at the teacher's table and pontificated over hidden history, Ubu projects, Cleveland, the end of Industrial Age America, and even a few laughs.

I only met and tried to talk to David Thomas a few times over the years, and he was cordial enough and strange, as desired. He always struck me as the kind of person who assumes most people are, shall we say, intellectually lazy; and when he is sidled up next to one who isn't, like Marcus, he loosens up. That was a great night, pre-cellphone for me, no pix, just mind images...

I recall Thomas announced in some interview around the early 1990s, I believe, that there are too many bands, people should stop forming bands. Once Pere Ubu really ratcheted up again in the 2000s, sprouting around in different years and different iterations until his death, the whole thing turned into a project, constantly posting live shows, reissuing records, recording new ones, new RFTT albums even. So while technically he wasn't forming new bands, he sure was Dr. Frankensteining the hell out of 'em.

Of course now I'm bummed I skipped the last time Pere Ubu came to NYC, about a year ago. Though I heard from a friend who saw them a few times as far back as 1978 that it wasn't that good, as Thomas basically sat and complained the whole time -- which in and of itself might have been another intriguing experience from the man who started his career as a dive bar bouncer while writing for Scene Magazine in Cleveland, under the name of Crocus Behemoth. That I started my meager attempts at art-spew at Scene Magazine I uneasily take as some kind of connection.

What I soaked up from David Thomas' artistic endeavors was admittedly mostly from his era of living and working in Cleveland and NYC. Though I love the 1989 Pere Ubu album, Cloudland, as much as any, by that time, David was an ex-pat, and understandably so. America was never going to give a guy like that the barrel of back slaps he deserved. Not that he cared.

That knowing slant and dank noise was David Thomas' legacy for so many fans around the world, possibly most absorbed by his Northeast Ohio fans -- summed up perfectly for me by this interview quote from a Guardian article:

"Everything from Cleveland was doomed. Rocket from the Tombs is totally inconsequential and irrelevant. That is the power of Cleveland. Embrace, my brothers, the utter futility of ambition and desire.”

R.I.P. David Thomas, and thanks.

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

Pere Ubu (Official) Facebook obit

Cleveland.com obit

Check out this good interview from 2006, on the Bored Out blog.

From early Pere Ubu days; not sure of the photographer; if you know, please let me know so I can credit.

[homestuck-human-generator]

Name: Mr. Dori Merino Color: Syrup #481f01 Symbol: Crocus Strife Specibus: woodwindkind Handle: typifiedGamophobe Animal: armadillo Pronouns: he/him and it/its Age: 54 Birthday: August 5, which was a friday. Sexuality: straight Interests: butterfly watching and book collecting Dream Moon: prospit Classpect: Page of Hope Land: Land of Behemoths and Hellfire, a nice place, with nasty Chicken snake consorts. It is a place full of floating isles and canals. Hyperion can't be found. Instrument: trigon

[forbidden-sorcery]

The “progressives” who yearn to install a left-wing State want to use the power of that State to control other people’s habits, living patterns, moral conduct and worldview. This has been demonstrated time after time since the 1917 Russian Revolution, yet shockingly, many younger radicals (especially here in Eugene) continue to subscribe the myth that the Left is the good guy in an overly-simplistic cartoonish struggle against the “reactionary” capitalist class. But as anarchists, it’s obvious that there can be no cure for the disease of capitalism if the supposed “antidote” (the Left) is itself a carrier of the same virus of control and rigidity.

Crocus Behemoth - The Left-Handed Path of Repression (Green Anarchy magazine)

[bitter1stuff]

The Pere Ubu Story with David Thomas

[odk-2]

Peter Murphy - Final Solution (1986) Craig Bell / David Taylor / David Thomas / Peter Laughner / Scott Krauss / Tim Wright / Tom Herman Pere Ubu Cover from: "Should the World Fail to Fall Apart" LP

*** ***

Pere Ubu - Final Solution (1975): https://tmblr.co/ZoHQpk24H5yHC

[details2decern]

David Thomas, a.k.a Crocus Behemoth, Pere Ubu, CBGBs, NYC, circa 1978, by Mykel Board

Source: codebmus

[ft-dads-au]

Once Upon a Nightmare

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Absence Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

AO3 | Next: Ch 2

Summary: Sting was finally right where he wanted to be, back in Magnolia and living with Rogue. The reality, however, was not what he'd expected, especially when it seemed Rogue was hiding something from him. Never one to give up easily, Sting is determined to do what he can to help his partner and so they can have their happily ever after.

Chapter 1: Absence

June 6, 2014

Sting was convinced he was suffering from a caffeine overdose. Either that or his excitement was causing him to feel like he was vibrating, unable to sit still or stay focused. He had barely slept that night, staying on video chat with Rogue until he wasn't able to keep his eyes open anymore, and had woken up shortly after to find the chat still open and Rogue asleep on the other end. Cue a whole bunch of screenshots.

He'd decided on a late afternoon flight so he could spend some quality time with his parents before leaving. However, by the time he'd gotten on the plane, he'd had so many overly sweetened coffees, and cans of energy drinks that sleep was out of the question. Now he was restless, bouncing on his feet as he waited for what felt like forever for his giant suitcase to appear on the baggage carousel. When it finally did, he hauled it off, and it nearly toppled over as he raced to get in line for customs.

He was asked a few questions regarding the goods he had to declare, all food items he'd brought from Edolas knowing Rogue had liked them, and let out a sigh of relief when he was granted permission to go through the checkpoint. Finally, Sting was going to see his boyfriend face to face again, after another near 6 months of separation.

He weaved through the crowd as fast as he could without being a jerk to the other passengers, having lost the last of his patience. But the crowd disappeared from his radar when he spotted Rogue, his attention zeroing in on him as if he was the only one there. He was holding a bunch of white roses, and once he'd noticed Sting rushing towards him, he quickly put them up in front of his face, trying to hide the embarrassment that came with his beaming smile.

Before he was able to speak a word, Sting let go of the handle of his suitcase and launched himself at him, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. He put him back down again but didn't let go yet, claiming his lips in a hungry kiss instead.

"I missed you so much," Rogue interrupted briefly, for once not seeming to care about their extensive display of affection.

"I missed you too," Sting grinned as he finally broke their kiss, "but damn, what happened to you?" he gently squeezed Rogue's arms, convinced that they were firmer than the last time.

"What do you mean what happ- Hey!" Rogue shrieked when Sting cheekily lifted his shirt, exposing his abdomen, "Leave that!"

Sting obeyed, but not without whistling at the sight first. Although Rogue hadn't been in bad shape before, his muscles had certainly become more defined, something Sting hadn't yet noticed through the tiny window of their video chats. "Been working out?" he asked, taking his sweet time smoothing out Rogue's shirt.

"Yeah, I...needed something to keep me busy outside of college and studying, " Rogue shrugged. "Are you done with that?"

"Sure. For now."

He rolled his eyes and handed over the roses with a shy smile, "Uhm, for you...It's dumb, I know. I just felt weird showing up empty-handed."

"Dumb?" Sting joyfully accepted the roses and smelled them, "I think it's really cute."

Not sure how to respond to that, Rogue grabbed Sting's suitcase, pulling it along as he started making his way through the airport. "Geez, did you stuff your entire room into this behemoth or what?"

"Sort of. Don't worry, though, I'll take it."

"No." Rogue stubbornly refused to let go of the handle and grabbed Sting's other hand, intertwining their fingers. "Let's go home."

Sting laughed and happily followed, not minding that he was being beaten at his own game.

0-0

It struck him that on the way home in the car, Rogue was becoming increasingly absent the closer they got to Magnolia. And one of the traits Sting had always adored about him, his affinity for music that caused him to subconsciously tap his foot or fingers on any surface, or sing or hum along when a song was playing, didn't show itself. The radio was on, but Rogue didn't so much as nod to the rhythm of the beats.

Sting reached for Rogue’s hand on the steering wheel, giving it a squeeze before letting his own hand settle on Rogue's knee. "Are you nervous?" he wondered. They were essentially moving in together, so he'd have fair reason to be. Hell, Sting was kind of nervous himself.

"A little," Rogue admitted, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, "I just...there's a lot going on."

"Hmhm," Sting hummed, aware of the lack of contact Rogue had with his family lately.

Not long after returning from his Edolas visit, he’d gone over to see his brother in Crocus for the weekend. From what he’d told Sting about it, it hadn’t gone too well, and less than two weeks later, he’d found out through someone else that Gray had gotten married. Angry and hurt as he was, Rogue hadn’t spoken to Gray ever since.

His parents weren’t any better, they had promised to come see him when they’d be going on vacation leave but canceled last-minute. Rogue’s calls rarely got answered. He spent days waiting for responses to the texts he’d sent them. Logically he was worried, annoyed, feeling abandoned, but Sting was determined to brighten up his days as best as he could until the situation improved and after.

"Well, we're almost there, you can tell me everything that's bothering you when you don't have traffic to focus on. I brought you those snacks you hoarded when you came over for Christmas."

"Really?"

That seemed to lift Rogue's spirits a little, but when he noticed the time on the dashboard clock, he quickly reasoned, "We should have dinner first. Drive-thru?"

"Sounds great! Pick whatever you're in the mood for."

After the short detour to get food, they arrived at the house, so eager to eat from the smell that filled the car that they decided to leave Sting's big suitcase in the trunk for later. Sting just grabbed his backpack, the flowers, and the bag containing their food, so that Rogue only had the cardboard drink holder to worry about while he locked the car and opened the front door.

Sting hadn't been there in about a year, but the memories resurfaced as soon as he walked into the hallway and looked around the living room. It felt good to come back to the house he'd been able to call home for a while, and that would hopefully stay his home for a long time.

He looked at Rogue, who seemed equally struck by the realization, nervously excited because they'd been looking forward to this moment for so long. Now that it finally arrived and they were really going to do this, it all felt so surreal.

"Welcome back," Rogue spoke softly, and Sting could only guess the kind of impact this moment had on him, after a year of living alone.

“You’re stuck with me now,” Sting grinned easily, wanting to reinforce for Rogue that this wasn’t a visit, that they were really taking this step. Neither of them would have to be alone again.

“We’ll see, if our room starts to look like yours did in Edolas, I might have to reconsider my options,” Rogue replied, and Sting was glad to see a small smile trying to peek through.

Our room. Sting loved the sound of that, his own room had felt so lonely ever since Rogue had flown home all those months ago. He got stuck in a daydream, thinking about all the times they’d spent in that room together before he left and looking forward to the times they’d be spending in there. Going to sleep together, waking up together. Only his rumbling stomach was able to snap him out of it.

He quickly put the flowers in the sink and unpacked their bag of food on the kitchen table, dividing the order between the two of them. Shoving two fries in his mouth, he sat down and pulled out the chair next to him, motioning for Rogue to sit there instead of at the other side of the table. With a little bit of effort, he was able to pull his phone out of his pocket, remembering he hadn’t called his parents yet. Searching through the apps until he found the one he was looking for, he leaned closer to Rogue and started a video call.

His parents seemed to have been waiting for it, considering it barely rang twice before the call was answered, and they were both visible on the screen, waving at him and Rogue.

“It’s working, I can see you!” his mom called out, happily surprised, even though he’d given them a thorough explanation on how to make and answer video calls before he left.

“Yes, mom, it’s working. Just like it did when we practiced,” he rolled his eyes at her but smiled nevertheless. “We just got home, everything went well.���

“That’s good to hear son, I was concerned your plane might crash under the weight of your luggage.”

His dad’s joke made Rogue snort loudly and struggle not to choke on the burger he’d just sank his teeth into, but once he’d cleared his mouth he joined in, “It’s a miracle the car would still move forward, thank God all the bedrooms are at the ground floor.”

“Yes, ha ha, you two are hilarious,” Sting sighed. However, he was happy that Rogue was enjoying himself chatting with his dad, even when they hijacked the conversation with another never-ending book discussion. It might not have been his own father he was talking to, but they’d gotten along great from the beginning, so Sting just let them rave on, giving his mother a shrug and digging into his food as he tuned out.

Eventually, Sting’s mother cleared her throat, sending her husband an amused frown. “Oh, right,” he chuckled, “well, let me know once you’ve finished it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!”

“Will do,” Rogue promised, ”but it might take me awhile, I was thinking about doing some work around the house. And I’m going to look for a part-time job as well.”

“Oh, that sounds great! Make sure Sting gets a job too.” His mother’s words were directed at Rogue, but the stern look she reserved just for Sting, “No lazing around, young man.”

She shifted her tone completely, joyfully chirping, “Well, we won’t keep you away from your dinner any longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening, we’ll talk again soon.”

“Thanks, you too. Bye mom, dad.” They all waved each other goodbye, and Sting ended the call.

Curiously, he turned to Rogue, “Work around the house? That’s new, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking-” Rogue paused to take a sip from his milkshake, “My bedroom is our bedroom now, we should revamp it so that it looks and feels that way. Pick out some stuff we both like, together. I want you to feel at home.”

Overwhelmed by how much that meant to him, all Sting could offer in response was a sappy grin and a tease to stop himself from getting too sentimental. “Bold of you to assume that we can blend our tastes,” he chuckled.

“No, I fully expect it’s gonna look like a unicorn threw up at a Halloween party.”

They fell silent, looking at each other and trying to envision what that would look like, not being able to hold back their amusement for long. It was funny now, but as much as their styles differed, chances were high that it would take a lot of bickering for them to agree on something, and yet, Sting didn’t care. It really did feel like coming home.

0-0

Once dinner and cleanup were out of the way, Sting went to grab his suitcase from the car and rolled it into the bedroom, agreeing with Rogue’s earlier statement that it was a good thing he didn’t have to drag it up a flight of stairs.

He moved it to a spot on the floor near the bed and took out some of his toiletries to put away in the bathroom. The rest could wait, the effects of all the sugar and caffeine were wearing out, and knowing he was going to crash soon, he’d much rather devote his remaining energy to doing something fun with Rogue.

They got ready for bed and huddled together under the sheets, a new series on Netflix playing on the tv that they had both been wanting to watch but agreed to wait until they could watch it together. It looked promising from the start, but Sting’s primary focus was on Rogue, who had made himself comfortable lying on his chest.

Sting had lost track of the number of times he’d pictured this moment a long time ago, but what he knew for sure was that it felt better than he could’ve ever imagined. He placed a kiss on the top of Rogue’s head, carefully removing the elastic band that was holding up his hair in a messy bun. For some reason, Rogue had decided to grow it out. It reached all the way down to his shoulders, and Sting loved the way it looked on him.

“I’ve so been dying to do this,” he admitted, reveling in the smooth slide against his fingers and the content hum he received in response as he combed through Rogue’s hair. "And this-" he bent down for a kiss, couldn't stop from grinning as Rogue met him halfway and murmured in mock protest, "I'm trying to watch this," but continued kissing him anyway.

With the faint noises of the tv in the background, the soft sheets wrapped around them, and Rogue's lips on his skin, Sting found himself rapidly drifting off to sleep. He tried to fight it as much as he could, wanting to stay awake and continue what they were doing, but he never stood a chance. He could vaguely hear Rogue chuckling and wishing him a good night, but then his exhaustion inevitably caught up to him.

0-0

A week had passed since he’d moved in, and Sting was quickly adjusting to his new life. He’d just come back from his morning run, a habit he’d gotten into when he’d started college. It had been a suggestion from his father, who had said that it had helped him get through med school, making him feel alert for morning classes and giving him more energy throughout the day.

At first, Sting had thought his old man was crazy, considering how exhausted he felt after his first few attempts, but he’d stuck with it, and after a few weeks, he’d started feeling the benefits.

He turned on the water in the shower and stripped off his sweaty exercise clothes as he waited for it to warm up, making a quick trip to the hamper and grabbing a fresh towel from the linen closet.

Standing under the scalding heat, Sting smiled, humming to himself as he lathered, thinking ahead to what they had planned for today. He and Rogue were going to go shopping for house items knowing that once school started, neither would have the time to do any big projects. Paint, additional shelving, bedsheets, and decorative items to replace some old stuff and give their bedroom a new look were just some of the items on their list.

He heard the distinctive ring of the doorbell but chose to ignore it, even though he was expecting an important package to be delivered he knew Rogue was probably already up and about by now. When it rang once again, he grumbled but got out, drying his feet on the bath mat before grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his hips.

At the third ring, he dashed out to answer, not wanting to have to deal with the hassle of waiting and tracking the package down at the delivery service. Sting opened the door to find a man standing outside but no package visible anywhere. Upon closer inspection, and given the immediate frown that crossed his face at seeing him, Sting he was able to easily identify Rogue’s ex and previous bandmate, Totomaru.

Sting held on to his towel firmly, feeling even more naked under the man’s gaze.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Totomaru muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes quickly moving away from Sting and settling on the window just beyond the door.

Sting was a bit confused by the man’s behavior, there was something different about him. He seemed nervous around him, a marked change from his previous barely contained contempt the few times they’d interacted. Not knowing how to react to that, he decided to give him his widest smile in response. “Can I help you with something?”

Totomaru blinked at him, obviously confused by the smile, but he quickly replied, “I was hoping to speak to Rogue?”

Sting heard a noise behind him, and when he turned to see where it had come from saw Rogue looking more agitated than he’d ever seen him before, shaking his head and waving his hands vigorously in response to Sting’s raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s not here at the moment,” Sting made sure to fix his eyes on their visitor, knowing he was a horrible liar on the best of days. “Maybe try calling next time before you show up,” he hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but he didn’t like the way Rogue was acting, it was very unlike him, and that combined with Totomaru’s strange behavior was making Sting think something was up.

“Right, good idea. I’ll do that,” Totomaru flashed him a nervous smile and, with a small wave, quickly turned around and walked away.

Sting watched him leave, trying to quiet the unease the unexpected visit had created within him. Closing the door, he entered the bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes from the suitcase that still lay sprawled open in a corner by his side of the bed, determined to ask what was going on, but when he reached the kitchen, Rogue was already gone.

His pack of cigarettes was no longer sitting on the kitchen counter, giving Sting a good idea of where he went, and sure enough, he found him smoking on the deck.

“Well, that was awkward,” Sting admitted, smiling as he sat down on the bench swing and enjoyed the feel of the sun on his skin. He pretended to drape an arm around an invisible person next to him, quirking his head and giving Rogue the big pleading eyes that said come sit with me.

“Did you have a good run?" Rogue asked through a cloud of smoke as he claimed the space Sting was offering him. He might have gotten his way with that, but the way Rogue ignored the elephant in the room, on top of both his and Totomaru’s odd reactions from a few minutes ago, further reinforced his earlier feeling, giving Sting weird vibes that he couldn't quite place.

"Yeah, it was great! I think I saw a new coffee shop on the way, we should check it out sometime." He debated whether he should ask what that was all about or not, but Rogue interrupted him before he had the chance.

"Sounds good, maybe we can stop by after we're done shopping?"

And thinking about the day ahead of them, he decided not to risk spoiling the mood. He could always ask later.

0-0

Sting entered their room, carrying the large box for the shelving unit they had bought at the hardware store. He moved over to the corner to lay it against the wall when his foot got tangled on something. What followed was a loud crash as he lost his balance and fell, losing his grip on the heavy box on his way down. The box ripped open on contact with the hard floor, dumping its million pieces all over the bedroom floor.

“Son of a-” Sting muttered even as he heard Rogue hurry into the room.

“Are you okay?”

Clearly, Rogue didn’t need to ask what had happened because even though Sting attempted to get some sympathy by putting on his best puppy eyes, Rogue’s face mostly said I told you so.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sting sighed, looking at the mess that was now on their floor, “I guess we should make sure none of the shelves broke and check for all the pieces.

“I’ll do that, why don’t you finally unpack that menace of a suitcase before you manage to kill yourself with it.”

“Fine fine,” Sting grumbled, exiting the room briefly in search of the hangers they had bought.

He wasn’t a neat person by nature. Cleaning up was boring as hell, but he could tell Rogue was not amused by his messiness, and he realized then that the advice he’d gotten from his mother was sound. He was going to have to put in more of an effort now that he was living with someone else, especially one who was so much organized than he could ever hope to be.

Sting vaulted over the bed, hangers in hand, causing Rogue to scold him once again. Giving his boyfriend one last charming smile, he put his earphones in and got to work. He’d managed to put away most of his shoes and had moved on to putting his nicer shirts and pants on the hangers and into the space that Rogue had cleared for him in the closet.

He noticed a cardboard box sitting on one of the shelves as he looked around for a place to put his exercise clothes and frowned at it thoughtfully. Having already filled the two drawers Rogue had emptied for him with underwear, socks, and t-shirts, there wasn’t really any other place left. With a slight shrug, he decided there was no harm in seeing if there was anything important in it. He tried to grab it with his one free hand but only managed to dump all the contents on the floor instead. Seriously what was going on with him today?

Sting took off his headphones, unsure of whether that had made enough noise for Rogue to notice. When he didn’t hear anything, he put the exercise clothes in the now empty shelf and knelt on the floor, intent on grabbing the items and returning them to the box.

He stared in astonishment, swiftly recognizing most of the items as things left behind when he’d moved out, and after stopping to read a comic book he’d been missing, Sting put everything back in the box. Even though they were his things, he felt awkward, as though he’d intruded into a part of Rogue’s loneliness he hadn’t been meant to see.

A piece of paper caught his attention, and he picked it up, wondering what else he might have left behind. Once unfolded, it didn’t take him long to recognize Rogue’s neat handwriting, a stark contrast to what his father liked to call his early attempts at doctor writing.

For a brief moment, Sting considered folding the paper back up and putting it back in the box with the other items, but knowing his boyfriend, it was bound to be a poem or a song. He was curious as to why it would have ended up in the box in the first place, and once the first few lines had caught his eye, he couldn't stop reading.

Even now, I still hear your voice

Even now, I still feel your touch

And today I lived within traces of you

Sting didn’t know much about music, but he knew feelings, and he could very much sense the pain that lived in those words. His eyes welled up as he continued to read the words that Rogue had written out to try to get him out of his heart, remembering some of the lonely nights he’d endured in Edolas, not being able to let go of Rogue either.

Many of them he’d spent in his old treehouse so as not to worry his parents. Not that it had mattered, they knew him far too well, and he’d never be able to thank them enough for not only encouraging him to invite Rogue to visit over the holidays but for letting him go so that he could be here now.

He reread the words. They were beautiful and haunting, and all he could think of was that he wanted to hear Rogue play this song, knowing there had to be a melody to accompany it. Driven by how the words had made him feel, he charged back into their bedroom, promptly forgetting that Rogue seemed to have removed himself from his music or how he’d come across the song in the first place.

Sting found that all the pieces to the shelving unit had been laid out neatly on the bed along with the instructions, and although Rogue wasn’t there, he could hear noises coming from the kitchen, so he went in search of him.

“Hey!” Rogue smiled, pointing towards the plates of sandwiches he’d prepared, “I saw you were making some good progress, figured we might want to eat before tackling the shelves. I know how you get when you’re hungry,” he teased.

Sting realized he was indeed hungry the moment he smelled the food, “Good shout,” he complimented, heading to the fridge to grab them some sodas before joining Rogue at the table.

Placing the paper on the table, he took a large bite out of the sandwich, chasing it down with a long swig of the soda.

“What do you have there?” Rogue asked, looking at the paper with interest.

“I found it while I was cleaning up,” Sting hesitated, wondering how best to phrase it, “It was mixed in with my stuff, so I thought it was mine. I was sorta hoping you’d play it for me,” he added, feeling strangely shy.

Rogue picked up the paper, reading it before balling it up and throwing it in the trash. “I never really did anything with it, it wasn’t very good.”

Sting rushed to the trash bin to grab it before it could get mixed in with the rest of the trash. “What are you talking about, this is amazing!”

“No offense, but you don’t really know anything about music.”

“What is going on with you?” Sting entreated, letting some of his concerns slip out. “You used to love music, it was such a big part of you, and now it’s like it never existed. I haven’t even seen your guitar since I got here.”

Rogue shrugged, but he wouldn’t meet Sting’s eyes, and that was a huge glaring signal that something was indeed wrong. “I got busy, and I just haven’t felt like it lately, that’s all. I’ve been focusing more on my writing.”

“Do you want some ice cream?” Rogue asked, not waiting for a response as he knew Sting well enough to know the answer. He soon returned with two pints and some spoons.

“So, are you all unpacked?” Just like that, the conversation had shifted, and for the second time that day, Sting decided to let it go, but as he ate his ice cream, he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was going on, Totomaru had something to do with it.

0-0

It wasn’t until he was pulled out of it and back to reality that Sting realized he’d been dreaming. The dream vanished from his memory instantly, driven away by slight annoyance because it had certainly been a good one, and even if it wasn’t, he was far from well-rested. That annoyance didn’t stick for long either, as he slowly regained his orientation, he identified the cause of his rude awakening in the middle of the night.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had been in the realm of dreams. Feeling movement beside him, he groggily rolled over, finding Rogue kicking at the sheets and groaning in his sleep.

“Rogue?” Sting rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to get accustomed to the dark, but when it didn’t work, he sat up to turn on the fairy lights he’d brought from home and hung up above their bed. He blinked again, this time to get used to the dim light that was now spreading through the room.

“Rogue,” he repeated, louder this time, gently nudging his arm, “Hey, are you-”

He’d already suspected that Rogue’s dream was less pleasant than the one he had been having, and the distress that showed on his face confirmed that. What he hadn’t been prepared for was to find Rogue clawing at his own throat, leaving raw scratch marks that stood out sharply against the pale tone of his skin. Sting was wide awake now, didn’t even stop to think if it would be a good idea to wake him up or not, nor did he consider what would be the best way to do it. He acted out of pure reflex when he leaned over to grab Rogue’s hands and stop him from hurting himself, forgetting the situation that was a result of his own dream until it brushed against Rogue’s hip.

Bad move. Bad, bad move. For whatever reason, Rogue completely freaked out and started thrashing, and Sting was in an unfortunate position within the range of his knee.

“OW! MOTHERF-”

It was like the lights went off for a second, an excruciating pain shot through his body and kept coming back in nauseating waves, and all he could do was shove his hands between his legs and curl up into a ball. Trying to breathe through it, Sting prayed to every divine entity he could think of that he wouldn’t violently expel his undigested food while at the same time wondering if he’d ever be able to father children.

Through his pain, he felt a violent shift beside him, followed by the sound of Rogue gasping for breath. It worried him, considering where Rogue’s hands had been during his nightmare.

At least he was awake now, steadily calming down and noticing Sting’s misery. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick?” He expressed his concerns, reaching out his hand to check Sting for a fever.

“Don’t,” Sting warned, and if he wasn’t currently wallowing in his despair, he would’ve likely felt guilty for snapping, “just....give me a moment.”

After what felt like forever, he was finally able to straighten his back and sit up again, and looking at Rogue, he could tell that he’d pieced together the puzzle on his own. He was shocked, withdrawn, and for the second time that day, he wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Rogue, is there something I should know?”

No answer, but Sting wasn’t about to let it slide this time. Whatever was bothering Rogue had led to both of them getting hurt, a now dull ache, and the sight of the angry red marks on Rogue’s throat attested to that.

“Okay, fine,” he sighed, starting to count on his fingers. “So just to summarize real quick. Your ex shows up out of the blue, acting nervous as hell, and for some reason, you really don’t want him to see or speak to you. Even though last time I checked, you still used to be friends.”

Sting waited for some sort of response to his statement, but when it wasn’t forthcoming, he continued.

“You’ve completely abandoned something that you once loved, and don’t give me any of that I haven’t been in the mood bullshit," he quickly added when he saw Rogue was about to protest. “It isn’t just the fact that you’re not playing anymore, you don’t even react to music in the same way as you used to.”

“And if that wasn’t enough of a warning bell, I wake up to you trying to gouge your own neck.” Sting stared at the scratches intently, and it didn’t escape him that it was making Rogue really uneasy. “It’s not the first time either. You had a nightmare just as bad as this one in Edolas.”

He’d been so worked up about the matter that he hadn’t realized he’d been steadily raising his voice until the contrast of the silence between them brought it to his attention. Shit, he didn’t want Rogue to think he was angry, he just wanted to let him know he was worried, that he cared. With that in mind, he softened his voice again, and although he wasn’t sure how Rogue would react, he took the risk and carefully skated his hand over the blanket until it reached Rogue’s, and he could brush over it with his pinky.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Sting begged. not bothering to disguise the worry he felt, “because it’s obvious that something is.”

Rogue took a deep breath and sighed immediately afterward, putting Sting on edge for what he had to say, but all hope he had of getting him to talk sunk like a brick when Rogue finally opened his mouth.

“I can’t tell you.”

And to make matters worse, he was getting out of bed, not just dodging the topic but walking away from him. Sting wanted to protest, tell him to get his ass back to bed, ask him why he couldn’t tell him, but to his surprise, Rogue moved over to the dresser rather than leaving the room, and came back holding what Sting easily recognized as the notebook he’d given him for Christmas.

“But I can show you,” he said, holding out the notebook with shaky hands. He waited for Sting to take it, and then he picked his sleep shirt off the floor and left after all.

Sting was torn between a sense of accomplishment, curiosity, and dread, relieved to know he would finally find out what caused Rogue’s sorrows but scared for what he’d find. Opening the book, he concluded that it was a journal, and at first, he wasn’t sure what entry or entries he should be looking for. The first one dated back to January 3rd, the day Rogue had flown back home from Edolas, and although reading about all the good times they’d had brought a smile to Sting’s lips, it gave him nothing to go on.

He read a few more entries, fascinated by the idea of getting to know Rogue’s thoughts until one caught his attention, a page on which Rogue’s elegant handwriting was messy and smudged in some places. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Sting’s mind, this was the one, it stood out like a sore thumb. His heart began to race as he started reading the first line, containing a date that was ominously out of place.

November 27th, 2013

A/N: This story picks up after the events of Let It Rain and All I Want For Christmas, and will contain references to sexual assault. It will deal with how Rogue's refusal to get help affects not only him but Sting as well, putting an immediate strain in their relationship.

[wallpapernifty]

This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers

The company’s problems accommodate amount overruns on assorted megaprojects and a Securities and Exchange Commission analysis into whether it appropriately accounted for $714 million in overruns and added costs in 2019. It’s cryptic whether the SEC analysis includes the Purple Band project.

With its banal amount coast in contempo years, the all-around architecture behemothic afresh arise that because of “economic disruption” from the coronavirus communicable and added problems, it would accept to append advantageous shareholders a dividend.

“The agglutinate is apparently a little beneath [for Fluor] to cull the plug” on the Purple Line, said Andrew Wittmann, a arch analysis analyst for Robert W. Baird & Co. “By walking away, they cut their losses afore it potentially gets worse and they accept a bigger banking hit to the company.”

Meanwhile, afterwards Fluor and its accomplice companies arise affairs aftermost ages to abdicate the Purple Line, two appraisement agencies downgraded the project’s bonds to clutter cachet because of accretion accident that it will be larboard uncompleted.

Fluor’s banking problems underlie acute negotiations over the accomplished six weeks as Maryland busline admiral try to save a bequest activity for Gov. Larry Hogan (R) from catastrophe up as a 16-mile swath of alone architecture sites through the Washington suburbs.

This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers – light purple flowers | Pleasant for you to my own blog site, in this time I am going to explain to you about keyword. And now, here is the 1st photograph:

Purple Flowers Arrangement In Square Glass Vase OM – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Why don’t you consider graphic preceding? is usually of which wonderful???. if you think maybe so, I’l t provide you with a few graphic once more down below:

So, if you’d like to acquire the great graphics about (This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers), click save link to save these pictures for your laptop. They are prepared for obtain, if you love and want to have it, simply click save badge in the post, and it’ll be instantly downloaded to your desktop computer.} Lastly if you like to obtain new and recent image related to (This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers), please follow us on google plus or save the site, we attempt our best to present you daily update with all new and fresh graphics. We do hope you like staying here. For many up-dates and latest information about (This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers) shots, please kindly follow us on tweets, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on bookmark area, We attempt to offer you up-date regularly with fresh and new photos, like your surfing, and find the right for you.

Here you are at our website, contentabove (This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers) published .  At this time we are excited to declare we have found an incrediblyinteresting nicheto be reviewed, namely (This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers) Many people trying to find specifics of(This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers) and of course one of these is you, is not it?

Light Purple or Violet Mum Flowers in The Garden by Steaf Pong – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Proven Winners Superbells Evening Star (Calibrachoa) Live .. | light purple flowers

Lavender flowers light purple silhouettes – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Light purple Rhodendron 2016 – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

White crocus flower on light purple background – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Light Purple Flower Images : Wallpapers13 | light purple flowers

Beautiful Light Purple Hydrangea Flowers On White .. | light purple flowers

Cosmos caudatus – Wikipedia – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Galaxy S20 Walls – Purple Daisies (With images) | Light purple .. | light purple flowers

Plant full with blooming light purple flowers – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Light purple Peony – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Chinese mesona’s light purple flowers blooming(Platostoma palustre) – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Romantic Warm Light Purple Flowers Hand Painted Garland – John 20 .. | light purple flowers

Flowers Phlox styloid Candy Stripes. Small light purple flowers in .. | light purple flowers

Light purple flowers – pictures of Penstemon Virgatus .. | light purple flowers

gousicteco: Light Purple Flowers Tumblr Images – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Wallpaper Traffic lights, Street lights, Dark, Photography .. | light purple flowers

Limonium Caspia, misty blue – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

Light Purple Flowers by Edward Myers – light purple flowers | light purple flowers

The post This Is Why Light Purple Flowers Is So Famous! | Light Purple Flowers appeared first on Flower Nifty.

from Wallpaper Nifty https://www.flowernifty.com/this-is-why-light-purple-flowers-is-so-famous-light-purple-flowers/

[spacklefritz]

Shifting Tides - Chpt Two

A/N: Here’s chapter two. Hope you enjoy. On another note though, chapter 3 may take a longer time to come out..School seems to be getting in the way (and it’s only the third week TT_TT) Rating: T

Previous: Chapter 1, ff.net

Summary:  No matter what she did, she always felt the pull of the land. Somewhere free from her father’s domain. It was an impossible dream, until it wasn’t. Mermaid AU   

Days after watching the humans dance so freely around the fire, Lucy found herself constantly returning to the sheer joy upon their faces, the loud laughter that she could feel from her shadowy spot behind the rocks. It was as if they looked at the world, took what it offered, and spat it out. 'There was joy to be had in the world,' they dared, 'and you won't stop me from it.'

She thought of the man on the beach and his...were they friends? She thought of the cause for which they fought, how they didn't back down. She thought of her mother, how her father would always disparage her mother as weak, as mad, yet she still managed to impart her stories to her daughter. How she'd always greet Lucy with a smile as she told the stories of her people in a clear and lucid voice. She thought of, how even in the last, when her mother was trapped in the spiraling towers of the Reef Palace, she never looked defeated.

With all those thoughts in mind, she found herself swimming away from her father's domain. A certain fluttering in her chest akin to that of a bird flapping its wings, readying for flight. She didn't quite know where she was headed, but she could no longer stay where she was. She could no longer force herself to be the obedient daughter. Not when it meant suffocating the light inside her. Not when freedom was in her grasp. So, in the stillness of the deep sea, when everyone slept, she stole herself away.

She swam for hours without rest, riding on the currents, to quicken her pace. She needed to be far away from her father's reach as soon as possible.

She was well on her journey to the greater unknown when she saw it, the behemoth of a ship. Multiple sails blowing in the wind. She'd seen something like this before, seen the symbols that marked the sails. She never dared to go up close, because everyone knew what happened when humans learned an Otherkind was near.

A shudder ran down her spine, tail making small ripples in the sea.

The people aboard the ship, were just as cruel as the Otherkind said. She remembered that ship. Remembered the angry shouts she heard coming from her island village. She remembered the condescending laughter that followed and the expressions on the village people's faces as they watched the ship sail from their shores.

Lucy closed her eyes as she tried to remember the different land masses she had passed. Surely, the ship wasn’t headed to her island. But, even if it weren't so, could she really just watch as the people on that vessel plundered another village of its wealth?

She watched as the ship headed the direction from which she came and clenched her fists tightly. She had a decision to make.

Natsu ambled along the shoreline. His hands folded behind his head. The weeks were passing by and Natsu felt considerably lighter. An almost giddy sense of joy was running through his veins. The month was almost up and he wouldn't be landlocked anymore. He’d just spoken to Erza and Gray, and it was decided that they’d head to the southern isles. It was far away enough from Crocus' reach. Despite not regretting their actions, Erza was right. They had taken a risk when they jumped Crocus' ship this close to their base. If they sold any of the items at the usual markets, chances were high some Crocus official would make note of it. Heading to the Southern Isles would also allow Natsu to look into the rumours of the dragon sighting. It was a win-win for everyone and Natsu couldn’t help the smile that formed.

This was it.

Stretching out his hands, he looked towards the sea, mind absently scanning for anything out of the ordinary. He hadn’t felt the sea creature’s mind for a while. It had only returned once more, a certain determination surrounding them. It would've worried him, but he was absolutely sure that whatever its decision, Magnolia had nothing to fear from it. It only had wonder and a sense of peace whenever it swam close to Magnolia’s shores.

He turned, ready to head back to the village when he felt it.

Desperation, urgency. A sense of being run ragged came over him.

He swung his head to side and stared or at the ocean. Expanding his senses further, he scanned the water.

Eyes widened, he rushed out and waded out into the ocean.

'Beware, the Sirens boy. They'll call draw you out with their songs and drown you with their music.’

But this was a case where Igneel was wrong. Not only was a Siren a part of their village, whatever this sea creature was, Siren or Merperson, there had never been any mystical lure out to catch him. And whoever this being was, there was never anything antagonistic about them.

Kicking his legs harder, he tried to swim faster.

Could underwater beings drown?

That shouldn't be possible right?

Damnit! He should've called for Juvia, but – the mind seemed to be flickering in and out now. Shit! Where was it? He paused, threading the water in circles. This far out into the sea he couldn't pin-point the mind. He element was stronger on land. It would be difficult to sense anything with the water surrounding them.

Shit!

"Hello?" He shouted. If one method wouldn't work, he would just have to move to Plan B. "If you can hear me, move toward the sound of my voice." He scanned the area, felt a vague flicker or something to the east. He started swimming.

 Warn the villagers. Crocus' ship was coming.

The thoughts rang over in her mind, and loud clanking that only just overpowered the blood rushing through her veins. How long was she swimming for? When was the last stop she made? She couldn't think on it.

She followed the ship, hoping to find some clue as to where they were headed. It didn't take her long, drunk humans had the tendency to get very loud and clumsy. When she heard their destination, there was no question that Lucy wouldn't warn the humans.

She just had to reach them before the ship did.

How much distance had she covered? How far behind was the ship? She needed to stop thinking. Already her speed was decreasing. She just needed to focus.

Warn the villagers. Crocus' ship was coming.

A mind reached out, Otherkind, but not quite. Lucy reached out to it but floundered. She was winded, but she needed to press on. Maybe she was far enough to go above water? She broke the surface of the water, gulping in large amounts of air, only to choke on it. Her body's reaction slow in adapting from air to water.

Damnit! She must have lost a lot of energy. But she needed to warn the villagers. She had to move forward. She just needed to wait for her body to catch up. She coughed again, dormant lungs, trying to push out the water. Dark spots dotted her vision, and she tried desperately to take in more air. But, her gills were still there. Her body caught mid-change. She couldn't return underwater either, now that her lungs were working.

She tried to slow down her breathing, knew that hyperventilating would only make it worse. But the panic had set in and she was just barely staying afloat.

She couldn't go out like this. She tried to breathe. Her body taking in only whisper of air.

She needed to warn the villagers. It felt like something was cutting of her air supply. The black spots were increasing. She needed to -

A warm hand held her shoulders. She tried to speak. But just as she couldn't take in air, she could neither expel it. A low curse sounded and her shoulders were pushed back into the water. Then her neck, again supported by those warm hands. It did something to ease the panic, not fully. But just about. She could manage to rein in some of desperate grabs for air. Soon everything but her face was below water, and she could feel the water as it passed through her gills. Cool. Refreshing.

A moment passed. Then another.

She might've heard more of that same low cursing, might've heard some enquiries but the weight of the past few days finally caught up on her and a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Her body going lax. She forced her eyes open, not even knowing they closed, and looked into eyes so dark she couldn't determine their colour. Pink eyebrows furrowed, face streaked with concern.

"Crocus..." Her voice was hoarse and her throat dry. "Their ships," Another breath, another break and she tried to form the words, her body demanding its rest. "...they're coming."

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Resurrecting Rocket From The Tombs (2004)

Here’s a Sunday interview with both Richard Lloyd and Cheetah Chrome, back when they were rocketing from the tombs. Still need to read Lloyd’s memoir. In the meantime, you can check out Jason’s interview with the guitarist. 

Rocket From the Tombs formed 30 years ago, but the legendary Cleveland band has only just got around to releasing its debut album, Rocket Redux (Smog Veil). Of course, a lot has transpired in between the group's initial breakup in 1975 and its subsequent, entirely unexpected reformation in early 2003 to play an L.A. festival. "There was a total standing ovation," said RFTT guitarist Richard Lloyd, on the phone from New York. "It was as if it was some sort of opera, with the whole theater exploding at the end." 

The original quintet — vocalist David Thomas (AKA Crocus Behemoth), guitarist Cheetah Chrome (AKA Gene O'Connor), guitarist Peter Laughner, drummer Johnny Mandansky, and bassist Craig Bell — played a ferocious brand of proto-punk that drew equally from The Stooges, the MC5, and the Velvet Underground. In the group's repertoire were three songs that would become punk classics: "Sonic Reducer" (as recorded by Chrome's next band, the Dead Boys), "30 Seconds Over Tokyo," and "Final Solution" (as recorded by Thomas' next band, Pere Ubu). So volatile were the personalities of RFTT's principal players that after a handful of earthshakingly loud gigs in and around Cleveland, the band split acrimoniously without ever recording a studio album. In late 1975 Thomas formed Pere Ubu, the acclaimed art-rock combo that he continues to lead to this day, while Cheetah Chrome hooked up with vocalist Stiv Bators to found the nihilistic mid-'70s punk group the Dead Boys. Laughner fronted a succession of short-lived bands before drinking and drugging himself to an early grave in 1977. Mandansky and Bell simply dropped out of sight. Rocket From the Tombs' story did not end there, however. Over the years, the band attained what can only be described as a mythic aura, thanks to the cover versions by Thomas and Chrome's respective bands, as well as a handful of lo-fidelity bootlegs. By the early '90s, RFTT had become the ultimate "cult" act — a band more people had heard of than actually heard. That all changed in 2002, when an official Rocket From the Tombs document was finally released. Made up of rehearsals and live recordings, The Day the Earth Met Rocket From the Tombs showed the band to be a powerful creative force, mixing an adventurous, experimental spirit with bone-crunching riffs and an aggressive performance style. The CD was met with almost universal acclaim in both the underground and mainstream press. At least one person wasn't surprised by Rocket From the Tombs' belated success: "The songs are good songs, the performances are good performances," Cheetah Chrome stated during a recent interview. Had he given the band much thought over the past 30 years? "It was something I had always been proud of," he said, "but as I had no tapes of the band, I did forget exactly how good we had been." In the late '90s, Chrome found himself in the unlikely position of having to buy bootlegs of his former band on eBay. Listening to them was a revelation: "It hit me like a ton of bricks how important the band was to my musical history, how much it had shaped me in my formative years," he said. Following the success of The Day the Earth Met Rocket From the Tombs, Chrome and Thomas re-connected and decided to reform the band for a one-off gig opening for Pere Ubu at 2003's Thomas-curated Disastodrome Festival in Los Angeles. Chrome had kept up with Craig Bell over the years, and he was up for the reunion. With Mandansky missing in action, Thomas recruited Pere Ubu's Steve Mehlman to fill the drummer's chair. Finding a replacement for the long-dead Laughner was trickier. Fortunately, Chrome had a ringer in mind. "When we needed a guitarist to do the UCLA gig, we wracked our brains to think of who could fit," he said. "Richard's name came up pretty quick, and once it did, there was no other choice." "Richard" was Richard Lloyd, guitarist extraordinaire of NYC punk legends Television. "Cheetah Chrome e-mailed me about two years ago, and said they were having — as he put it — 'an RFTT reunion,'" Lloyd recalled during a separate interview. "When I got the e-mail, I didn't know what RFTT meant! But I think Cheetah's very talented, so I wrote back to him and said 'Yes, I'd love to do it — what's RFTT?'" Once the acronym was explained, Lloyd recalled a few summer nights in 1975, when Rocket From the Tombs opened for Television. "Those were our first out-of-town shows, in Cleveland," Lloyd said. "Peter Laughner had seen us in New York, and he was the one who talked us into going out there, and he said his band could open up for us." Laughner's band was clearly on the verge of falling apart, according to Lloyd. "At the sound check, they got in a huge fight. I don't know just how physical it got, but there was shouting and shoving. And then they broke up right after those shows, I think." Still, Lloyd remembers being impressed with Rocket From the Tombs' intense commitment to their music, and followed the subsequent work of the band's trailblazing offshoots, the Dead Boys and Pere Ubu. The 21st century version of Rocket From the Tombs that Lloyd completed turned out to be no less combustible than the original. "We were playing [The Disastodrome Festival] on Sunday, so we had Friday and Saturday available to rehearse in the afternoon," Lloyd said. "I arrived and met everybody at the theater. We were on the stage and we began to play and the band got in another big fight! Cheetah, David, and Craig all walked off. And then Steve walked off. And I just thought, 'Wow, nothing's changed!'" Chrome admits that relations among the band's founding members can sometimes be less than cozy. "We get along very well by e-mail, or on the phone. We get together in the same room and KABOOM, it gets tricky!" he said. "It's only because we all want it to be right, but it can be stressful, sorta like Rush Limbaugh and Abbie Hoffman working together on a project. The working relationships in this outfit would probably seem very strange to an outsider!" Despite this, the reformed band's first gig was a powerful experience for both the musicians and the audience. Rocket From the Tombs MK II charged through a set including "Sonic Reducer," "30 Seconds Over Tokyo," and "Final Solution" as though the past 30 years were the blink of an eye. Lloyd said the crowd went crazy, exploding into a standing ovation at the end. All involved agreed that the band was too potent a force to let fade. So Rocket From the Tombs embarked on a brief summer U.S. tour and followed it with a longer one this past winter. In between, the band assembled at Lloyd's New York studio to record what would become Rocket Redux. "People would keep bugging us after the shows, asking if there were any recordings of this band," said Lloyd, who produced and engineered the album. "So we thought we ought to get something down on tape. It's designed to be the live set done exactly in the sequence that the setlist was. It's just like a written, one-act play. You don't change the dialogue, you don't introduce a new scene. If in every place you play you're getting this great reaction, then that's the way it ought to be." Chrome is especially pleased with the hi-fidelity nature of Rocket Redux. "We wanted it to be a clearer version of the songs, where you would be able to hear the lyrics and tell the difference between guitars," he says. "Much as I love the originals, some of the guitars are so far in the red it's painful. It makes a good document, and the intensity is great, but whew! Not for the squeamish." With Rocket Redux now in stores, the band finds itself at a crossroads. Will they forge ahead and attempt to develop new material? "I think individually we all hope so," said Lloyd, who has written a new song, "Amnesia," for the band. "We're all cautious, because it's so volatile a situation. And it's all so long-distance — if it weren't for the Internet, this band wouldn't have gotten back together at all. I'm in New York, Cheetah's in Nashville, David lives in England, Craig is in Indianapolis, and Steve is in Cleveland! So it's not close quarters. There has been some talk of us playing some shows in Europe later this year, but nothing's final."

[humongousfanhologram]

David Thomas and the Pedestrians - The crickets in the flats

David Lynn Thomas (born 1953 in Miami, Florida) is an American singer, songwriter and musician.

He was one of the founding members of the short-lived proto-punkers Rocket from the Tombs (1974–1975), where he went by the name of Crocus Behemoth, and of punk group Pere Ubu (1975–present, intermittently). He has also released several solo albums. Though primarily a singer, he sometimes plays melodeon, trombone, guitar or other instruments.

[forbidden-sorcery]

In spite of its abysmal, largely totalitarian history, the various political tendencies that comprise what we call the “Left” are attempting to make a resurgence in North America — basically by trying to exploit situations like the war in Iraq and capitalist globalization as new opportunities to promote their hopelessly outdated and downright ridiculously statist programs for “change”. It would be easy enough to just ignore these socialist champions of duty and sacrifice — these would-be world-betterers who tilt at the windmills of established power and ultimately accomplish nothing — were it not for the fact that they’ve infested the anarchist movement with their authoritarian, guilt-ridden politics and are essentially waging war on the free exchange of ideas between radicals and dissidents. Cloaking themselves in “concerns” about racism, sexism and homophobia, these anarcho-leftists seem primarily interested in impeding the development of revolutionary theory and revolutionary action, by setting rules about what can and cannot be said (or even thought by those who are interested in examining the totality of the System we live under.              When they’re not trying to lure anarchists down the dead-end path of “identity politics”, these self-styled “experts in oppression” are working overtime to impose new “politically correct” moralisms and constraining codes of behavior on other people, adding new layers of repression to an already unbearably repressive and artificial situation, i.e., modern civilized “life”. In a world where virtually every aspect of our lives is governed and controlled, where the majority of our “choices” and “options” are false, manufactured ones, and where our every instinct and biological impulse is stifled by an authoritarian order, the Left proposes more (or at least, new) rules and regulations as the solution! Like the genocidal Catholic missionaries of the Columbian invasion or the grim-faced, anally-retentive Puritans of New England, these internally tormented Leftists want to universalize their own inhibitions and psychological hang-ups, by creating a new governing structure that mirrors their own fears and personal misery.

Crocus Behemoth - The Left-Handed Path of Repression (Green Anarchy magazine)