dirtyfilthysunshine - Tumblr blog

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

                                              𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒                                 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗢𝗥    𝗚𝗔𝗥𝗬     𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗦.                                    "  ᴵ  ᵗᵒˡᵈ  ʸᵒᵘ  ᵍᵘʸˢ  ᴵ  ʷᵃˢ  ˢᶤᶜᵏˑ  “                     INDIE JONESY/MR. GRAY ROLEPLAY BLOG                                     DREAMCATCHER BASED

                                       CREDIT. RULES. 

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

what if we were sitting in a field and i plucked some grass and put it on your knee. what then?

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

Bootsy Collins Spacebass and Warwick Guitars

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

Most authority figures are just some guy

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

Astronomy vignettes. Learning about our world. 1932.  

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

never forget that loud rock n roll is the most important thing in the universe

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

@spokenleaf leaf's music

In my defense your honor I had really good music on and it made me want to do something evil

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

there seemed to be a long stretch of land between them,  an entire wave of life that neither parties were privy to. 

the thing was  --  . . . . well, growing himself up the way he had, among his tia and grandmother, being a wall - flower, critter understood a great deal more than he let on.

baby blue eyes follow the sound of giggles, of hushed whispers, and finds that they’re not giggling at him - like his brain first thought.

no, they’re looking at the new guy.  

critter has seen himself in that very situation, can see the invisible chord that connects laddie buck up there and the chattering gulls that eye and look on with interest.     

he’s  --  famous?

“well,  golly gee!”  the kid looks down between his knees, unsure of what to say. he could be in the presence of absolute greatness and he didn’t even know it, he could feel the heat of embarrassment beginning to warm his squirming insides.

“listen,  guys (he says ghoys, the bronx in him ever present)  were boutta go down to the piers for bonfires n’ swimmy bevs.”

critter’s heard the same, exact, thing come out of others boys’ mouths, those more brave than he, those with less to lose, and finds that it fits just as well with a little bit of faux confidence. 

“ahm real thirsty,  y’know?”

dirtyfilthysunshine​:

mischa, the faint glance of those melting eyes & flowing hair, feels as if he were a butterfly with it’s middle stuck through with a pin; keeping him where he lay.

perhaps he shouldn’t have smoked that second joint. critter peels himself off the ground and leans back on his elbows, brows knitted together solemly.

a hand comes up.

it does little to block out the sun and it shows itself in the way critter squints and wrinkles his nose. doing so reveals big white buck teeth, a pink little tongue hiding behind them. critter swallows.

‘i-….it’s not that,’ he starts with something of an abashed expression. he still can’t see the stranger but his presence was peculiar.

the sudden absence of sound feels as if he’s sucked all of the air out of the skatepark. the boy, if he could be called that, sat up properly now.

critter sits with his legs crossed and looks around, suddenly very aware of how late in the day it is. he feels drunk on the sun, hazey and all rumpled up from being under it for so long.

‘i guess m'just used to bein’ the one doin the watchin’, catch my drift-ola?’

critter’s voice was also a little scratchy from misuse, the lack of hydration evident when he begins to lick his lips, smacking them and trying to make moisture.

'n-not in like, a weird way! i’m not, like, a pervert or anything!’

“i see…” he said plainly, neither impressed nor bored, only now conscious that from up there his body had been blocking out a greater portion of the brightly setting sun. amiably, he stayed put. 

if leaf wanted to escape the scrutinizing weight of the public gaze, his imminent rise to fame, he’d have to act fast. he’d have to act today. perhaps flee to some european country where their music had yet to reach. the silence had been reintroduced between them and it swelled and grew uncomfortably. outwardly, he appeared to be ruminating over some sort of distant thought as he smoked his cigarette, shoulders bunched up by his ears as he leant over the rail. a couple of kids nearby worked on working up the nerve to approach him but couldn’t and he pretended not to hear. finally, he cracked half a smile.

“then do you mind if i continue to watch?” 

he’s a singer, isn’t he? no, i think he plays guitar.

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

mischa, the faint glance of those melting eyes & flowing hair, feels as if he were a butterfly with it's middle stuck through with a pin; keeping him where he lay.

perhaps he shouldn't have smoked that second joint. critter peels himself off the ground and leans back on his elbows, brows knitted together solemly.

a hand comes up.

it does little to block out the sun and it shows itself in the way critter squints and wrinkles his nose. doing so reveals big white buck teeth, a pink little tongue hiding behind them. critter swallows.

'i-....it's not that,' he starts with something of an abashed expression. he still can't see the stranger but his presence was peculiar.

the sudden absence of sound feels as if he's sucked all of the air out of the skatepark. the boy, if he could be called that, sat up properly now.

critter sits with his legs crossed and looks around, suddenly very aware of how late in the day it is. he feels drunk on the sun, hazey and all rumpled up from being under it for so long.

'i guess m'just used to bein' the one doin the watchin', catch my drift-ola?'

critter's voice was also a little scratchy from misuse, the lack of hydration evident when he begins to lick his lips, smacking them and trying to make moisture.

'n-not in like, a weird way! i'm not, like, a pervert or anything!'

dirtyfilthysunshine​:

nights like these, too warm & sauna-like, were supposed to be the best days of his life. critter didn’t feel like he was anywhere, physically or metaphysically. often it felt like his life was a film, but the conductor has fallen asleep and he doesn’t know that the end of the reel has come and past and the viewers suddenly blink back to the beginning of the film, disgruntled to find themselves rewatching the same bits from only minutes before.

it would be disorienting, critter thinks, to find oneself suddenly caught in the same loop of a single moment. this is one of those times. he’s been sprawled out in the deepest crevice of the steepest bowl for the better part of an hour, watching the skaters as they take the drop and fly around critters long body.

eyes are closed but a permanent sneer is on his face, very much trying to squint out the LA sun.

the hair along his arms suddenly stands on end, the conductor has suddenly realized the viewers are disgruntled.

it’s drippingly hot and critter is in jeans and a long sleeve shirt with some acidic band on the front, head propped up with his own board.

‘it’s rude to stare,’ he says with a grin, doesn’t even need to open his peepers to know that an intruder has found his way into critter’s kingdom.

he feels like - well, like a strip of beef jerky. his face feels like leather, lips are slightly cracked and his tongue is a dry sponge between his teeth.

‘i bet i’d make a bitchin’ album cover though, huh?’ critter peeks with one eye. but after baking in the sun for the better part of all freakin’ day, his eyes are hard to open. when they do manage to open, the stranger is just a shape against the sun.

who called us into this ancient, insane theatre where we perform the propagation of our lust and what did this kid know about album covers, he half-wondered. 

his brain had been simmering on the horizon, elsewhere yet vaguely present, seeping into the space of blank verse with a moderately blank verse. it was late by the time he’d realised he was the one being spoken at or to. but he did hear what was said, and what he said back he said back nonchalantly. he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth to say it:

“you don’t want people to see you do this stuff?”

tipped off the ash with the end of his thumb, watched where it fell, and looked back to the pit for an answer.

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

traumarx‌:

If you think, “it could have been worse,” please remember that you didn’t deserve to be hurt at all. You didn’t deserve to be abused, even if it “could have been worse.”

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

nights like these, too warm & sauna-like, were supposed to be the best days of his life. critter didn't feel like he was anywhere, physically or metaphysically. often it felt like his life was a film, but the conductor has fallen asleep and he doesn't know that the end of the reel has come and past and the viewers suddenly blink back to the beginning of the film, disgruntled to find themselves rewatching the same bits from only minutes before.

it would be disorienting, critter thinks, to find oneself suddenly caught in the same loop of a single moment. this is one of those times. he's been sprawled out in the deepest crevice of the steepest bowl for the better part of an hour, watching the skaters as they take the drop and fly around critters long body.

eyes are closed but a permanent sneer is on his face, very much trying to squint out the LA sun.

the hair along his arms suddenly stands on end, the conductor has suddenly realized the viewers are disgruntled.

it's drippingly hot and critter is in jeans and a long sleeve shirt with some acidic band on the front, head propped up with his own board.

'it's rude to stare,' he says with a grin, doesn't even need to open his peepers to know that an intruder has found his way into critter's kingdom.

he feels like - well, like a strip of beef jerky. his face feels like leather, lips are slightly cracked and his tongue is a dry sponge between his teeth.

'i bet i'd make a bitchin' album cover though, huh?' critter peeks with one eye. but after baking in the sun for the better part of all freakin' day, his eyes are hard to open. when they do manage to open, the stranger is just a shape against the sun.

the rest of the band stayed behind in the sand, played with chord progressions and murmured melodies-in-the-making. their wives and girlfriends hung around and wrote stuff down and new friends were happy to be there for their newly-famed company and free grass. and their singer couldn’t find his words.  i’m gonna go walk off this hangover.

and so was born the wanderer. the man without motive. the ‘hippie’.  they wouldn’t wait up for him. he kissed his girlfriend’s shoulder.  do you want me to come with you? he shook his head. took off like he was used to and they all were, where he crawled along the sunset-coloured beach boulevard with no shirt and no shoes, hand-rolled cigarette in hand and his floating feet found him where white noise was laughter, wheels dipping down sharp inclines and skin cutting close across concrete. the steel rail that introduced the perimeter of the park, hot from a dayful of sun, ceased to forgive his bare forearms as he thoughtlessly, lost-in-thought-fully leaned right over it. he winced into his cigarette inhale but didn’t move. our wordless poet only watched. 

@dirtyfilthysunshine

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

  His   green   eyes   had   settled   on   Critter   putting   on   his   wool   coat   for   him   and   then   buttoning   him   up   .   His   stern   gaze   was   still   present   ,   as   he   simply   blinked   a   few   times   .   “   This   guitar   means   more   to   me   than   anything   .   “   He   murmured   out   the   words   ,   and   then   his   gaze   shifted   to   the   clock   .   “   Press   ?   You   think   I   give   a   shite   about   the   press   right   now   ?   “   The   elder   stopped   to   think   about   this   for   a   second   ,   before   he   picked   up   the   nearby   phone   and   rang   his   driver   telling   him   to   come   around   the   back   .   The   blond   did   have   a   point   to   his   words   ,   even   through   all   of   his   deep   seeded   anger   he   could   see   that   .   

Hanging   up   the   phone   and   then   taking   a   moment   like   Critter   had   said   to   just   collect   himself   once   more   .   He   wasn’t   going   to   let   Robert   anger   him   so   much   ,   not   today   .   A   few   deep   breaths   in   through   his   nose   and   out   of   his   mouth   and   he   was   set   .   “   We   should   go   eat   ,   I   will   buy   .   “   He’d   suggested   to   him   .   “   I   want   something   smothered   in   butter   .   “   He   couldn’t   even   remember   the   last   time   he’d   had   a   decent   meal   .   It   was   probably   around   a   month   ago   when   he   visited   his   mother   .   She   always   made   the   comfort   food   he   loved   to   enjoy   .  

critter  was  adamant  that  he  had  not  touched  the  guitar   ,            but  it  was  never  not  hazy  when  he  was  around  jimmy.          more  often  than  not  he  felt  doped  up  and  out  of  it  ,          his  hair  always  two  days  past  expiration  date  and  tangled .                   it  would  be  stupid  ,      he’d  be  off  his  rocker  to  say  anything  that  could  upset  him  further   .                 ❛      well  you  should  care ,   we’ve  been  in  this  studio  for  nine  hours  ,      man   .             i  dunno  ‘bout  you  but      –   ❜       as  if  a  puppy  he  followed  behind  jimmy  and  tugged  on  his  sleeve  . 

he  didn’t  want  to  pester  him,    only    .   .      get  his  mind  off  the  fender  .          when  jimmy  looked  at  him,   stoically,   sharply,   critter  comes  up  close  and  does  a  little  dance  .                          

❛       well  shit ,        dude  !       that’s  all  you  had  to  say  !  ❜        a  hand  comes  to  take  the  older’s  ,      pulling  him  towards  the  door  .            

❛         by  the  way   ,          y’got  coke  on  your  nose  .   ❜

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

*cuts up strawberries and shares them with you

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

A   grim   and   sullen   growl   of   disapproval   seeped   through   his   lips   ,   as   he   felt   his   dark   eyebrows   scrunch   and   furrow   .   “   I   don’t   give   a   fuck   where   he   is   at   .   If   you   are   covering   for   that   twat   I   would   very   much   like   to   know   .   “   Stating   in   a   huff   ,   before   he   bent   his   elbows   out   and   placed   his   hands   down   onto   his   hips   .   An   irritated   sigh   and   a   shake   of   his   head   .   “   I’ve   had   it   with   his   shite   you   know   .   He’s   always   touching   MY   things   .   My   guitars   ,   my   collectibles   ,   my   conquests   .   Who   the   fuck   does   he   think   he   is   hmm   ?!!   “   His   words   were   snapped   and   angry   ,   not   necessarily   at   the   poor   innocent   teen   .   Just   in   general   he   was   venting   .   “   Everyone   loves   Robert   .   What   a   joke   .   “   Another   shake   of   his   head   ,   before   he   grabbed   his   guitar   and   placed   it   gently   back   into   the   case   before   closing   it   .   “   If   he   thinks   I   am   going   to   wait   around   for   him   to   be   LATE   again   .   Oh   ,   he’s   sadly   mistaken   .   Come   on   gopher   .   Let’s   go   .   “   He   was   still   too   angered   .   Reaching   for   his   sweater   vest   and   putting   it   back   on   ,   buttoning   it   .   Then   reaching   to   grab   the   guitar   case   .  

more  yelling.       his  eyes  scan  the  room  before  he  takes  a  step  forward,       hands  out  and  eyes  drooped slightly,    as  if  sleepy           ❛      hey  ,    it’s  okay    —-          we  can  go.       but  you  gotta  take  a  breather,     okay   ?              i’m  not  covering  for  him       –    ❜       he  tried  to,    didn’t  he?   tried  to  cover  for  him  and  jimmy  had  read  him  like  a  damn  book !  

critter  reaches  forward  and  grabs  at  jimmy’s  wool  coat ,      holds  him  in  place  and  begins  to  button  his  coat  up  for  him.            

❛       i’m    sorry   your   guitar   is   broken  ,       mr  .   page  .       i’d  find  you  a  new  one  but  somethin’  tells  me  you’d  think  it  was  garbage  or  somethin’.  ❜         from  this  angle  jimmy  looked  softer  ,        pink  in  the  cheeks  and  the  mouth.             critter  buttons  him  up  and  pats  his  shoulder.             

❛          there’s  press  outside    .            we  should  go  out  the  back.       ❜

[dirtyfilthysunshine]

Jimmy   had   been   getting   himself   ready   in   the   studio   to   do   some   writing   ,   though   when   he   pulled   his   guitar   out   it   seemed   to   have   a   tiny   vein   like   scratch   in   the   body   .   The   guitarist   was   sure   he   was   careful   ,   he’d   always   been   very   meticulous   of   his   most   prized   possession   .   Then   it   struck   him   .   “   Gopher   !   Get   your   ass   over   here   !   “   He   demanded   on   the   younger   as   he   snapped   at   him   abruptly   .   “   Did   you   touch   my   guitar   ?   Did   Robert   ?!   “  

critter  did  not  grow  up  in  a  conventional  family   ,          this  yelling  did  nothing  but  stir  up  a  curiosity  big  enough  for  him  &  the  cat  .              he  peeks  his  head  through  the  door,     lip  sucked  into  his  mouth  as  if a  substitute  for  a  thumb.            ❛       HEY  BOSS    ----          uh      –     ❜           being  met  with  a  stone - faced  jimmy  stops  him  in  his  tracks  ,        grin  gone   .                he  hadn’t  touched  the  guitar.  but  if  he  did  cover  for  robert  then  he’d  get  in  with  him,   too,   right  ?           but  he  didn’t  want  jimmy  to  be  mad  at  him.               critter  wanted  things  to  be  cool !   

❛       he  ---   he  said  he’d  be  late   !            uuh  ,         uh  ,        i  ----   i  didn’t  touch  it !       ❜

[dirtyfilthysunshine]