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ghostmacandcheese · 2 years

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*quick authors note before we begin*

(Hello! I hope you like this fanfic. It’s going to be six chapters, that way i can put a good amount of detail into the story. It isn’t a Y/N reader, as the main character does have a name, and if it seems strange or annoying the way the conversations flow or the way things are described, sorry, thats just how i think and react to things. While most of the stuff in this is false, obviously, there will be a note at the end of each chapter letting you guys know what was actually real from personal experiences! Hope you all enjoy, i know i had a lot of fun writing this! Also, there’s parts where it seems like the character is talking to herself, and thats because she is, and i had it written in italics originally to differentiate, but tumblr didn’t like that so now you have to figure it out yourself, sorry.)

Summery: you meet Steven in the museum gift shop and become fast friends, and maybe something even more!

Pairing: just Steven x female reader

Warnings: some swearing, being the family disappointment, sleep disorders

Genre: fluff, meet-cute, friends to lovers

Heaven help the fools chapter 1

Chapter 1: strange strangers

I walked up to the gift shop counter of the British Museum, clutching a metal puzzle pyramid, a book on the curse of King Tut, and a plush Taweret, the hippo goddess. The man behind the register looks on the verge of passing out, his eyes barely open, lips slightly parted, curly hair messily resting on his forehead. As I stand there, unsure of what to do now that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know I'm even standing there, I look at him more closely. He’s got lovely cheekbones and a great facial structure. I'm tempted to pull out my phone to take a reference photo. He’d make a great portrait. Those eyelashes and brows are stunning.

I find myself staring at him, my critical artist's eye going into a frenzy at this absolutely beautiful man standing before me.It takes a second to realize he’s now fully conscious and staring back at me, a quiet curiosity playing in his eyes. Wow, his eyes. They’re so soft. They have such warmth in them like they’re staring into me. Wait… staring-h-he’s awake!! Shit! He just saw me staring at him! Quick, think!

“H-hi! I…um, I didn’t mean to stare, I just… wasn’t sure if you were awake?” God, even I could tell what a terrible lie that was. I really need to stop staring at beautiful people.

“Oh, it's ok. I just feel bad I didn’t know you were there. I've been noddin off all day, haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in the last month, don't know why.” He chuckled to himself, cheeks slightly pink. Hmmm. He gets embarrassed easily. Adorable.

I didn’t really know what to say, so I just stood there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for him to ring up my items so I could leave and then promptly die from embarrassment. It took me a minute to realize why he was still staring at me until I looked down and saw I had all my stuff still in my arms. Why? Why today of all days do I decide to act like a complete fool? And why is it always in front of men that are totally my type? Can I, for just once, get it together, please? I feel my cheeks turn bright red, and I get even more embarrassed, turning an even brighter red.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to forget to put my things up, I just forgot I was holding them, heh.” You figured he wouldn’t believe you, and just nod along like most people, because how could someone forget they were holding something they just went to pay for? I mean-

“No, it's alright, the other day I had a terrible nightmare and jumped out of bed, forgetting I had my leg restraint on and ended up falling right on my face. My nose was purple for days.” He chuckled to himself again, and then we both sat there in silence for a minute or two, letting that sentence just rest. Then he started turning bright red.

“I-i mean- heh, I don't- ehhh” he looked around frantically, looking for something, anything, to break the awkward silence left by that last statement.

“Hey, don't even think of it. I tell one of my coworkers on a regular basis how easy it would be to kill her and everyone thinks I’m a psychopath when it's really just my way of saying that I care about her, so I guess we're both weird.” I look up and smile at him, watching some of the worry leave his eyes and fill with a slight bit of humor, and a little concern.

“Besides,” I chuckle, picking at one of my nails, “it's not like I have anyone to tell your deep, dark secret to, I have no friends.” He picks up the book, hippo, and pyramid puzzle and places them in the bag, telling me my total.

“Well, I don't have any friends either, so I guess your murderous ways are safe with me as well.” He looks up at me with a small smile, and I can see a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. God, he is beautiful. I smile as I take my bag, telling him to leave the receipt. I turn to walk out, but he catches me before I take another step.

‘Wait, wait... I don't know your name!” he looks worried, like if I walk through the door, he'll never see me again. I smile at the ground, blushing slightly.

“Oh, my name's Ophelia. Ophelia Jane. a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I-I’m steven. With a V. grant. S-steven grant.” he coughs and shuffles his feet, embarrassed.

“Well, Steven with a V, I'll see you around, ya?” I give a small wave.

“Y-yeah, I'll be seeing you I guess.” he laughs nervously and waves back at me one last time before I leave, ready to head home for the day.

I sit in the back row of the bus, only half paying attention to the stops that are made along the way. With my traveling playlist blasting in my ears, I allow my mind to wander, absentmindedly humming along to the songs playing.

As I watch the city flash by through the window, one song fades out and is replaced by the next, Snaggletooth by Vance Joy.

ah, I love this song. My mind travels through all that happened today and stops to rest on Steven. Sweet steven. I don't think I've ever met another person that I've talked to so easily. I could sit and listen to him talk forever. He's got such a gentle voice, and it's so relaxing. And his lips, he's got such a beautiful cupid's bow and great cheekbones. And that five o’clock shadow and curly, unkempt hair. It looks soft, I would love to play with it. God, I bet he smells amazing, like incense and warm sunlight and old books and coffee. Imagine hugging him? Imagine falling asleep next to him? Ooooh, imagine-SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT THIS IS OUR STOP GET OFF QUICK NOW! I quickly scramble my stuff together, muttering to myself as I get off at my stop. “Wow, pervert, you really almost just missed your stop over a man you met ONCE IN A GIFT SHOP! This isn't a freaking fanfic, get it together!” I ran across the street to my building, just missing the rain that was about to fall.

Terry, the building guy, just looked up at me as I walked in, and I hopped in the lift, getting off at the 3rd floor.

Turning to the first door on the right, I pull out my key and swing open the door to survey the kingdom that is my flat.

I flip on the light and put my bags down on my already full table in the kitchen. A crappy place to live, but it's better than nothing. I get a small cooktop, an even smaller fridge, and my incredibly cluttered table in the far right, closest to the door, and in the left corner was my bathroom, with my bed in the back, desk by the window in the back right corner, and small tv and bean bag chairs in the somewhat center of the room. “Home sweet home,” I mutter as I kick off my flats, walking over to the fish tank on my desk.

“Alright, roll call guys, I need to make sure none of you died while I was gone. Let's see here… Morticia, Sally, Lydia, my gothic girls, you’re here, Jester and Harlequin, there you are, Buttercup, got you, Sunshine, still swimming backward like a little freak, hello, and lastly, my beautiful snail queen, pearl. How are all of you? Here,” I get them a sprinkle of food. “You get your dinner, now I get to shower and grab mine.” I go to my wardrobe and grab my favorite leggings and oversized shirt, and take a steaming hot shower, ready to crash from the long day I had.

*end authors not*

And thats the end of chapter one! I hope you guys liked it, i sure had fun writing it! As promised, here are things that are real about me that i put into this story because i can.

1) those fish are my fish, those are all they’re names. They’re now tumblr famous.

2) all the music mentioned, while not much, are songs that I listen to and LOVE.

3) i do indeed threaten my coworker with her own demise, but i do it out of love, and she knows it, so its ok.

4) i do actually talk to myself like this. I find it highly amusing, so i decided to put it in. I don’t care if anyone else finds it funny or not.

5) the only reason i think steven would smell like incense is because I LOVE the smell of incense.

6) i stare at people that i think are pretty because they have aesthetically pleasing faces and want to draw them. I can’t help it.

7) i have actually had stuff in my hands and forgot it was there. I am dory in human form.

#moon knight #steven grant #fanfic #x reader #steven grant x reader #meet cute #mcu #moon knight fanfiction #marvel #my fanfiction #x female reader #fluff #mcu fluff #mcu x reader #read more

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51kas81 · 4 years

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Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit

My parents were desperate for me to like classical music, but I just couldn’t buy into the length of the pieces. Then they played me Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber and it was so beautiful, I cried. My school music teacher, Mr Vassal, asked for our favourite composers; I said Samuel Barber and he laughed at me. But eventually everyone caught up.

There was a Beatles versus Stones vibe at school. I was on the Beatles side. The first single I bought was Wild Thing by the Troggs and the first album was Bookends by Simon and Garfunkel. I loved Father and Son by Cat Stevens, because it made me think of me and my dad. My tastes weren’t shocking; they just needed to open up. Then, when I was 17, I went to hospital to have my tonsils out and my brother bought me some records and this mobile turntable in a suitcase.

Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus by Spirit had the most amazing way of manipulating stereo. I was just blown away. I have to thank my brother; he turned me on to Joni Mitchell, Andy Pratt and Little Feat and opened up my boundaries.

Little Brother, Little Sister

My mother, Helen Shingler, was famous during my teens for playing Madame Maigret in a BBC series based on the Georges Simenon stories. My father, Seafield Head, was a producer and director at Verity Films, the documentary film company. Every year, a family friend’s mum would hire this huge barn and put on a play. I had a bit part in The Jackdaw of Rheims. The next year, I got to be the Emperor in The Emperor’s New Clothes. As I walked through the audience, all heads turned towards me and I remember thinking: “This is what I want to do for a living.”

I applied to the National Youth Theatre and the Central School of Speech and Drama, but I didn’t get in, so my father hired me as a runner and assistant editor. Working in the cutting rooms was fascinating. Then I enrolled at The Young Stagers at the Thorndike theatre in Leatherhead, run by this lovely woman called Joan MacAlpine. She directed me in an extraordinary piece called Little Brother, Little Sister, which got me into the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. My teacher said: “If anybody can make me cry, I’ll take them to the theatre.” I did my piece again and made her cry.

The Rocky Horror Show

I remember being taken to The Rocky Horror Show on Kings Road when I was at drama school in my late teens. Tim Curry was playing Dr Frank-N-Furter – the role that he repeated in the film. Watching The Rocky Horror Show ignited something in my core. I knew I had acting in my blood because of my mother. Now I couldn’t wait to finish drama school and try to make it in the real world.

I finally got to play Dr Frank-N-Furter when The Rocky Horror Show came to the Piccadilly theatre in 1990. The exciting thing about acting is that you shouldn’t know what’s coming out of the actor’s mouth next – and I didn’t hold back. I just let whatever was going on inside of me come out in the character. That was life-changing for me as an actor. It made me realise that there’s nowhere that you can’t go.

Friends would come to see me perform and later say that they hardly recognised me, I was so out of character. As an actor, that’s a huge compliment.

Judi Dench

Judi Dench and Maurice Denham in 1966’s Talking to a Stranger. Photograph: Everett Collection/Alamy

One of Judi Dench’s early roles was this show on BBC Two called Talking to a Stranger, with Michael Bryant, Maurice Denham and Margery Mason. It’s about this family who are at odds with each other. Each of the four parts focuses on one family member’s view of what is going on around them. I thought it was beautiful, amazing and absolutely genius and I just fell in love with Judi. I thought that she was the most amazing actress – and still do. Judi taught me that acting can be at its best when it is very subtly underplayed. The core of believing an actor is buying into the fact that they’re not acting.

I got to play the rather unpleasant suitor of one of her on-screen daughters in Love in a Cold Climate on the BBC in the early 00s. I’m sure I must have said to Judi: ‘I think you’re so wonderful.’ Actors need appreciation and recognition. I suppose for me that will always be for Buffy, because Buffy was so different and so pivotal for its time. The episode called The Body, where Buffy’s mum dies, is the most extraordinary piece of writing and misdirection. I’m very grateful to have done so many evocative things that so many people have latched on to.

Paul Newman

Robert Redford and Paul Newman in 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Photograph: Photos 12/Alamy

I love Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Each act is so brilliantly put together; it’s a stunning piece of writing. Both Robert Redford and Paul Newman are phenomenal, but Newman especially I’ve always loved, because he’s so believable that he instantly transports you into the story. I also loved Henry Fonda in Once Upon a Time in the West, in which he plays the baddie, which is unusual.

I often get cast as baddies. I don’t know why. I play Rupert Mannion on [the Apple TV+ sitcom] Ted Lasso. He’s a particularly unpleasant character and a complete narcissist, but you know where he’s coming from. To make somebody believable, you have to see their point of view. You don’t need to like them, but you have to be on board with what’s driving them.

I’m also in an episode of the new series of Back with David Mitchell and Robert Webb. I get to play a totally self-absorbed character called Charismatic Mike, who was great fun to play. It’s always been my theory that actors are hugely insecure, which is why we love dressing up and being someone else, because we don’t have to be in our own heads and bodies. Then we can express things that we may feel deep down and blame it on the character.

Lord of the Flies

At drama school, I really liked the people on the stage-managing course who were studying things like costume, lighting and prop-making. People used to say: you have to behave like a star to be thought of as a star. So, traditionally, a lot of actors take stage managers for granted.

I get very cross with actors who just throw their clothes on the floor. I said to one actor recently: “Costume are here before you, setting up your clothes, and they’re here after you’ve gone. Pick up your clothes, put them on a hanger in your cupboard. It’s not a big deal.” Teamwork is important.

At school, one of the books that blew me away was Lord of the Flies. It’s also about teamwork and not necessarily someone standing in front becoming the leader. In your teens, the world is yours to do what you want with. As you grow up, you realise you’re just part of something much bigger. Now more than ever, life should be about teamwork and for the cause of the greater good.

School’s Out Forever is available on digital from 15 February and DVD and Blu-ray from 12 April

#anthony stewart head #anthony head #headnews21 #interview #school’s out forever

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littlequeenies · 4 years

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BEBE BUELL: MUSING ON MUSES AND OTHER FANS

📷BEBE BUELLJUNE 17, 2020

Before embarking on a musical career of her own, Bebe Buell was a much in-demand model but was most often seen as the second fiddle to the famous rock musicians she was dating. She, however, saw herself as the Muse to these musicians, inspiring and sharing ideas with them. Inevitably, the term “groupie” would arise. As she says, “I’m not opposed to ‘groupies,’ per se. I just don’t like being called a name or being tagged like a sheep to slaughter’. Bebe elaborates on this idea for PKM.

I remember the first time I saw a photograph of Oscar Wilde. I was five and it was Easter. We were at the Virginia Beach home of my mother’s friends, Poppy and Tilly, who were hosting a Sunday get together. We were dressed in our pastels and frills and the candy and food was flowing. It was an adult affair and, being the only child there, I wandered off to explore while the grown-ups enjoyed their martinis and snacks. I found myself in a living room study area and on the table was a big book filled with photos of poets, painters, sculptors and scholars. I was immediately drawn to an image of Oscar draped on a chair like a velvet throw! It stuck with me and when I got older I looked him up in the school library. At the age of twelve I read The Picture Of Dorian Gray, but my main interest was in Oscar Wilde, the man and his story. I felt an instant connection, just as I have with all the great inspirations in my life. In 1978, when I was living between NYC, Maine and LA, before finishing the year in London, I never missed one episode of Masterpiece Theatre and their 13 episodes of Lillie about the life of Lillie Langtry, played brilliantly by Francesca Annis. To my delight, it explored in great depth the relationship/friendship between Oscar and Lillie, and I became obsessed with knowing everything and anything I could about their dynamic. I was intrigued, too, by the descriptions of Mrs. Langtry in the press at that time in England and the U.S. She was often called a ��Professional Beauty” or “The Jersey Lily” because she was born on Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands off the coast of Normandy. She was also one of the most featured women in advertising; her face was everywhere. She was the image for Pears Soap and the most respected painters of the day stood in line just to have a sitting with her. In 1877, she met Edward, Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII, and became his first publicly acknowledged mistress.

One of my favorite quotes was attributed to her from her conversations with Wilde: “They saw me, those reckless seekers of beauty, and in a night I was famous.” This reminded me of the back room at Max’s Kansas City, the temple of cool when I arrived in New York during the era of everything! It was this platonic duo that introduced me to the role of the “Muse”—that is the Artist and the Muse. Throughout history and especially in the arts, there seems to always be a driving force that brings the flora. In the series Lillie, they emphasized how Oscar would repeat Lillie’s quips and observations in his writing. Their banter with one another fascinated me and I often envisioned myself as a “Patron of The Arts”, in a sense, as I’ve always promoted and sang the praises of those whose work I liked. I felt an affinity with that spirit—the gift of inspiring and sharing special ideas with an artist I admired. It wasn’t just music. I adored musing with photographers, writers, film directors and designers, too. Creative energies have always fed my soul. The first time I referenced the term “muse” was in a 1981 interview I did with the Emmy-winning writer Stephen Demorest for the edgy publication Oui. Its sister magazine in France was called Lui. Playboy had taken over ownership of Oui so it was a glossy, classy, European-style men’s delight, targeting a younger demographic. When Stephen approached me about the piece, he showed me a couple other interviews with “It Girls” that had been published.

One was with Patti D’Arbanville, the inspiration for some of Cat Stevens’ biggest hits. He even used her last name in one of the songs, “Lady D’Arbanville”. I knew Patti from the early 70s and, in fact, it was she who introduced me to Jimmy Page in 1973 on a night out dancing with her in NYC. It was a quick meeting, as I was eager to get home to my boyfriend at the time, Todd Rundgren. A year later, I would run into Mr. Page again and the rest is the stuff of rock tales.

I adored Patti so knowing that both she and Jerry Hall had done this particular interview sealed the deal. Like Patti Boyd, Jane Asher, Linda Eastman, Maureen Van Zandt, Sara Dylan, to name a few, the musical muse is the most often of the muses referenced. I recall how so many people wanted to know my viewpoints and opinions about the word “muse” and why I preferred it to the term “groupie”.

Even in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous, his beloved character Penny Lane’s first words on screen are, “We are not groupies. We inspire the music- we are bandaids!”. The film was Cameron’s love letter to women and how even at that time a stigma was attached to calling a woman a groupie; it was not necessarily a compliment. It was almost like a dismissive jab, on par with “she’s such a slut” or “whore”. Another scene in Almost Famous has all of the members of the fictitious band Stillwater squeezed onto a small plane that, they thought, was about to crash. Secrets were spilled and fingers were pointed. In one of the most moving moments, the William character defends Penny when she is described as “that groupie” by one of the band members. William nails it when he points out who and “what” she really is- a bright light and cherished fan. Someone who loved them all and for all the right reasons.

I feel that women have been unfairly branded and labeled without cause. I’ve often said that I’m not opposed to “groupies,” per se. I just don’t like being called a name or being tagged like a sheep to slaughter. Summing me up for the life I’ve lived, seen through someone else’s eyes or, worse, exaggerating the truth. I didn’t want those I’ve truly loved or the relationships I’ve had to be considered less sincere because of the visibility of my partner.

Certainly loving music or dating musicians is not derogatory. Isn’t it logical, then, that birds of a feather flock together? Like-minded tribes mate or unite because of chemistry? Rock boys and models have been drawn to each other since forever! In the Netflix series Hollywood, you find that sex and sexual favors were the core of the industry. Several of the movie stars everyone loved on screen had started out as rent boys or nude models to make ends meet. Who decides why someone can give a blow job to the “right” person and get a starring role in a movie and another blow job by an aspiring talent gets tossed into the trash can of regret.

Why, after having four children with Mick Jagger, a successful modeling career and now being Mrs. Rupert Murdoch, would anyone refer to Jerry Hall as a groupie? Or gold digger, another favorite term used to describe women who marry well. Or Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg or Winona Ryder, for heaven’s sake? These are the questions I’ve always had and one of the main reason why I have rejected the term groupie in the press. It’s not a personal attack on those who identify with the moniker. It’s my own rebellion against being labeled and frowned on for the relationships I’ve had.

I’ve taken this stand for a long time, even though it’s also caused some judgement and negativity towards me from other women. It’s almost as if they think I see myself as better than them. Or that I’m not being honest when I don’t just call myself a full-on groupie, and own it. My closest friends tell me it’s just jealousy but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful to have tales and lies circulated about you by people you barely know or those who don’t know me at all. Or to have relationships that lasted for years being reduced to a laundry list of “conquests.”

This is nothing new, of course. Catherine The Great‘s enemies within the Emperor’s Court turned on her and started rumors that she was a sex fiend who had intercourse with horses. That stuck with her throughout her life and even in the museums of Russia, the tale has echoed although it’s completely untrue. Cleopatra and Anne Boleyn were also targeted. Ruining reputations was the way people got their revenge in days of yore. Or in some cases, the reason why some lost their heads to the guillotine. Why is it that women who have power or beauty have been subjected to crazy accusations of sexual voracity or deviance? Eve takes the blame for the banishment from Eden and although she was supposedly created from Adam’s rib, she is seen as a temptress and Adam as her victim.

I believe every woman should identify by how she feels comfortable and for the work she does. I personally prefer to be known for what I do, my accomplishments, my career. However, dating a rock star or an actor should not merit a nasty quip or name calling fest. It becomes unbalanced when just because someone gets famous as, say, a model or an actress and then dates a rock star, that she should get called anything other than what she does to earn a living. I’m not sure “groupie” falls under the umbrella of job occupation. I’d file it under pastime, hobby, passion, or fetish.

The origins of the groupie started with nothing more than a desire to be close to the band—the guys who made the music. Or in some cases, the women. The term came into use in the mid-1960s as slang for women who liked to hang out with musicians. It’s fair to say that not all “groupies” are the same. There are many tiers and pecking orders when narrowing it down. Certainly not every girl who dreams of being with a rock star will waltz backstage and demand sex or give oral gratification. That’s the image I despise and wish would not tarnish the entire viewpoint to the outside world. Some of the girls on the scene want to take the word “groupie” back, to personify what it meant in the ‘60s and early ‘70s. It became something entirely different when the ‘80s rolled around. Bands born out of the LA scene liked a different kind of arm candy than the Rolling Stones or the Beatles. They preferred exotic dancers and porn stars, the girls du jour of the time. Just as music changes with each era, so do the kinds of women who pursue the bands. But, more importantly, what kind of women the bands seek out. One man’s status is another man’s yen.

And then there are those who look at being a groupie as a form of prostitution. I’ve never understood that one because most girls who live that lifestyle don’t charge money to be with their favorite rock god or even their crew. It’s a thrill to be with the band, but it seems the glamor that was once attached to that goal has changed. For me, it was a thrill to fight to say “I’m IN the band”… or even “I AM the band!”

When I was living with Todd, he produced one of the first all-female bands, Fanny. They were so great! June Millington could shred! I felt bewildered when I would hear snide remarks wondering if Todd was sleeping with one of them. I thought to myself that would have never been said or thought if they weren’t women.

The bottom line is preference. We all have a choice. And we all can be whatever we want. We can wear many hats. I see myself as a mother, wife, musician, singer, songwriter, writer, mentor, animal lover… many different things. What I do in my spare time is how I make my soul happy. Who I date is based on connections, fate and karma. We end up with who we’re meant to be with and the experiences we have are all meant to be. I’ve been with my husband Jim for twenty years now. Our 18th wedding anniversary is coming in August 2020. So, I’m writing this piece from the perspective of a wife, mother, working musician, writer and mentor. Not just a girl who had lots of suitors in her youth. Every single little thing is part of the journey.

The first time I saw a photo in Rolling Stone of what they called a “groupie”, I was 15 years old and in the 10th grade. It was 1969, and neither the image nor the word was at all something ugly to me. It just seemed exciting and cool. The girls were so outrageously dressed, and it reflected an almost innocent charm. I didn’t aspire to be a groupie but they seemed like they were the ones who made the guys in the band cool. They helped dress them, created make-up looks and spread the word all over town about how good they were. It didn’t seem to be so much about sex and backstage antics. Maybe I was too young to fully understand everything, especially from the pages of a magazine.

On my first trip to LA with Todd in 1973, when I finally did meet some real girls who liked to be called groupies, it still didn’t seem derogatory. I started to see how it was all just tossed together in some people’s minds. It’s a complex dance between an artist and his muse. None of it is something so vulgar or tainted as being only about sexual conquest. Maybe to some, it’s about that. But for me it was a series of fated encounters that have lasted throughout my life.

Some people see a groupie as a girl who will do anything, including have sex with a roadie, to get to the band. There is that element to the rock n’ roll lifestyle. But it’s not the entire package. Others see groupies as a vibe, the girls who are there when the band makes it, the girls that helped them make it, the on-the-road bestie, or the girls who get the bands drugs and food. Or even give them the clothes off their backs if the band is short a cool stage look. I often joke that that’s how wearing your lingerie out became a signature rock girl look- the band had taken her clothes to wear onstage!

I recall reading where Pamela Des Barres said she was still a virgin when she first discovered her teenage heart being drawn to rock boys. It felt sexual to her and it was also just youthful and sweet. Not a salacious sexual quest. More a desire to be near the music and the men who made it. That’s perhaps what one would define as a “classic groupie”. Or, in some circles, “fan” is the preferred analogy. I can relate to that myself as I knew when I was ten years old, I would hang out with Mick Jagger one day. I knew those were my people… my kind.

Pamela has made a career out of her life as a proud groupie. But certainly she has a right to claim the term because she helped invent it! She now calls it her “groupie heart” and that is something anyone who’s ever had a crush on someone or loved someone’s music so much that it altered your DNA can relate to. Hasn’t everyone felt that way? Every guy or gal who picks up a guitar or slings a mic stand had to have been dazzled by their inspiration or felt a need to pursue that for their own futures. So, my point is this- none of it is negative nor should one word hold so much power that when it’s flung at a woman, she’ll feel shamed or scorned.

When I started to get a bit of fame, the media seemed to want to call me anything but “groupie”. It was “Friend Of The Stars”, “Queen Of The Rock Chicks”, ��Leggy Model”, “The Mother Of All Rock Chicks”, “It Girl”… so when the internet entered our lives, I began to see just how judgmental and downright mean people were about the women who hung out with the bands. It started to become something so dirty and taboo that I wanted no part of that term. It’s a thin line, a hard one to walk. Personally, I feel loving music and being attracted to musicians is as natural as doctors and nurses getting along. Humans are drawn to their soul tribe. Music, musicians and all art forms attract me. I’m the moth to that flame.

As an entertainer myself, it always hurt me when what I actually do for my job was ignored or not taken seriously because of the famous names I’ve been attached to. It’s so one-sided to only put that burden on women. It has been the norm for men to be patted on the back and admired for their taste in women and especially if they were able to appeal to many and have tons of sexual experiences. Even in the animal kingdom, the male peacock has the massive plume bloom to attract as many lovers as he can. A male lion can rule the pride with his sexual domination. A male celebrity only becomes more famous if he’s got a beautiful model or actress on his arm. Whereas a woman who’s dance card is busy or even full is often ridiculed or bashed. Branded with the scarlet letter of infamy.

It started to get under my skin when I saw myself defined only by who I’d dated or had close friendships with. It’s the luck of the draw. Some women who are in the public eye can date and marry a celeb several times and be embraced for it. They use it to further their already visible life. They are proud and exploit all their lovers as the playthings that they’ve become. Some have become famous by leaking a porno or being on a reality show. What was once a limited field has become wide open with lots of branches of thought and assumption. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for me to fight for my image… my persona… my legacy. But I did fight. I turned down almost every request I was presented to be interviewed for groupie documentaries or sensationalized TV shows. Sometimes turning down large sums of money. But I wanted to work hard and felt if I worked hard enough one day I’d be thought of for what I did on a stage, in front of the lens of a camera, as a mother and at times even a manager, more than who I shared my life with. Dare I use the “R” word? I wanted RESPECT.

There’s lots of contrast in the definition of groupie or muse but what about “partners”… the duos who took the world by storm. Sonny & Cher, Karen & Richard Carpenter, Debbie Harry & Chris Stein, Jack & Meg White, Jane Birkin & Serge Gainsbourg, Stevie Nicks & Lindsey Buckingham, Annie Lennox & Dave Stewart, Kim Gordon & Thurston Moore, etc… Or Chrissie Hynde and Courtney Love, who both married musicians. There’s a kaleidoscope of ways women are seen. It all depends on how you are first perceived. The general public seem to hold on to how they first heard of you even if you go on to do many different things in your life. Marianne Faithfull is a perfect example of someone who has been able to transcend her detractors and carry on like the warrior she is. But it baffles my mind how anyone could call her or Anita Pallenberg anything but tastemakers and trendsetters. They were the women I would stare at for hours as a young girl. They fascinated me almost more than the guys they hung out with. Yet I still hear them sometimes referred to as groupies.

Like any entertainer, I have an overwhelming need to be loved and to give love and positive energy to others. That’s why I crave being onstage. The connection with the audience is almost like having the best sex in the world. Or at minimum, a great, soulful hug that sends sparks through your body. I’ve been doing this since 1980, in public anyway. This is my life… not the talented, special men I dated in my youth. That’s part of my story and I will never regret a single heartbreak nor will I ever regret loving to the point of forgetting myself and my own pursuits. But I want to be remembered for more than my dates or suitors. I gave birth to a child who grew up to become a superstar so the role of nurturer has followed me throughout my life. I’ve accepted the fact that my fate is to be a vessel for talent and to enrich those who possess it. It’s become who I am- all the parts and pieces of my karma rolled into one big bang! My artistic side occupies just as much space as my musing side- equal parts love and creative energy.

Things come full circle especially when I get approached after one of my shows by young girls that call me “High Priestress” or tell me that they are my “groupies”. When I hear the words “Bebe, Im your biggest groupie!”, my heart swells but I also like to immediately remind them that I do what I do onstage because of them. Because of the exchange being a performer gives to my being. It’s like fuel… hors d’oeuvres for the soul.

One morning in 2009, I got a call from an old industry friend who had landed at Interscope Records. I was awoken with, “Bebe, you’ve been touted in a song produced by Pharrell Williams called ‘Bebe Buell’ by a young band from Boston called Chester French.” I remember thinking “wow, that’s a nice compliment” because the gist of the song was that someone like me or Pamela Anderson Lee were the creme de la creme of rock-boy desire. There’s a clothing line called ‘Muse & Lyrics‘ that has a blouse/top called “The Bebe” and the brand ‘I’m With The Band’ has named their leopard scarfs and headbands the “Bebe”. There’s even a cocktail called “The Bebe Buell”.

But I think one of the coolest things was having Cameron Crowe name the lead singer in Stillwater Jeff Bebe. He gave me the original T-shirt that was used in the movie, too, and boy do I treasure it! Cameron sprinkled all kinds of little clues and messages throughout Almost Famous. I was especially touched by the Jeff Bebe nod because he knew how much I wanted to be a singer in a band. I remember him once saying to me that I should just go for it. At that point, people only knew me as a model and Todd Rundgren’s girlfriend. I hadn’t even done Playboy yet, so I was still trying to figure out who I was and how to do it. I finally did but it took me six more years to get in the studio and front a band!

It’s moving to be honored and it’s also nice to be appreciated by the younger generation of pop culture lovers. The first time my name was in a song, I was excited by it. My old friend G.E. Smith had a line on his solo album that was about coming to visit “Bebe and Liz”… he came over to my best friend Liz Derringer’s house to play it for us. We were elated… it was cool. I would never be so bold as to sit here and make a list of my lovers or the songs they wrote for me because it seems so long ago. I’d rather leave that up to the fans of the music to decipher and besides not all songs written for others are acknowledged as such. I’ve had several songs given to me as gifts or written to me in letters.

Sometimes the authors don’t admit it because their feelings change and they don’t want to upset their new love interest. Didn’t Bob Dylan write “Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat”, “Just Like A Woman”, “Fourth Time Around” and “Like A Rolling Stone” about Edie Sedgwick, only to later deny it? I know the feeling because it’s happened to me. So, at this point in my life, I just cherish the letters (yes, I still have them so one day when we’re all gone they will maybe solve the puzzles) and I respect and allow artistic license to have its day. It’s an artist’s prerogative to change their minds so I hold no hurt feelings. Music buffs are pretty smart anyway and they usually know the truth, so it matters little unless it’s blatant. The one topic that irks me is that I claimed This Year’s Model was about me. Well, that’s impossible because I didn’t meet and start to date Elvis Costello until he was well into Armed Forces. I was living with him in London when he recorded it in the fall of 1978. He included a couple of lyrics from songs on Armed Forces in letters to me but I can say with certainty that “Party Girl” wasn’t one of them. I guess it was the timing of the release that made people speculate I was the subject, but I wasn’t and never claimed to be. He didn’t even know me when he wrote those records. Why this is disputed has always been a mystery to me. The songs Mr. Costello sent me in letters were from later albums, starting with Get Happy. I will always wonder too why he would say something so false and perpetuate a rumor twenty years later in the liner notes of a re-issue. Here’s to hoping it is finally put to rest. And even with the shame and pain I felt at the time, I feel no regret or ill will toward anyone. To me the truth is pretty obvious. Remember the story I told earlier about Catherine The Great? Revenge is often used when hearts are hurt, and it is very common in the entertainment industry.

In summing up my thoughts on the topic, I feel it’s time in our culture to appreciate the roles women have played in art since the beginning of time. Dali had his Gala, Picasso would hide the initials of his mistresses in his paintings and secretly tell them so they would know it was for them, Clapton immortalized his love and lust for Patti Boyd with the ultimate ode in “Layla” and John Lennon may have written the most beautiful love song of all for Yoko in “Woman”. Or was it Paul McCartney with “The Long And Winding Road” about Jane Asher or “Maybe I’m Amazed” about the spectacular Linda Eastman McCartney?

We can’t leave out the spirited and unique George Sand whose given name was Aurore Dupin. She was born in Paris on July 1, 1804 and adopted the name “George” because women couldn’t write professionally with the freedom of men in those days. She became one of the most popular writers in Europe during her lifetime- one of the most notable writers of the European Romantic era. She would wear male attire in public saying it was easier and more affordable than women’s garb. She was a confidant to Franz Liszt and lover and muse to Chopin. She would lie beneath the piano while Chopin composed, saying it sent the music through her entire body instead of just her ears.

Music is primal and it gets into our bloodstream. It’s easy to see why young girls get crushes on their idols and some even grow up to marry their dream man. But the days of defining women by their sexual desires or “conquests” should be on the wane. I never looked at the men I dated or loved as conquests. Humans aren’t territories to be battled over or ceded to. The human connection is divine. Each and every person we cross paths with is part of our magical life story. So, whatever you identify yourself as is fine. That is your privilege and judgement should not follow even if the choices aren’t the norm. As Oscar Wilde said, “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.”

*Closing side note* As I was finishing this essay, I was doodling with a People magazine crossword puzzle and one of the clues was “GROUPIE”. Guess what the answer was… “FAN”. The timing was uncanny!

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the-desolated-quill · 5 years

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Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2019

Congratulations! You’ve made it through another year! You’ve faced many obstacles and overcome many adversaries to arrive here, at the dawn of a new decade. So as we prepare to leave the 2010s and make our way into the 2020s, lets take a look back at the challenges and hardships of 2019. And by challenges and hardships, I of course mean shitty fiction and media.

Yes, it’s time for yet another edition of Quill’s Swill, where we mark the absolute worst stories that the industry had to offer over the past year and proceed to tear them to shreds. Think of it as like voiding your bowels before the New Year.

As always remember that this is my personal, subjective opinion. If you happen to like any of the things on this list, that’s fine. More power to you. Go make your own list. Also bear in mind I haven’t seen everything 2019 has to offer due to various other commitments. So as much as I really, really want to, I can’t put Avengers Endgame on here. I know what happens. It sounds fucking terrible, but I haven’t seen the film, so it wouldn’t be fair of me to put it on the list, even though it would most definitely deserve it.

...

Seriously, read the synopsis of Endgame on Wikipedia some time. It’s like fanfic written by a nine year old. It’s truly shocking. And now it’s the highest grossing movie of all time? Give me strength.

All In A Row

Don’t you just hate it when you’re expected to parent your autistic child? Like actually show love and care and consideration to your offspring. Look at him, expecting you to treat him like a human being. Selfish bastard! If only there was a play that explored the horrors of having to be a decent person to your own flesh and blood and how objectively awful it is. If you’re one of those people, then the play All In A Row will be right up your street.

Premiering on the 14th February at Southwark Playhouse in London, All In A Row was a total shitshow to say the least. The playwright, Alex Oates, claimed to have ten years of experience working with autistic children, which you wouldn’t have believed if you saw the play as the autistic child at the centre of the play, Lawrence, seemed more like a wild animal than a person. In fact two of the main characters compare him to a dog. And if you thought this wasn’t dehumanising enough, Lawrence isn’t even a child. He’s a puppet. Yes, it’s as bad as it sounds.

All In A Row seems to place all of the blame for the family’s predicament on the autistic child, who’s presented as barely functional, bordering on bestial. There’s no effort to really make an emotional connection with Lawrence (how can you? He’s a puppet!) as the play instead focuses on how this kid has effectively ruined this family’s life because of his autism and aggressive behaviour. Speaking as someone on the autism spectrum, I can say quite confidently that this play is fucking despicable. Badly written, badly conceived, insulting and downright mean spirited. I wouldn’t want Oates looking after my autistic children, that’s for damn sure.

Anthem

EA is back and this time they’re dragging the critical darling that is BioWare down with them.

Anthem was a desperate attempt to jump aboard the ‘live service’ bandwagon, trying to replicate the success of other video games like Overwatch, Destiny and Warframe. They failed spectacularly. The game itself had more bugs than A Bug’s Life, loot drops were often stingy and unrewarding, loading times were farcically long, and the story and worldbuilding was fucking pitiful. Oh yeah, and if you played it on PS4, there was a good chance it could permanently damage it. Thankfully I have a uni friend with an Xbox One and they allowed me to play the game on that. It was a crushing disappointment, especially coming fresh off the heels of Mass Effect Andromeda, which didn’t exactly set the world on fire back in 2017.

It didn’t help that EA’s reputation was in tatters thanks to the lootbox controversy of Star Wars Battlefront II and having to try and win back the trust of fans, but worse still reports began to service of what went on behind the scenes at BioWare during the game’s development. Apparently the game’s story and mechanics kept changing every other day as the creative directors and writers didn’t have the faintest idea what kind of game they wanted to make, and the developers were often forced to work obscenely long work hours in abusive crunch periods to get the game finished for launch. It got so bad that, according to an article on Kotaku, some members of the team had to leave for weeks or even months at a time to recover from ‘stress casualties.’

To think this was the same company that gave us Mass Effect, Dragon Age and Knights Of The Old Republic. Thank God that Obsidian Entertainment is there to pick up the slack on the RPG front because I think it’s safe to assume that BioWare won’t be around for much longer at this rate.

The Lion King (2019 remake)

Here we go. Yet another live action remake of a Disney classic. Excpet it’s not live action, is it? Well... it’s live action in the sense that Dinosaur was live action (remember that film? Don’t worry if you don’t. No one does). Real locations but CGI characters. Millions of dollars spent on cutting edge tech to create photo realistic animals... and the film ends up duller than a bowl of porridge that really likes trainspotting.

It’s not just the fact that The Lion King remake is yet another soulless cash grab from the House of Mouse, it’s also the fact that it’s done really badly that upsets me. The Lion King works as an animated film. Bright colourful images, over the top song and dance sequences and vibrant character designs. As a ‘live action’ film, it just looks awkward and stilted. None of the animals are very expressive, leaving it up to the poor voice actors to carry the film, and to cap it all off the CGI isn’t even all that convincing in my opinion. At no point did I look at Simba and go ‘oh yeah, he looks like a real lion.’ It’s so obviously fake. In fact it reminds me of those early 00s movies like Cats & Dogs or Stuart Little where you see the jaws of the talking animals moving up and down like some messed up ventriloquist act or something. And here’s me thinking cinema has evolved past this.

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds

Remember Peter Harness? That guy who wrote that Doctor Who episode about the moon being an egg? Yeah, he’s back and he’s doing an adaptation of H.G. Wells’ War Of The Worlds. And guess what! It’s fucking ghastly! :D

The three part BBC mini-series was without a doubt some of the worst telly I think I’ve ever seen. It’s staggering how clueless Harness is as a writer. For starters he managed to achieve the impossible and somehow made a Martian invasion of Earth boring. I didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow he pulled it off. Then he sucks all tension out of the story by revealing the ultimate fate of the Martians at the beginning of the second episode, so now any threat or danger has been chucked out of the window because we know that the main female protagonist Amy at least would survive. And then finally he takes a massive dump over the source material by having humanity weaponise typhoid to kill the red weed rather than just having the Martians die of the common cold like in the book. Because God forbid us Brits should be presented as anything other than heroic and dignified.

So what we’re left with is a poorly realised allegory with ineffectual horror tropes full of OTT progressive posturing in a pathetic attempt to make Harness and the BBC look more liberal than they actually are. There’s no effort to really explore the themes of imperialism and colonialism outside of casual lip service, and we barely get a glimpse of the dark side of humanity. Everyone is presented as flawed, but basically awesome or, in the case of Rafe Spall’s character, utterly gormless. Our TV license fees help fund this shit, you know?!

And if you think this was bad, just wait till New Year’s Day where we’ll get to see Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ butcher Dracula. Can we stop giving these beloved literary icons to these hacks please?

Glass

I liked Split. It wasn’t an amazing movie, but it was entertaining with some good ideas, a great performance from James McAvoy and was a true return to form for M Night Shyamalan. That being said, I wasn’t keen on the idea of it taking place in the same universe as Unbreakable. I feared it would be a step too far and we’d end up having something like... well, something like Glass.

On paper, Glass isn’t a bad idea. The idea of superpowers being a delusion is legitimately intriguing and could have been a great post-modern deconstruction of the superhero genre. Except Shyamalan never actually does anything with it. The first act drags on and on with absolutely nothing happening, none of the characters really grow or change over the course of the film, Bruce Willis in particular is basically only here for an extended cameo as his character does pretty much nothing for the majority of the film, and then the entire film is undermined by that stupid Shyamalan twist. Turns out superhumans are real and there’s a big cover up. Oh great! So not only does it render the entire film pointless, it also undoes what made Unbreakable and Split so good. They’re no longer people capable of extraordinary feats via rational means. They’re just superhuman. They can do anything. Sigh.

Shyamalan... maybe it’s time to give up the director’s chair, yeah?

Cats

Oh come on! Don’t act surprised! Did you honestly think I wouldn’t put Cats on this list?!

Cats, without a doubt, is the worst film of the decade and, yes, the CGI is terrible. Not only are there these sub-human cat mutants running around, we also have mice and cockroaches with child faces, James Corden coughing up furballs, Taylor Swift trying to give the furries in the audience boners, Idris Elba looking disturbingly underdressed and Rebel Wilson being... well... Rebel Wilson. It’s a disaster of a film. And really, should we even be surprised? We all knew this was going to suck. And no it’s not because of the CGI. I thought the CGI in Pokemon: Detective Pikachu was creepy as well, but at least it had a decent script and good performances to back it up. No the reason why Cats sucked is because... it’s Cats. It’s always been that bad. No amount of ‘advanced fur technology’ was going to change that. It was still going to be a confused, plotless mess with one dimensional characters and bad songs.

The only consolation I had was that I didn’t waste money buying a ticket. A friend of mine snuck me into the premiere and we watched it in the projector room. The plan was to make fun of it and have a laugh, but we didn’t even do that because honestly there’s nothing to really make fun. There’s only so many times you can take the piss out of the CGI and honestly the film was just boring more than anything else. It doesn’t even have the distinction of being so bad it’s good like Sharknado or Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. It’s just bad, period.

I just hope we don’t see something similar happen to Starlight Express. Just think. Anthropomorphic, singing trains on roller skates. Shudder.

Star Wars: The Rise Of Skywalker

Finally we have yet another cynical cash grab from Disney.

I confess I didn’t exactly go into The Rise Of Skywalker with an open mind. I was never all that keen on a sequel trilogy in the first place, and neither The Force Awakens nor The Last Jedi ever convinced me otherwise. Admittedly they weren’t bad movies. Just derivative and painfully uninspired, and I was expecting more of the same for Episode IX. What I got instead was quite possibly the worst Star Wars film since Attack Of The Clones. Yes, it’s that bad.

This film is very poorly made, filled with plot contrivances and logic holes galore. I lost count of the number of times the protagonists got into a dangerous situation because of Rey constantly wandering off like a confused toddler lost in a shopping mall. Oh and we finally find out who her parents were and it was quite a twist, but only because it was really stupid. Of course we didn’t see it coming because nobody would have guessed it would be something that moronic. I feel JJ Abrams’ stupid ‘mystery box’ philosophy is to blame for this. It’s derailed countless franchises before such as Lost and Cloverfield, and now Abrams has fucked up Star Wars because he’s obsessed with mystery for the sake of mystery and Disney are so lazy that they couldn’t be bothered to plan an actual trilogy out properly beforehand. Instead they just wing it, making it up as they go along, which led to Rian Johnson ‘subverting our expectations’ and left Abrams desperately trying to pick up the pieces.

In fact a lot of The Rise Of Skywalker seemed designed specifically to appease people of both sides of the wide chasm The Last Jedi had created. The roles of characters of colour like Finn and Rose were significantly reduced, Poe and Finn don’t end up together because of homophobia, but we do see two women kiss in the background of one two second shot that could easily be cut out when they release the film in China, Kylo Ren gets his stupid redemption even though he hasn’t fucking earned it, Lando Calrissian shows up for no fucking reason, Rey is given ‘flaws’ relating to her parentage in order to combat those accusing her of being a Mary Sue, but they’re the boring kind of flaws that don’t have any real impact on her character, and that ghastly ship Reylo is made canon even though it makes no sodding sense in the context of this movie, let alone the whole trilogy. They even go to the trouble of baiting us with a FinnRey romance before pulling the rug out from under us. Then, just to add insult to injury, the film retroactively ends up making the entire original trilogy completely pointless. All because Disney wanted more dollars to put in their Scrooge McDuck money bin.

The Rise Of Skywalker, and indeed the entire sequel trilogy, should serve as a cautionary tale against the dangers of hype and nostalgia. The reason The Force Awakens was successful wasn’t because it was a good movie (because lets be brutally honest here, it really fucking wasn’t). It was because it gave gullible Star Wars fans warm fuzzies because it reminded them of A New Hope whilst tempting them with the vague promise that things might get more interesting later on. And when that didn’t materialise, quelle surprise, the fanbase didn’t take it very well. I would love to think that this will serve as an important lesson for the future when people go and see Disney movies, but who am I kidding? I guarantee at some point we’re going to get Episodes X, XI and XII and we’ll have to go through this sorry process all over again.

So there we have it. The worst of 2019. May they rot forever in Satan’s rectum or wherever it is stories go to die. Tomorrow we’ll take a look at the other end of the spectrum. Yes it’s the Quill Seal Of Approval Awards! The best of the best! Who shall win? The suspense is killing me! Ooooh, I can’t wait! You’ll be there tomorrow, won’t you? Of course you will. How could you not?

#quill's swill #quill's swill 2019 #worst of the year #review #opinion

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brilliantkey · 5 years

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The Bodyguard and His Prince

Part 1

A/N: This story was initially inspired by this post, then flipped around, co/re-inspired, and reworked based on the synopsis of this book. I haven’t read the book so don’t expect the story to be similar to the book if you’ve read it. Also, I still plan to write a story based on the initial inspiration, but this story took seed first.

Pairing: Stucky Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes Prince!Steve Rogers

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He looked over at the man sleeping next to him. With what little light there was coming through the window, he could make out blonde hair, a muscular back and large arms. To the other side of him was a lean but well-developed chest and long dark hair. The large blonde – Thor? – had drunkenly let it slip that the two were brothers but that the brunette was adopted. He’d also went on to describe how beautiful his brother was when Thor had proposed the threesome. It hadn’t stopped Bucky at the time. He’d been looking for a warm body for the night and got a two-for-one special.

Bucky slowly slid off the bed and went in search of his clothes and shoes, which were strewn both in the bedroom and the living room. While he’d had fun with both men the night before, he certainly wasn’t looking for anything more than a good time for one night. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the blonde and brunette cared more for each other than they were willing to let on. His suspicion was confirmed when he looked back at the bed before leaving the room and found that the large blonde had shifted in his sleep and was tenderly holding the lean brunette.

Bucky gathered his clothes and softly closed the bedroom door. He checked to make sure he had all his belongings before getting dressed heading towards the front door. He stopped when he saw a photo of Thor and his brother – Loki? – framed on a decorative bookshelf. In the photo, Loki was dressed in a black suit. Thor was dressed more casually in a jacket, hoodie and t-shirt and was staring at his brother. The look of affection and longing in his eyes was unmistakable. At his weakest moments, Bucky would admit to himself that he wanted to have someone who would look at him that way. Working security didn’t leave much room for a personal life. Even before that, during his time in the army, he never had much time for more than a fling or two with the same person. His longest relationship lasted about a month and only because it was with a co-worker.

Normally, he’d just leave without a word. But as he passed the kitchen counter on the way towards the door, he grabbed a notepad and a pen and left a short message:

Thor: Take your shot. If he means that much to you, don’t let anything stop you. -BB

HRH Prince Steven of Erskine preferred to shy away from public attention. However, his public relations team insisted he attend a New York City movie premiere to show the public that he had gotten over his recent break-up with Duchess Margaret “Peggy” Carter. Fortunately, Natasha, the head of his PR team, agreed that he should wave at the cameras from a distance and avoid interviews at all costs. In all honesty, the relationship between Steve and Peggy was never going to last. Peggy was dedicated to her work. That was what had attracted him to the brunette in the first place. But they had been dating for several years and the public was expecting them to marry and produce an heir. When she’d been told, in no uncertain terms by Her Majesty Queen Sarah, that Peggy would have to step down as director of the nation’s counter-terrorism agency if she were to become queen, it had put the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

Since they met, Steve knew that their relationship would meet this inevitable ending. Though he’d hoped they would be able to work out their differences, Steve knew that Peggy was dedicated to her career and would never step down, even to be queen.

Steve tried to shake these thoughts out of his head as he walked down the red-carpet premiere. He didn’t recognize a lot of the people there. Of the few that he did recognize, he started to wonder how likely it would be to get out of there without having to speak with anyone. His chances plummeted to zero when he saw Tony Stark walk towards him. Most people wouldn’t have enough clearance to just approach them prince of a sovereign nation. However, billionaire and philanthropist – “And playboy, don’t forget playboy,” Stark would likely add – Tony Stark had frequently worked with Steve on improving the lives of the people of Erskine. They had bonded over the fact that the country’s namesake was a scientist and inventor like Stark himself.

“Wow,” Tony had said after Steve had told him the story of King Abraham injecting his son, Prince Stephan, with a serum to improve his health and help defend their small nation. “So all I have to do is come up with some technology to help defend the country and I could probably become the king of small nation, too. Hey, yours isn’t for sale by any chance? I could probably come up with a suit of armor that shots lasers.”

Despite his irreverent nature, Tony had quickly become a close friend. He took his self-selected title of philanthropist seriously. If they had met indoors, Steve was certain that he would’ve been embraced in a big hug. Instead, oddly mindful of royal customs, Tony shook his hand and posed for a few photos with the prince before heading inside. Steve decided to pose for a few more photos, making sure to display his PR smile. The lights blinded him and he could barely see the people on the other side of the barrier. Just as he decided to the sound of a car backfire rang out. Except, he felt something hot graze his cheek and a commotion broke out in the crowd. When he reached up to touch his check, he felt a drop of blood begin to pool against his fingers. If he’d had a chance to look behind him, he’d have seen a bullet hole in the backdrop behind him. In the commotion, his bodyguards formed a human shield around him and rushed him back to his bulletproof car and the safety of the embassy.

Bucky received a call from Clint as he was arriving at his apartment early that morning. Thor and Loki’s apartment wasn’t too far away and Bucky chose to walk rather than take the subway or a cab.

“Go for Barnes,” Bucky spoke into the receiver of his cell.

“Bucky, it’s Clint. We’ve got a job that we need to report to at 1300 hours.”

He headed to the closet where he kept a spare bag full of essentials for emergencies like this. He shifted the phone to his other ear and pinned it against this shoulder. He set the bag out on the his kitchen counter and ducked into the bathroom to collect his small toiletry bag. He had enough time to shower, change clothes and grab a quick lunch before meeting Clint.

“Where’s the job and how long?”

“It’s in a country called Erskine. It’s located-”

“I know where it’s located,” Bucky interrupted Clint. “What else can you tell me about the job?”

“Well,” Clint started, “it’s at least a week long and it’ll begin in New York. You’ll be guarding Crown Prince Steven of Erskine.”

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Stucky #Stucky AU #bodyguard au

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justforbooks · 5 years

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Rock music isn't dead, but it's barely hanging on

This is true in at least two senses.

Though popular music sales in general have plummeted since their peak around the turn of the millennium, certain genres continue to generate commercial excitement: pop, rap, hip-hop, country. But rock — amplified and often distorted electric guitars, bass, drums, melodic if frequently abrasive lead vocals, with songs usually penned exclusively by the members of the band — barely registers on the charts. There are still important rock musicians making music in a range of styles — Canada's Big Wreck excels at sophisticated progressive hard rock, for example, while the more subdued American band Dawes artfully expands on the soulful songwriting that thrived in California during the 1970s. But these groups often toil in relative obscurity, selling a few thousand records at a time, performing to modest-sized crowds in clubs and theaters.

But there's another sense in which rock is very nearly dead: Just about every rock legend you can think of is going to die within the next decade or so.

Yes, we've lost some already. On top of the icons who died horribly young decades ago — Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Elvis Presley, John Lennon — there's the litany of legends felled by illness, drugs, and just plain old age in more recent years: George Harrison, Ray Charles, Michael Jackson, Lou Reed, David Bowie, Glenn Frey, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Tom Petty.

Those losses have been painful. But it's nothing compared with the tidal wave of obituaries to come. The grief and nostalgia will wash over us all. Yes, the Boomers left alive will take it hardest — these were their heroes and generational compatriots. But rock remained the biggest game in town through the 1990s, which implicates GenXers like myself, no less than plenty of millennials.

All of which means there's going to be an awful lot of mourning going on.

Behold the killing fields that lie before us: Bob Dylan (78 years old); Paul McCartney (77); Paul Simon (77) and Art Garfunkel (77); Carole King (77); Brian Wilson (77); Mick Jagger (76) and Keith Richards (75); Joni Mitchell (75); Jimmy Page (75) and Robert Plant (71); Ray Davies (75); Roger Daltrey (75) and Pete Townshend (74); Roger Waters (75) and David Gilmour (73); Rod Stewart (74); Eric Clapton (74); Debbie Harry (74); Neil Young (73); Van Morrison (73); Bryan Ferry (73); Elton John (72); Don Henley (72); James Taylor (71); Jackson Browne (70); Billy Joel (70); and Bruce Springsteen (69, but turning 70 next month).

A few of these legends might manage to live into their 90s, despite all the … wear and tear to which they've subjected their bodies over the decades. But most of them will not.

This will force us not only to endure their passing, but to confront our own mortality as well.

From the beginning, rock music has been an expression of defiance, an assertion of youthful vitality and excess and libido against the ravages of time and maturity. This impulse sometimes (frequently?) veered into foolishness. Think of the early rock anthem in which the singer proclaimed, "I hope I die before I get old." As a gesture, this was a quintessential statement of rock bravado, but I doubt very much its author (The Who's Pete Townshend) regrets having survived into old age.

It's one thing for a young musician to insist it's better to burn out than to fade away. But does this defiance commit the artist to a life of self-destruction, his authenticity tied to his active courting of annihilation? Only a delusional teenager convinced of his own invincibility, or a nihilist, could embrace such an ideal. For most rock stars, the bravado was an act, or it became one as the months stretched into years and then decades. The defiance tended to become sublimated into art, with the struggle against limits and constraints — the longing to break on through to the other side — merging with creative ambition to produce something of lasting worth. The rock star became another in our civilization's long line of geniuses raging against the dying of the light.

Rock music was always a popular art made and consumed by ordinary, imperfect people. The artists themselves were often self-taught, absorbing influences from anywhere and everywhere, blending styles in new ways, pushing against their limitations as musicians and singers, taking up and assimilating technological innovations as quickly as they appeared. Many aspired to art — in composition, record production, and performance — but to reach it they had to ascend up and out of the muck from which they started.

Before rock emerged from rhythm and blues in the late 1950s, and again since it began its long withdrawing roar in the late 1990s, the norm for popular music has been songwriting and record production conducted on the model of an assembly line. This is usually called the "Brill Building" approach to making music, named after the building in midtown Manhattan where leading music industry offices and studios were located in the pre-rock era. Professional songwriters toiled away in small cubicles, crafting future hits for singers who made records closely overseen by a team of producers and corporate drones. Today, something remarkably similar happens in pop and hip-hop, with song files zipping around the globe to a small number of highly successful songwriters and producers who add hooks and production flourishes in order to generate a team-built product that can only be described as pristine, if soulless, perfection.

This is music created by committee and consensus, actively seeking the largest possible audience as an end in itself. Rock (especially as practiced by the most creatively ambitious bands of the mid-1960s: The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, and the Beach Boys) shattered this way of doing things, and for a few decades, a new model of the rock auteur prevailed. As critic Steven Hyden recounts in his delightful book Twilight of the Gods: A Journey to the End of Classic Rock, rock bands and individual rock stars were given an enormous amount of creative freedom, and the best of them used every bit of it. They wrote their own music and lyrics, crafted their own arrangements, experimented with wildly ambitious production techniques, and oversaw the design of their album covers, the launching of marketing campaigns, and the conjuring of increasingly theatrical and decadent concert tours.

This doesn't mean there was no corporate oversight or outside influence on rock musicians. Record companies and professional producers and engineers were usually at the helm, making sure to protect their reputations and investments. Yet to an astonishing degree, the artists got their way. Songs and albums were treated by all — the musicians themselves, but also the record companies, critics, and of course the fans — as Statements. For a time, the capitalist juggernaut made possible and sustained the creation of popular art that sometimes achieved a new form of human excellence. That it didn't last shouldn't keep us from appreciating how remarkable it was while it did.

Like all monumental acts of creativity, the artists were driven by an aspiration to transcend their own finitude, to create something of lasting value, something enduring that would live beyond those who created it. That striving for immortality expressed itself in so many ways — in the deafening volume and garish sensory overload of rock concerts, in the death-defying excess of the parties and the drugs, in the adulation of groupies eager to bed the demigods who adorned their bedroom walls, in the unabashed literary aspirations of the singer-songwriters, in mind-blowing experiments with song forms marked by seemingly inhuman rhythmic and harmonic complexity, in the orchestral sweep, ambition, and (yes) frequent pretension of concept albums and rock operas. All of it was a testament to the all-too-human longing to outlast the present — to live on past our finite days. To grasp and never let go of immortality.

It was all a lie, but it was a beautiful one. The rock stars' days are numbered. They are going to die, as will we all. No one gets out alive. When we mourn the passing of the legends and the tragic greatness of what they've left behind for us to enjoy in the time we have left, we will also be mourning for ourselves.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS

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jobsearchtips02 · 4 years

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Pickup Trucks Getting Huge. Got Problem With That?

A FEW MONTHS ago, on an ordinary day in an unremarkable

Costco

parking lot, I was nearly squashed by an unusually large pickup. Thank God I was wearing a mask.

As that chrome grille closed on me like a man-eating Norelco shaver, time slowed. It seemed I was watching myself from afar, being nimble for a man my age, darting from the path of a towering, limousine-black pickup with temporary plates, whose driver barely checked his pace. Jerk.

What the hell was that thing? A 2020 GMC Sierra HD Denali? It was huge! The domed hood was at forehead level. The paramedics would have had to extract me from the grille with a spray hose, like Randall Jarrell’s ball-turret gunner.

He didn’t even see me.

Later, returning to my car, I noticed something: The parking lot was dotted with similarly enormous luxury pickups—many new, many taking up two spaces: Ram,

Ford,

Chevy, GMC. They stood out like Percherons in a herd of Shetland ponies.

“ Are pickups really getting bigger, on average, or do they just look scarier? Both. The average pickup gained 1,142 pounds between 1990 and 2019. ”

What is going on here? When did pickups get so big? And why are XL-sized pickups so big now?

I know. Pickup trucks at Costco. Film at 11. Except that in April, U.S. sales of pickups surpassed automobiles for the first time ever—about 112 years, give or take. Trucks and truck-based sport-utilities now account for roughly 70% of new vehicles sold in the U.S.

How we came to be Pickup Nation is a longer story (cheap gas, the Chicken Tax, IRS Section 179, marketing). But this year, to help move the tin during the pandemic, U.S. auto makers laid out a bounty of discounts and cheap financing, including 0% interest for 84 months and deferred-payment plans.

“Pickups without a doubt benefited from the great deals,” said Mark Schirmer, spokesperson for market service providers Cox Automotive. “And the deals were particularly great for consumers buying expensive vehicles.” The data suggest these incentives also juiced a boomlet in XL-sized, heavy-duty pickups, otherwise known as ¾-ton and 1-ton pickups, for private use.

That’s right: Gucci cowboys. Historically aimed at commercial customers, sole proprietors, horse-haulers and mega-RVers, heavy-duty pickups are stronger and taller than ordinary (half-ton) trucks, with cabs mounted high above reinforced frame rails and heavy, long-travel suspensions. But HD trucks have evolved in the past decade, irradiated with the same prestige-luxury rays as light-duty trucks.

Behold MotorTrend 2020 Truck of the Year, the Ram Heavy-Duty. In Limited trim (about $65,000 with four-wheel drive but before options) the 2500 HD sports an elaborate chromified grille that gleams like a tea service. Its flight deck glows with untrucky amenities such as acoustically insulated glass; active noise canceling; 12-inch center touch screen; wood trim, premium leather—all paired with a maximum 19,680-pound towing capacity. With the optional cab lights, it measures over 6-feet-9 inches tall.

Thus has been born a uniquely American vehicle type: the mega-luxury mega-pickup.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

The dimensions of Chevy’s 2020 Silverado 2500 HD LTZ. Just how big?

Photo: Chevrolet

81.85 in. wide

79.82 in. tall

249.95 in. long

It seems to be resonating. While sales of Silverado light-duty were off 18.6% in the second quarter, sales of the HD model sales were off less than a point. GMC’s light-duty Sierra was down 9.5%, while sales of our menacing new friend, the Sierra HD, were up 7.6% in the second quarter and 21.5% year-to-date.

Ford and

Fiat Chrysler Automobiles

don’t break out HD sales from pickups overall. However, Ram’s average transaction price in the second quarter soared above $50,000, according to a Cox Automotive analysis of data from Kelley Blue Book. Ford F-Series sales fell 23% (to 180,825 units) but its ATP was mostly unaffected—$51,688, the highest among pickups.

In July, J.D. Power declared Sierra HD the king of the bro-dozers, placing it first in its 2020 U.S. APEAL Study of Large Heavy-Duty Pickups, which tracks owners’ excitement and emotional attachment in the first 90 days.

“The front end was always the focal point,” GM designer Karan Moorjani told Muscle Cars & Trucks e-zine. “We spent a lot of time making sure that when you stand in front of this thing it looks like it’s going to come get you.”

Mission accomplished.

But are pickups really getting bigger, on average, or do they just look scarier? The answers are somewhat and definitely. The average pickup on the road gained 1,142 pounds between 1990 and 2019, according to the U.S. Department of Energy’s Oak Ridge National Laboratory, and 730 pounds since 2000.

“One of the most significant changes in that time was the arrival of crew-cab configurations, which added cab space to make them more family and work friendly,” said Mike Levine, Ford spokesperson.

In 2011, a change in the way the feds calculate vehicle fuel economy (the so-called “footprint rule”) gave domestic truck makers incentive to go big. Ever since, GMC, Chevy, Ram and Ford have been locked in a competitive feedback loop chasing best-in-class attributes and capacities—the “towing/hauling” wars. For MY 2019, for example, Ram’s 1500 Crew Cab gained 3.9 inches in overall length over a 4.1-inch longer wheelbase. In the same model-year, the Chevy Silverado gained 1.7 inches in length on a 3.9-inch longer wheelbase.

As a result, new light-duty pickup dimensions are approaching those of heavy-duty pickups. While the 2021 F-150 is about 18 inches shorter than the equivalent F-250, it is the same width (79.9). Mr. Levine noted that the company has gone to a common-cab design, using the same four-door living quarters for both light- and heavy-duty models.

“ ‘The face of these trucks is where the action is, a Chevy must shout Chevy. Every pickup has become a rolling brand billboard and the billboards are big.’ ”

Ask any kid with a crayon. If you draw the box in the middle bigger, you have to make the ones on the end bigger, too.

Which brings us to the 2020 Silverado HD—10 inches longer, 1.8 inches wider, and 1.6 inches taller than the previous model. The big Chevy’s challenging kisser comprises a thick, knee-high bumper; a central grille opening; several sets of lighting assemblies; a full-width transverse element helpfully informing with the message CHEVROLET…and then, above that, between very square corners, is a whole other layer, then a peaked hood with a central inlet. This hood line meets the base of the windshield about 6 inches above the side window sill.

Another cause of facial swelling? Marketing. “Full-size pickups are generally identical in profile,” Mr. Schirmer said. “The face of these trucks is where the action is; a Ford has to say Ford from head on, a Chevy must shout Chevy. Every pickup has become a rolling brand billboard and the billboards are big.”

You don’t have to be Steven Pinker to see that truck designers are leaning into the bully with these lantern-jawed bumpers and walls of chrome. Detroit’s blithe codifications of purposeful and powerful pickup design fail to describe the intimidation factor from the outside.

“A few brands, Ram and Ford, have taken to an overscale brand identity [and] applied it onto the grille,” said Kimberly Marte, associate professor of design at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena. “The Chevy team did benchmarking of new models and followed the trend.”

It’s not clear how long pickup designs can keep getting their chrome on. In 2018 the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) released a study examining the connection between SUV design and pedestrian fatalities. In a separate study released in June, IIHS found fatal single-vehicle crashes involving SUVs striking pedestrians increased 81% from 2009 to 2016.

While IIHS studied SUVs and not pickups, “The key is the geometry of the front end, the high and flat shape,” said Becky Mueller, a senior research engineer for IIHS. “It’s like hitting a wall.”

XL-pickups’ high-rising hoods also create significant blind spots just ahead of the vehicle. I know because apparently I was in one of them. While truck makers like Ford offer automatic emergency braking and pedestrian detection systems as standard equipment on most trims, and forward-view cameras as an option, such systems are not mandatory, as they would be in Europe.

NHTSA proposed that new pedestrian-safety tests for SUVs and trucks be included in the New Car Assessment Program in 2015. But as of this writing, the agency had not issued guidance on new standards. When asked, the industry trade group Alliance for Automotive Innovation had no comment.

And what if the next administration should issue pickup-pedestrian safety rules? Could the extra tall hoods and bluff grilles, the sightlines, the scale, the very form language of the traditional American pickup ever be made pedestrian safe? “Of course not,” said Ms. Marte. “No way.”

So watch yourself at Costco.

TOO BIG FOR ITS BRITCHES?

Sizing up Chevy’s 2020 Silverado 2500HD

Photo: Chevrolet

HIGH-END HOOD: Modern pickups like the Silverado 2500 HD LT with Z71 Off-Road Package appear huge not just because roofs have gotten taller (topping out around 80 inches), but because hoods have grown relative to a truck’s overall height.

KING-SIZE BED: The 2020 Silverado 2500 HD Crew Cab with Standard Bed is 10.3 inches longer, 1.3 inches wider, and 1.6 inches taller than the 2019 model.

GAUDY GRILLE: The vast chrome rictus of Chevy’s Silverado has been coolly received by some critics and customers. But Silverado sales are up, and there’s a booming business in aftermarket grilles.

A STEP UP: To assist you in boarding its very tall seat—which maintains proportionality with the height of the hood, the 2021 Silverado HD High Country is available with power running boards that automatically slide out to meet you.

GRILLE MASTERS

The changing face of pickup trucks over the past century

Photo: Ford Motor Company

1926: Ford Model T Runabout

Dearborn’s first pickup shared a distinctive radiator shape with the Model T, and sported a cargo box that measured 56 inches long by 40 inches wide.

Photo: Getty Images

1949: International Harvester KR-1

Old school even by 1949 standards, the KB-1 model got a little bling with chrome plated wings lateral to the grille and even a hood ornament.

Photo: Getty Images

1949: Dodge Power Wagon

This medium-duty pickup was based on a WWII-era Dodge military truck and retained the “flat fender” for which they became known.

Photo: Alamy

1949: GMC Model FC pickup

Like competing Chevys of the era, GMC Trucks were fronted with “Bumper Bar” grilles—large horizontal bars surrounded by a thick frame on the top and sides.

Photo: FCA US Media

1963: Jeep Gladiator J-200 Thriftside

Are you not entertained? The Gladiator’s early years featured the coolest grilles—centrally mounted, canted forward, with the Jeep badge in the lower-left.

MORE SWANK, LESS SCHLEP

How Ford’s uber-popular F-150 pickup has changed shape and style since 1995

PICKUPS AND SUVS have become the vehicles of choice for U.S. drivers over the last 25 years. Along the way, they’ve also become less trucklike, emphasizing comfort as well as capability. Take the F-150, the flagship of Ford’s F-Series, America’s bestselling vehicles 43 years running, which has morphed from rural work truck into a daily-driving people-mover as suburbanites ditched minivans in droves. The bestselling F-150 of 1995 was a rigid two-door set with a 6.5-foot bed; today’s bestselling F-150 has four doors, copious creature comforts, and a cargo box that’s a full foot shorter. —Aaron Stern

Photo: Ford Motor Company

1995 F-150 SuperCab XL 4×4

Length: 235” Width: 79”

Curb Weight: 4,600 lbs. Payload Box: 6.5’

Photo: Ford Motor Company

2020 F-150 SuperCrew XLT 4×4

Length: 231.9” Width: 79.9”

Curb Weight: 4,858 lbs. Payload box: 5.5’

from Job Search Tips https://jobsearchtips.net/pickup-trucks-getting-huge-got-problem-with-that/

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alifeiwishwasreal · 7 years

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Clichés - Jughead Jones Oneshot

Character: Jughead Jones Gender: Female. Info: The reader is a waitress at Pops.

“No.” “That’s outrageous. That’s a crime. You should protest.” “And lose my job?” “Why not? You serve enough of them.” “If I take one and eat it on the job, it gets taken out of my wages.” You told him as you began to slide out of the booth, turning around and putting your hands on the table. “Also, do you wanna stay until closing with me?” You asked

“Please…” “No.” “Pleaaasssseee Juggie.” “I’m gonna be here until midnight.” “I’ll sneak you a free milkshake.” You asked cheekily with a smile as he rolled his eyes, sighing and pulling out his laptop. “Thank you thank you thank you.” You told him, grabbing your pencil from out of your ponytail and going to take some more orders.

Waitressing part time in Pops not only looked good for your CV, but earned you extra cash. It meant you learnt value and weren’t pestering your parents for money. Plus, it’s not the worst job in the world.

Then the sheriff walked in, and locked his eyes on you. “Miss Y/L/N.” “Sheriff. What can I do for you?” You asked politely as you heard the taping of Jugs keyboard stop to listen. “I’m under the impression you served the Blossom twins on the 3rd of July.” “Yeah, I was working a double shift. They ordered a vanilla milkshake between them.” You explained simply. “None of your co-workers heard or saw anything suspicious did you?” He asked, as if doubtful. “I can ask but I’ve heard nothing. I overheard him talk about football and then their grandmother but that was the extent of it. I’m sorry I can’t be of further help.” You told him as he nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.” “Can I get you anything while you’re here?” “A burger to take away wouldn’t go amiss.” “I’ll get it myself, give me 2 minutes.” You smiled and walked off, Jughead wondering how you could always be so polite, so graceful, considerate. He’s surprised you’ve never burst with some of the people you handle, but practise makes perfect he guessed.

You were blasting a song on the jukebox as you continued to wipe down the tables. Jug had been staring at his computer intently for a bit too long for now. “Three?” You voiced as he looked up to you in the empty shop. “You ever think about writing a fiction novel?” You asked him, taking a quick break to slump into the seat across from him. “I think real life is more interesting than fantasy’s about unrealistic creatures.” “Fiction can be naturalistic. Some of my favourite novels are fiction.” You voiced as he looked up with a smile. “Maybe in the future. For now, I’m writing one book at a time.” He smirked as you got up and swished around on the mopped floor, your skirt following you. “Would you ever write a character based on me?” You asked with a smile as Juggie leant his cheek on his fist, mock thinking. “Hard working girl, small town, desperate to escape and unpopular? Sorry Y/N/N, you’re just too much of a cliché.” He shrugged as you put your hand on your chest, pretending to be offended. “Me? A cliché? Excuse me but I am a unique beautiful butterfly that is one in a billion.” “That still means there are still seven of you.” He voiced as you walked past and pushed his shoulder.

“But if I put you in a book then I have to put me in as well. And no one likes me as a person, nevermind a character.” “Are you kidding me? 1. A lot of people like you as a person and 2. There are some characters that have worse qualities than you do and people still love them. You’d be adored.” You told him as you turned of the lights and brought down the exit of the counter. “You think?” “Well, I would adore you anyway.” You said, shrugging on your jacket. “Now c'mon Steven King, there’s a bed that’s calling my name.”

“Y/N, sleuthing tonight. You coming?” “Sorry Three. Working.” You said as he groaned, Ronnie looking over confused. “Three?” “There’s been Jughead One and Jughead Two. So he’s number Three.” You shrugged as you began to eat your chips. “That’s so Stranger Things. I love it.” “You never stop working.” Jug complained. “No, they just give me most of the shifts because the other waitresses can’t be bothered.” You shrugged. “How on earth do you have your life in order? School and homework is done, constantly working, family and a great social life. I can hardly balance school, football and music, nevermind all of that.” Archie voiced as you shrugged. “Guess I adapt.” You told him as Jug smile at you. “But, I’m free on Tuesday. Dinner?” You asked the friends as they mostly nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Hey, you in? You left some notes today, Betty asked me to get them to you.

Work J. They important?

They’re on tomorrow’s paper. What time do you finish?

11 - Pep rally tonight. We’re open late.

I’ll come and give them to you.

It’s fine, don’t worry.

3 hours later, no response and there he was. “Jug-” “The papers are in my bag. C'mon, let’s get you home.” He said as you both began the quiet walk, the sounds of birds was all that could be heard. “Can you do me a favour?” “Anything.” “Tell me when you’re working late from now on. Or send me a photo of your rota.” You started laughing and turn to him. “Why on earth would you wanna know?” “Because we have a killer on the loose and I’m sorry if I don’t want my friend to get shot.”

“Three, I’m a big girl. I’ve walked home by myself plenty of times and not been hurt.” You told him as his shoulder brushed yours. “If anything happened to you… Not even if you were shot, I couldn’t live with myself.” He said quietly as you nudged his shoulder. “Hey. Thank you. This is really sweet.” You smiled as him as you continued talking. “How are things going with Betty?” “Honestly,” he said, looking over to you. “The moment passed.” “Seriously?” “Well, she kinda knew I had feelings for someone else.” “Who?” You asked excitedly. “None of your beeswax. Anyway, Archie only broke her heart a few weeks back, she needs more time to heal.” There were a few moments of silence before he blurted out: “Plus her mum’s a psycho.”

You burst out laughing, breaking the small silence as a few birds flew from trees. “Juggie! You can’t just say stuff like that about people.” “Why am I not aloud to state the truth?” He joked as you smiled. The rest of the walk home you talked about typical topics. School, Jason, the Sad Breakfast Club.

“No, because that would make me the douche with the leather gloves.” “You have to be! Because Archie’s the jock, Betty is the mute, Ronnie is the Princess and I’m definitely not that guy. So naturally, I’m the prude goody-two shoes. Therefore, you have to be the glove guy.” You said. “And Cheryl is the teacher we all run away from.” He said as you came up to your drive.

“You wanna come in? I’m pretty sure I could get my dad to drop you home.” “No, it’s fine.” “You sure?” You asked with concern as he smiled up at you fondly and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure. It’s almost midnight, they won’t wanna do that.” “Okay, but text me when you get in.” You told him sternly as he chuckled. “Will do.” “And Three,” you said, bucking up all the courage you could muster as your stomach dropped. “Thanks.” You said, quickly pecking his cheek before turning away so you didn’t have to look him in the eye. “Y-your welcome!” He shouted as you went in the house and let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“What on earth are you on about?” “Okay, so you all know I have a lot of OTP’s,” Veronica started as Betty and Kevin looked between the three of you. “But I have made it my personal mission to make Y/N and Juggie canon.”

“Ummmmm, Ronnie, hate to burst your bubble but really? Me and Three?” “Oh come on, you like him, he likes you. Just get married and have cute kids already.” “Not yet. That’s the last thing we need on our hands right now.” Kevin interjected as you took a sip. “It’s not going to happen.” “Why are you stepping on my dreams like this?!” Ronnie asked as Archie and Jug walked in to Pops. “Hey, what you guys talking about?” “Jug, ask Y/N out.” “What?” “Jughead Jones the Third, so help me God-” “Just ignore her Three. She thinks we’d make a cute couple.” “You would.” “True.” Kevin stated. “We don’t have time to date anyway. I’ve got work, he’s got his novel and the Blue and Gold, we’ve both got school.” You said as Jug climbed over the other booth to come and slide in between you and Betty. “Really? Then why did you kiss his cheek the other day Y/N?” Ronnie asked as your heart dropped. “Yeah, turns out Jug, Archie can’t keep that big a secret when he blurts out that you came in at 12:30 at night. Plus, I did some sleuthing of my own and found out about your little agreement.” Ronnie presented as Betty’s eyes furrowed. “What little agreement?” “It’s nothing, Jug’s forcing me to send him my rota because he thinks I’ll be shot walking home from the late shift. And it wasn’t a secret. I thought it was sweet and gave him a kiss on the cheek. That doesn’t mean we’re now going to confess our undying love for each other.” You told her as an awkward silence set over the table. “Okay, just tell her that you like her.” Archie said as Jugheads eyes went wide but you didn’t notice. “Arch, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but can’t a guy and a girl just be friends. C'mon, me and Jug? It’s too much of a cliché.” You told him and turned to Betty and Veronica. “How was Cheryl during Vixen’s practise?” “Omigod, don’t even get me started-” you let out a sigh, glad you could move on from the subject but felt something coming from Jug. Were you too defensive? I mean, he couldn’t possibly like you back? Or did he think you didn’t think of him that way?

We’ll talk later. You message him, watching him take his phone out and pose no reply but wink at you as if he understood. There was no smirk or smile but he knew you needed to talk. And that was your code. That was enough.

“What’s up?” He said, scrambling through the window ungracefully as he joined you on your bed. You were lying with your head at the bottom and feet near your pillows, something you often did when you were being philosophical.

“Mass confusion.” You voiced as he scoffed, lying on his side and resting his head on his hand as he looked down at you. “About what?” “Us.” You stated simply as he looked down at you.

“Three, tell me you just want to be friends and then we don’t need to have this conversation.” You said gently as he rolled to look at the ceiling. “I can’t Y/N/N.” his voice was no more than a whisper.

“So what are we then?” You asked with a thumping heart as he still wouldn’t meet your eyes; just looking at his face and the way it moved, his beanie sliding off as more messy hair managed to escape. “Whatever you want us to be.” He replied.

“But what if it’s not what you want?” You asked as he laughed. “I don’t get what I want.” “But-” “Your the only person who’s asked that in what feels like forever. I’m used to it Y/N/N.” He met your eyes and you rolled onto your stomach, bringing torso up on your elbows as you looked at him.

“What would Liam do?” You asked him as his eyes shot up. “What?” He asked shocked. “You printed out the blocking of the chapters and accidentally gave it to me with the notes Betty left for me. So in the book, if Eloise and Liam were in this situation,” you turned to look at him where he’d turned on his side again. “What would Liam do?” You asked as he took a moment to think about something. Then his lips were on yours, melting and moulding your mouth against his, which were strangely softer than you’d thought they’d be. It was slow, as if he was savouring it, as if he was trying to make the single kiss last before he pulled back. You still could feel his breath on your face as you opened your eyes.

“He’d do that.” He said, heavily breathing.

“I think Eloise would like that.”

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cupcakeshakesnake · 7 years

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Watching The Husbands of River Song for the first time

(When I started writing the post I messed up my typing and the title said “Watchgin the Husnabds of REierv Sogn for the fitrst time”)

-Oh dear, one episode closer to catching up to the show, and one step clser to a yet unknown source of heartbreak.

tf is this flying dish

Wait, they’re celebrating Christmas in 5343?

-Wow Jesus looks like you’ve really outdone yourself

-TARDIS

-TARDEEEEHS

Why is the music all doom-y and scary like this is something bad That is the best note ever

-HEEEEyyyyy it’s the bald guy from the Series 10 trailer!!

-He looks like he’d be a mouse or a hamster if he was an animal

“Is there anything on my head?”

-YES THERE IS

-OH GOSH

IT’S CONTAGIOUS

-I MUST RUN BEFORE RED CHRISTMAS RUDOLPH ANTLERS SPROUT UP ON MY HEAD

-well hello alien santa under the hood

-RIVEEEEEEER

-WTF

-WHAT THE FAAAAAAAAQ

-wait why is she so pissed-- OHHHHHH

-IT’S BEFORE SHE wait hold on a minute

-This is the first time she’s seeing his twelfth incarnation in-show, yes? No?

-*checks Wikipedia* Yes I’m right but...

-I think I’ll have to watch more before jumping to conclusions

-By the way, this.

A time travelling alien as old as time and also a fluffy grinning cat.

-”My husband is dying.” Doctor: wtf is going on am i about to cross my own timestream or what

-”wtf river”

-Ah yes, flurry snow in the middle of a bajillion cogwheels, brilliant intro.

-Oh shit it’s Moffat

-Poor Twelve must be confused so much.

-River looks like she’s faking though. She’s not the kind of person who coos at people like that.

(unfortunately I could not find a stock photo of a cat looking exactly like this. pity.)

-No, seriously. Look at this cate.

-Anyway who the fuck is that guy in that disproportionately large armor, like, where in the actual sarlacc butthole did he come from

-River Song’s Drama has increased by 100!

-uhhh lemme see I think that’s a mix of Megaman, the old Transformers cartoon and ahh what’s that one videogame I swear there are videogames with people wearing hulky armor like that

-DAMN TWELVE DROPPIN IT

-I don’t even

-I don’t even know what I’m watching

-And yet there’s this lingering fear in the back of my mind that’s still scared of the text “Written by Steven Moffat”

-Wait, if she’s talking to the people in the little screens and they react accordingly to her gestures, then it means they’re watching her too, but where’s the camera?

-Doctor: “the fuck”

-”Do you recognize me?” “No” So the Doctor said no because of something unrelated but I swear a part of him just wanted to get back at River

-HE’S WHITE DIAMOND, GEMS HAVE GENDER, WHITE DIAMOND CONFIR-- nevermind wrong show

-”You’re talking about murdering someone!” “No I’m not, I’m actually murdering someone.”

-”Do you know who you remind me of?” “Yes, probably of a chap with a big-” (he means big chin, don’t get any ideas) “My second wife!”

-The dialogue is top notch in this episode

-Oh no, it’s the robot king who doesn’t look like he can eat his enemies very efficiently and his legion of...

...sword-wielding Jawas.

-Heck, they even sound like Jawas.

-what the effing head

-”I wondered why we didn’t share a bathroom”

-Well for me it explains the nonsense body proportions

-”Decision overruled. Recommendation: Chill.”

-I love how the robot suit says “Chill”, it’s just so.. chill. It’s actually chilling out. It’s the chillest robot in robot history.

I have paused at just the right moment

They’re nerding out together

-Aw the Doctor’s laughing

-He’s having so much fun

-”I haven’t laughed in a long, long time.” There. All the more merrier because of that.

-Oh god

-Okay how many people are River Song gonna hang around with in this episode

-”He only has twelve faces” OHHHHH BECAUSE RIVER DOESN’T KNOW THAT THE TIMELORDS GAVE HIM A NEW REGENERATION CYCLE DOES SHE

‘Little do they know the BBC wanted to continue the show for another fifty years.’

-noooo not the bald guy nuuuuu

-What a cynical robot

-DOCTOR JUST TELL HER THAT IT’S YOUR TARDIS

-Poor Doc

-”Oh yeah I’m SURE I’ll get SOOOO surprised”

-”It’s my girl.”

-The sarcasm is strong with this one.

-”Oh it’s BIGGER on the INSIDE how SURPRISING because I’ve NEVER seen one beFORE”

I’M DYING ASDGSDJSA;;

-”Wait, my Tardis had a fridge?”

-Sooooo when River was with Eleven she was the better driver (in terms of comfort; no offense to Eleven’s Timelording skills in general) but now Twelve is probably the calmest drver so far and River’s, well... not so much.

-”Of course I’m NOT getting frustrated by you doing everything wrong and trying to give you instructions because it’s CLEARLY not my Tardis how can you even SUGGEST such a thing”

-”Yes thank you I am a quick learner and NOTHING else, NOTHING like I’ve flown this Tardis countless times before”

-So if the Tardis can’t take off while someone’s both in and out, then this wouldn’t work, huh.

(From one of the Bunny Suicides books)

-”What sort of medical school did you go to?”

-A king does not unnecessarily endanger the lives of his people... Unless he is cross.

-LOGIC

-OH SHIT THAT GUY’S HEAD GOT CHOPPED OFF TOO

-”Death initiated.”

-The fuck kind of Star Wars cantina did they walk into

-”They’re still digesting their mother.”

-”--I will rip you open and devour you--” “It’s my stomach.”

-Even the guy whose wife got eaten by his kids is going ‘wtf’

-The fuck kind of CGI was that

-”This is where genocide comes to kick back and relax.” Oh boy, that’s gonna get on the Doctor’s nerves.

-”Why are you frowning?” “How’d you know?” “It’s audible.”

-”The man who gave me this was the sort of man who’d know exaclty how a long a diary you’re going to need.” “Oh yeah that’s definitely not me”

-I SAW THAT EYEBROW RAISE, RIVER SONG, YOU CHEEKY LITTLE TIME TRAVELLER

-Annnnd River’s supposed to be paid by a Voldemort with a nose.

-WHAT THE FUCK HIS HEAD OPENS UP

-JEEZ!

-YOU HAVE A JAWBREAKER IN YOUR HEAD??!?

-OH MY FUCKING GOD EVERYONE HAS CRACKED UP HEADS

-For some reason, Credits seems to be the common term for whatever currency is used vaguely in scifi universes. They have Credits in Star Wars too!

-Whoever is playing that pale guy is going to have a royally sore throat by the end of the episode.

-”Hail Hydra”

-You should probably just give him the head...

-To be fair you crackhead guys did creep them out

-The thing.

-Did the head just run away or something, why are the Doctor and River so uneasy, do they really just don’t want to witness a brain surgery or am I missing something here

-Dang it Doctor.

-”The skyyyy shall crrrrrack”

-Well the head is there...

-what. the. fuck. is. happening.

-”At last I am whole again” Well I wouldn’t really call it whole if your body’s a robot but...

-Okay.... that happened.

-*hastily muffled Steven Universy screeching*

-SCREW YOU CATFISH BUG MAN

-Why do his eyebrows make a squeak sound

-”A picnic at Asgard...” MARVEL/DOCTOR WHO CROSSOVER CONFI-- nevermind

-jesus christ why is that guy so intent on reading River’s diary out loud

-’The Angels Take Manhattan’ was three seasons ago. And yes, that episode was written by Moffat too.

-”An infinite number of faces” Well, I wouldn’t say it’s infinite per se...

-Besides, if there’s only the head left, wouldn’t that kind of hinder the regeneration, if not stop it altogether?

-Wait, since when was the robot the king and not the head?

-I don’t like the catfish bug guy with the French mustache. In fact, I am liking him less and less by the second.

-WHOA WAIT THAT ROBOT COULD STORE MULTIPLE HEADS IN IT? I THOUGHT IT JUST TOOK ONE OFF AND PUT ON ANOTHER

-Dammit River why would you want to hurt him like that HE IS RIGHT THERE ;_;

-;_;

-*CRYING EMOJI INTENSIFIES*

-”Two hearts, stupid clothes--” Well the latter changed a bit.

-MOFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

-DAMMIT MOFFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT

-HE IS RIGHT THERE

-DAMMIT MOFFAT

FUCK YOU MOFFAT

-TAKE MY HEART AND RIP IT APART SOME MORE WHY DON’T YOU

-”I’m an archaeologist from the future. I dug you up.”

-DAMN

-”What do you think of my new body” “I’ll let you know, I’ve only seen the face” Okay it’s either me or Moffat that isn’t aware that this is a family show.

-She caught it in her f-cking boobs

-HER BOOBS

-FAMILY SHOW

-”FAMILY SHOW”

-”So, King Hydroflax?” (idk how tf it’s spelled) “I married the diamond!” (”wE ARE THE CRYSTAL--””SHUT UP!!”) “So you say.” “Elizabeth the First.” “Ramone.” “Marilyn Monroe!” “Stephen Fry!” “Cleopatra!” “Same thing!”

-IF YOU HAVEN’T GUESSED ALREADY, I’M DYING

Glowing cables.

-”Crashing spaceships, that’s my job.” I feel like I should write a sentence that rhymes with this, but unfortunately I can’t.

-OH THE TOP PART OF HIS SCREWDRIVER ROTATES

-”I’ve been doing it longer!” “I do it better!” Like how you drive the Tardis, for example. (I can also see the above dialogue used in a very, very, wrong, scenario, but I’ll just keep quiet and hope that it wasn’t Moffat’s intention.)

-river u ok?

-k

Looks like one of those audio equipment machines.

-Reminds me of the ‘Profit’ memes.

-1. Crash ship 2. Look outside 3. FIRE 4. Nope the fuck outta there and travel forward in time 5. ?? 6. Profit

-1. Visit some yet-to-be tour spot 2. Give money to a random guy and tell him to set up a restaurant 3. Travel forward in time 4. ??? 5. Profit

-River why aren’t you closing the Tardis door

-THE GOD DAMN BOT

-Oh look Nardole’s alive too

-”Now that, my dear, is a suit.” Gotta agree.

HOLE-LEE SHEE-EHT

-THAT’S THE SCREWDRIVER FROM ‘SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY’

-THAT WAS SEASON FOUR

-MOFFAT

-YOU’VE CONSTRUCTED A PLOT STRING THAT SPANS FIVE SEASONS YOU BIG ASSHOLE GENIUS SPIDER

(Screencap of webpage http://www.chakoteya.net/DoctorWho/30-9.htm)

-HOLY FLUKES HOW DARE YOU

-”Are you crying?”

-i-- yes yes i am blame moffat not me

-”There are stories about us, you know.” “Oh, I dread to think.” Been looking around AO3, have you River?

-m o f f a t y o u m o t h e r f u c k e r

-asdflsdhglljfhslhHSAHG

-ASJDAFLHGLASDJHGFALSDF

-sglsdhgflWEGyglhsghsgFLH;;1 LDG lJHGJLHAGLJhglhgljhglhHS DFHS5134 GLHFGLSDHFGh 454123gshdHFJHgjGSJDFL

-$^B&C%TB#%*&#BWKUWURH#$VB&*#B*:#V:B&*$&*B#&VBBBEYBYEBYFF

Moffat you deceitful fuck, I won’t trust you until the very end

-But thank you for sparing us from saying goodbye to her face

You forgot to say ‘forever’

-Please just let them stay together happily for those 24 years

HA I spelled it right

-Overall one of the best Christmas specials in my personal opinion, and top-notch acting by Capaldi. Really, top, notch.

#watching for the first time #doctor who #dw series 9 #the husbands of river song #twelfth doctor #river song #peter capaldi #alex kingston #doctor who christmas special #reaction #review #whovian #long post #nardole #moffat #fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck #king hydroflax

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drtanstravels · 6 years

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Anna and I came to a conclusion recently — She needs to relax more and take more holidays. Yes, we do go on a lot of trips and we have plenty coming up this year, but it is almost entirely for her work so she doesn’t really get to take a break. When we went to Thailand and a resort in Indonesia recently, she was a completely different person and got to unwind properly for the first time in about a year. We did go to Turkey late last year, but it was on the tail-end of a conference that Anna had put in a lot of work for, plus it was an extremely hectic trip anyway, hardly any time for relaxation. That’s why we decided to take part in the world’s largest annual human migration and get away at Chinese New Year this year; it’s a relatively quiet time for her at the Eye Centre as few people in Singapore want to have surgery done during this period and the timing of Chinese New Year meant that Monday, February fourth was a half-day public holiday, while the fifth and sixth were full days off. We wanted to go somewhere neither of us had been before and initially considered Taiwan, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to go there during Chinese New Year as everything would be closed and we kind of wanted to escape the stress of being in a Chinese environment during those celebrations, because constant drums, chanting, and fires aren’t conducive to a relaxing weekend. Instead, we opted for Sri Lanka, a place neither of us really knew a whole lot about. My knowledge of Sri Lanka was limited to what was shown when singer Kamahl did advertisements for teabags in Australia and the fact that their cricket team was abysmal when I was growing up. Well, here are the basics on Sri Lanka:

Sri Lanka is an island country in South Asia, located in the Indian Ocean to the southwest of the Bay of Bengal and to the southeast of the Arabian Sea. The island is historically and culturally intertwined with the Indian subcontinent, but is geographically separated from the Indian subcontinent by the Gulf of Mannar and the Palk Strait. The legislative capital, Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, is a suburb of the commercial capital and largest city, Colombo.

Sri Lanka was known from the beginning of British colonial rule as Ceylon. A nationalist political movement arose in the country in the early 20th century to obtain political independence, which was granted in 1948; the country became a republic and adopted its current name in 1972.

The island is home to many cultures, languages and ethnicities. The majority of the population is from the Sinhalese ethnicity, while a large minority of Tamils have also played an influential role in the island’s history. Moors, Burghers, Malays, Chinese, and the indigenous Vedda are also established groups on the island.

‘Colombo,’ not ‘Columbo’

Sounds like it could be an interesting place to spend a few days so the plan was to fly out on Friday evening and stay the night in Colombo, catch a train to Galle and spend Saturday and Sunday night in the Fort area there, meeting up with our Australian friends from Singapore, Tom Cargill and Leonie Brown, whom it happened would be in the same place at the same time, and then come back for a final night in Colombo before flying out very early Wednesday morning. There was, however, the issue that I had had an epileptic seizure a few days prior to leaving that would require me to get my head stitched up in hospital, but wasn’t expected to put our trip in any jeopardy. Let’s see if all went to plan.

Friday, February 1, 2019 Anna finished work early on Friday afternoon so we packed, took Kermit to the dog hotel, and then got a cab to the airport. Our flight was at 7:30pm and it would take three-and-a-half hours to touch down in Colombo, however, Sri Lanka is two-and-a-half hours behind Singapore so it was barely 9:00pm by the time we landed. Getting through immigration wasn’t too much of an issue, although I did get a few sideways glances from officers because of my rather impressive black eye, but we were soon through the gate and one thing became abundantly clear; A lot of people landing at Bandaranaike International Airport must purchase fridges on impulse! Sure, there was the regular duty free store selling alcohol, cigarettes, perfume, and the usual stuff that you encounter in any international airport, but this was surrounded by endless shops selling duty free white-goods — refrigerators, washers, dryers, ovens, vacuum cleaners, and everything else any complete home requires were all available and all tax-free at any of the countless electronics and homewares stores in the arrivals area. I think Harvey Norman may have to rethink their business model, I’m not kidding, there are tons of these stores so they must be selling something, take a look around for yourself:

Anna looking a little confused

Just a couple of the stores

Looking from the standard duty free section

Even more

We managed to resist the urge to pick up a reasonably priced chest freezer and walked down to the taxi rank. Initially we thought that maybe we should’ve requested a hotel transfer, but we had nothing to worry about, getting a taxi without getting ripped off wasn’t a problem as there was a fixed-priced taxi counter. Now onto our home for almost the next 24 hours, Colombo:

Colombo is the commercial capital and largest city of Sri Lanka. According to the Brookings Institution, Colombo metropolitan area has a population of 5.6 million, and 752,993 in the city proper. It is the financial centre of the island and a popular tourist destination. It is located on the west coast of the island and adjacent to the Greater Colombo area which includes Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, the legislative capital of Sri Lanka and Dehiwala-Mount Lavinia. Colombo is often referred to as the capital since Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte is within the urban area of, and a suburb of, Colombo. It is also the administrative capital of the Western Province and the district capital of Colombo District. Colombo is a busy and vibrant place with a mixture of modern life and colonial buildings and ruins. It was the legislative capital of Sri Lanka until 1982.

Due to its large harbour and its strategic position along the East-West sea trade routes, Colombo was known to ancient traders 2,000 years ago. It was made the capital of the island when Sri Lanka was ceded to the British Empire in 1815, and its status as capital was retained when the nation became independent in 1948. In 1978, when administrative functions were moved to Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte, Colombo was designated as the commercial capital of Sri Lanka.

To make matters even better, we were staying at the legendary Galle Face Hotel. Just have a click around that website and you’ll see why we were excited to be staying there or if you’re too lazy, just read a portion of what Wikipedia has to say about our humble abode for the night:

The Galle Face Hotel, founded in Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1864, is one of the oldest hotels east of Suez. It is listed as one of the “1000 Places to See Before You Die” in the book of the same name.

Celebrity guests include Mahatma Gandhi; the first man in space, Yuri Gagarin; John D. Rockefeller; former British Prime minister Edward Heath; Princess Alexandra of Denmark; Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh; First Prime Minister of India Jawaharlal Nehru; Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India; journalist Eric Ellis and photographer Palani Mohan; future British RAF officer and MI6 agent F. W. Winterbotham; Prince Sadruddhin Aga Khan; then-Prince Hirohito of Japan; Roger Moore; Carrie Fisher; Richard Nixon, US President; Lord Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma; Noël Coward, English playwright, composer, director, actor and singer; Josip Broz Tito, Marshal of Yugoslavia. In January 2018 Prince Edward and the Countess of Wessex stayed at the hotel during their five day official visit.

I guess I can now name two hotels in which Richard Nixon has stayed. Anyway, once we had arrived we checked into our room and then went down to King of the Mambo, a Cuban-themed bar and restaurant within the hotel, right on the water. We pulled up a seat, ordered a couple of drinks and just started chatting while a Latin band played in the background when, before long, a couple on the next table, an Italian man and an Indian woman, must’ve overheard us say something about Singapore and asked if we were “Jacu’s friends.” It turned out that they both live in Singapore too and knew someone there whose friends were also traveling to Sri Lanka this weekend as well. We told them that we were from Singapore, but didn’t know a Jacu. I later had a look at Facebook and saw that there were comments on my friend’s page tagging me as traveling to Colombo, as well as another couple. This particular friend doesn’t use his real name on Facebook and I thought that maybe I had just forgotten his name as he is someone I only know from the pub so I showed his photo to the couple on the next table. “Yes, that’s Jacu!” they replied, so we settled in, ordered some food and got chatting with them. Not only did we have the mutual friend we knew of, but it turned out that the Indian girl, Adita, also went to university and is friends with one of Anna’s best friends, Roshini. To quote the comedian Steven Wright, “It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.” Here’s a look around our room in the Galle Face Hotel and King of the Mambo that night, although we didn’t get one our new drinking buddies:

Looking toward our bed

looking away from it

toward our bathroom

Out our window

Getting a bit rough on the way to the bar

Part of the view of King of the Mambo from our table

Looking along the shore

Inside the bar

Another area

Part of the skyline in the background

Saturday, February 2, 2019 We were still operating on Singapore time so we were up pretty early by our holiday standards. One thing that we didn’t realise was that Sri Lankan National Day, or Independence Day, also happened to fall during our trip, being celebrated on the Monday so there were thousands of soldiers rehearsing for the National Day parade when we left the hotel in the morning. Our plan for Saturday was to catch a train down to Galle, however, first-class trains only departed at around 6:30am, which wasn’t an option for us. Instead, we could get an express train at 3:50pm, but we would only be able to get either second or third class tickets with unreserved seating. You’re probably thinking, “Oh, poor Tim and Anna, can’t get first class tickets, boo-hoo,” but anyone who has ever caught public transport anywhere on the Indian subcontinent would understand that even first class could be deceptive in definition, second class with unreserved seating could mean absolutely anything, and third class with unreserved seating may possibly resemble something like this:

Still, we had a few hours to kill so we hit the street, taking in some of the military rehearsals along the way. We began walking toward the centre of town along Colombo-Galle Main Rd. when we were almost immediately approached by a very well-dressed, albeit extremely sweaty, local man who burst into a power-walk to catch up to us. Sri Lanka is famous for its gemstones and this dodgy guy insisted on taking us to a gemstone museum and then a shop afterward. We’re used to dealing with scammers overseas so we made it clear that we weren’t interested and that’s when the bullshit began. “Today is National Day so nothing else will be open anyway, as you can see by the parade on the beach.” We explained to him that we were more than aware that National Day was on Monday, the shops were clearly open, and that the parade on the beach was a rehearsal, but he wasn’t deterred. “I work at your hotel, what sort of representative would I be if I didn’t show you the best of Colombo?” We then pointed out that it was one of his alleged coworkers that told us about the rehearsals and he wasn’t dressed like any of them, but still he insisted we see the gemstone museum, going on and on about it as we sped up, him struggling to keep pace. It was finally when he called over a tuk tuk for us and told the driver where to take us that we both finally snapped, telling him that we saw through his bullshit and that we were doing something somewhere else. He kept talking, but soon realised he wasn’t getting anywhere, muttered something under his breath, and walked away. We were expecting to meet hustlers like this after the time we’ve spent in India and the first person we encountered on the streets of Colombo was exactly that, but fortunately we wouldn’t meet too many more.

We continued exploring, but everyone we know that has been to Sri Lanka told us beforehand that there wasn’t a whole lot to do or see in Colombo, just tons of construction, and Galle was where the real action was. Still, we had a look around, grabbed a decent lunch, and then soon we had to head back to the hotel to grab our luggage in order to catch our train. A look around our hotel and the surrounding area of Colombo:

A panoramic view from our balcony

Inside the lobby of the Galle Face Hotel

Our doorman about to let us out

Looking across the road

The parade rehearsals from a distance

Part of the exterior of the Galle Face Hotel

Part of where we had spent the previous night

More of the parade action on the beach

The local police station

A building that seems to be missing a roof and some walls

One of many construction sites

A cool mural on a building on our way to lunch

These photos may not paint a particularly beautiful picture of Colombo, but it is really nice, just the area we stayed on that first night may have been a little less aesthetically pleasing. After lunch we walked back to the hotel, got our luggage and checked out, and then we were on our way to the train station. The train station wasn’t far away, but we had to get there about an hour early in order to get halfway-decent tickets for our two-and-a-half hour journey to Galle. Anna read online that if we wanted to get a seat on the train, it was best to go to the first station on the trainline, but the concierge at our hotel said it was too far out of the way and we only needed to go to the nearest station. We got our first tuk tuk in Sri Lanka, negotiated a decent price due to the fare metre still being sealed in its original packaging, and rode in our three-wheeled deathmobile, weaving recklessly through traffic, all the way to the station. Anyone that has ever ridden in a tuk tuk before knows that you never feel all that safe in one and that’s not including the time a tuk tuk driver in Pondicherry, India (the vehicle called an “auto” there) made a piss-poor attempt at kidnapping me! These things are completely unstable, you’re not secured into the vehicle in any way, the drivers just throw caution to the wind, and in some countries they’ll do anything to screw you over to make an extra buck or two. Only some of them in Sri Lanka have a fare metre, but they are never used so you just have to haggle first and fortunately we never had any drivers try to scam us. Tuk tuks are the cheapest, and sometimes only, option, but all the ones we encountered on this trip could be trusted. We soon arrived at the train station and I watched the bags while Anna bought our tickets and then we walked down to platform 5 where our train would eventually be arriving. We managed to get second class tickets with unreserved seating, which meant that the process for getting a seat was first in, first served when entering the carriage, however, our carriage would have ceiling fans. When we saw a train arriving on another platform, we realised exactly what this meant; the carriages in both classes were extremely crowded with people getting on and off while the train was still moving, others just hanging out of the doors as the only convenient place to stand in third class. After we saw this, I decided to ask someone on our platform where to board the second class carriage. I approached a friendly-looking young woman, only for her to let out a little scream and grab her handbag. Train stations around the globe are generally seedy areas so I guess when a female is approached by a rather large man with a black eye and facial stitches, she needs to be on her guard. I apologised, explained our situation, and she advised us to wait in the middle of the platform, as that is where the second class carriages would most likely be.

Our train soon arrived and we boarded, and although I wasn’t expecting complimentary champagne, we were also unable to get a seat despite how proactive we were, instead relegated to standing in the centre of the carriage, the end nearest to us only having two of the seven ceiling fans operating. Initially the carriage was overcrowded, people even sitting in the open doorway, legs hanging outside the train. There were handles hanging from bars from the ceiling, but it was easier for me to hold the bar, Anna grabbing a handle, and we were soon on our way. Sri Lanka is infinitely cleaner than India, but as we were departing we crossed a river that could almost be tasted as we passed, the horrendous stench of raw sewerage hanging in the air. None of the locals really reacted to fragrant aroma of human waste, but almost every foreigner on the train instantly gagged. I’ve also heard awful rumours about the toilets on trains in this part of the world, essentially just a seat with a hole that drops turds directly onto the tracks, the room ending up ankle deep in human waste. How much truth there is to those stories can really be neither confirmed nor denied for me, but we both decided it was best to clench for the next couple of hours and take in the scenery. Any photos from inside the train were captured as it was still moving, the view almost always obstructed by another passenger’s arm gripping a handle or pole:

In a tuk tuk en route to the station (note the sealed metre)

Looking down at Anna on our platform, early for our train

Inside the station

An earlier train that would resemble ours

Not sure what class this is, but it looks like it’s going to a concentration camp!

Our train has finally arrived

A gentle reminder not to rub your nuts on seated passengers

Looking one way up our carriage at a worried-looking European tourist

And we’re off!

The other way down our carriage

This guy sat like this for the bulk of the journey

Crossing the festering river

Some of the scenery out of the door was beautiful

Some not so much

Going behind some houses

Location, location, location

You also shouldn’t rub your nuts on standing passengers

Trying my best to blend in while onboard

That bar was a little dirty

Finally made it to our destination

Our ride only stopped four or five times en route to Galle, but for the last ten minutes or so enough people had exited the train so Anna could have a seat and I could sit on the table in front of her.

Me with some of our dinner

Once we arrived in Galle we took a tuk tuk to our hotel, The Bungalow in Galle Fort, and by that time it was already about 7:00pm so we decided to hit the town. The first plan of attack; get some hoppers. Hoppers are kind of like a bowl-shaped pancake made from fermented rice flour and coconut milk, generally eaten with curry and sambol. Not long after we had walked out the door and around the corner, we stumbled upon a small store simply called Hoppa so we pulled up a seat and ordered what we had come for. We got some egg hoppers and cheese hoppers, as well as some curried prawns and black curry pork and Anna later ordered some dessert hoppers that came with treacle. To be honest, I could happily eat hoppers for every meal daily, but I don’t know how my waistline would handle it. After dinner we walked down to the Old Dutch Hospital, one of the oldest buildings in Galle, dating back to the 17th century Dutch occupation of Sri Lanka when the building actually functioned as a hospital. Now it serves as a shopping and dining precinct so we sat down in a bar, ordered some drinks and a shisha, but it wasn’t going to be a long night as it turns out most, if not all, bars in this town shut at 11:00pm, even on a Saturday. Oh well, it had been a packed day so we really weren’t complaining.

This concludes the first part of our Sri Lankan adventure, stay tuned for the second half when we spend more time wandering around Galle and getting into a couple of weird situations before returning to Colombo again for a final night.

Chinese New Year in Sri Lanka, pt.1: Colombo to Galle Anna and I came to a conclusion recently -- She needs to relax more and take more holidays.

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thejustinmarshall · 6 years

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The 80s Cruise Omnibus: The Like, OMG, Totally Awesome Recap.

This is a part of our full coverage of the 2018 80s Cruise. Read more about the floating music festival here.

Guitar picks are the holy grail for many concertgoers, but Robin Legat was able to score one recently from Lou Gramm guitarist, Michael Staertow, under the oddest of circumstances. The 43-year-old fitness trainer from Los Angeles didn’t have to scramble over chairs for the keepsake, she got it by wearing bumble bee colored spandex and gifting Staerlow something very unexpected.

The Legats (center) as Stryper.

Legat was part of a foursome dressed like the 80s Christian rock band, Stryper, as a part of “Glam Rock” night on The 80s Cruise. The 2200 passengers on board the Celebrity Summit were encouraged to wear costumes for each of the six theme nights. Legat and her husband, Michael, rarely disappointed. They were clad from head to toe in spandex and scarves and passed out little keychain bibles throughout the night.

As she tells it, during Gramm’s performance, “our entire group was sitting together in the sixth row. (Staertow) and I made eye contact, and he mouthed ‘Stryper?’ to me.” She nodded and when she ran into him later that night, gifted him one of the bibles. He gave her several of the coveted picks in return.

So goes life on board The 80s Cruise. Every year, Entertainment Cruise Productions (ECP) brings together fans from all over the world to celebrate the music and pop culture of their youth. The 2018 Cruise took place from March 17-24th and featured bands with one thing in common – their music is synonymous with the decade that blinded us with science and took our breath away.

The lineup consisted of Gramm, Loverboy, Mike + the Mechanics, The Tubes, Billy Ocean, Berlin, Thomas Dolby, Katrina (of Katrina and the Waves), Tommy Heath (of Tommy Tutone), and cruise host, Rick Springfield. This was the first time ECP has booked a big-name act to anchor various events throughout the week with Springfield playing extra shows and introducing various events.

Guests were thrilled with the concerts they saw during the week. Maryland native Dave August had a clear favorite saying, “Lou Gramm was the runaway winner. (His) voice was spectacular (and) the crowd was pumped.” Legat offered a simple explanation for Gramm’s popularity amongst guests. “90 minutes of nonstop hits and he didn’t even get to everything!”

Deane Draper wore a spot on Quay Lewd costume on the 80s Cruise. Photo by Chuck Coverly

It was hard for some people to pick one favorite show. Betsey Fellwock, from Tulsa, OK, couldn’t decide, so she listed her favorites, “Loverboy, Lou Gramm, Billy Ocean, Tommy Tutone,” Tim Kelley insisted, “I’ll give two answers” before explaining that Lou Gramm had the best overall performance, but stagemanship went to The Tubes. The Asheville office manager added, “Berlin sounds better than they did in the 80s.” Steven Sciglimpaglia of Stamford, CT liked Thomas Dolby, Berlin, and The Tubes.

Sciglimpaglia appreciated the sheer weirdness of The Tubes, but they scandalized a few passengers who weren’t sure what to make of their unconventional stage show. Most passengers only knew of them from their MTV-friendly videos, “She’s a Beauty” and “Talk to Ya Later.” It came as a surprise when, near the end of the show, lead singer Fee Waybill changed into glam rocker Quay Lewd and starting drinking from a giant bottle of what looked like scotch shoved into the crotch of his silver spandex pants. John Clark from Dallas enjoyed the spectacle saying, “The Tubes should do a comedy act! They crack me up!”

The Tubes brand of humor seemed to appeal to a certain type of music fan, but Leskanich had pretty much everyone giggling during a question and answer session with Terri Nunn of Berlin and Jenna O’Gara of Jessie’s Girl. The “Walking on Sunshine” singer infused each reply with deadpan humor, often mocking the ridiculousness of the situation. When she was performing, each show felt like individual episodes of “Storytellers.” Like Berlin in 2017, Leskanich may not have been familiar to most outside of her one big hit, but she quickly endured herself to passengers, making her one of the favorite acts of the week.

Berlin’s second stint on board proved to be as successful as the first with passengers flocking to various events hosted by the band. A wine tasting with lead singer Terri Nunn sold out well in advance of the sailing and a group Q&A was standing room only. Drummer Christopher Olivas emceed two wildly popular poolside dance parties under his alias, DJ Christopher J. Longtime fans were thrilled to have John Crawford and David Diamond, both of whom founded the band with Nunn, perform in both main stage shows.

Bryan Do as “Long Duk Dong”. Photo by TuKe Photography

For Claudine Edwards of Plano, TX, just being able to see Berlin again felt like a miracle. Edwards discovered she had stage IV breast cancer following a car accident last October. A bleak prognosis made the 2018 Cruise seem like an impossibility. When radiation treatments made her incapable of eating and her hair falling out in clumps, she turned to an old favorite to help her cope. Berlin’s “Hideaway”, from Count Three and Pray, assured her it was okay to, “cry away there’s no harm.” She said, “I cried a lot and listed a lot to that song about hiding away.”

She found out she was in remission a month before sailing. Still in pain, she and her husband, Jason, arrived in Ft. Lauderdale thrilled to see friends and excited about heading back to the 80s. Each day made her feel more like her old self and she got the chance to tell John Crawford how much his song had meant to her. She said afterwards that the Cruise made her feel better for the first time since her diagnosis. She felt that, “the 80s and all of my friends lifted me up, made me stronger!”

Edwards’ opportunity to speak to Crawford highlighted one of the many things that made the Cruise so special to guests. Being able to interact with their idols through organized events was exciting, but it was the casual conversations that happened around the ship that passengers savored most. Mina Credeur from Spring, TX. said her favorite moment was hanging out in the martini bar with the two lead singers from Mike + the Mechanics, Andrew Roachford and Tim Howar.

Mike + the Mechanics were on board as a part of a small American tour to support their latest album, Let Me Fly. The last time the band was out on tour was three years ago with no plans to tour again this year, fans were lucky to catch them. They were on board for a short time, but their 90-minute set was excellent, thanks largely to Credeur’s drinking companions.

Big name acts were the obvious draw for passengers, but there wasn’t a shortage of other talent on board. Crowds were excited to see their favorite cover bands, Jessie’s Girl and Trial by Fire, back for another year. Jessie’s Girl had their own fan club that refused to miss any shows. Trial by Fire had a bigger presence this year after a very successful debut on the 2017 sailing. The two bands complimented each other with Trial by Fire providing a more traditional rock vibe while Jessie’s Girl attacked the top 40 with style and flair.

Things got a little weird on St. Patrick’s Day. Gus and Wendy Molony on The 80s Cruise.

Jessie’s Girl’s shows featured dozens of costume changes, but they couldn’t compare with the 80s cosplay going on each night. Passengers spent all year planning what they would wear for each theme and the results were pretty incredible. The entire ship was clad in green for the St. Patrick’s Day departure with Aqua Net and lamé ruling Prom. The amount of spandex roaming around for the Glam Rock theme was almost intimidating, but the one evening that brought out the most elaborate costumes was Pop Icon night.

Passageways were quiet in the late afternoon as guests returned to the cabins to transform into a variety of different pop culture icons. Soon the hallways were filled with rock stars, movie characters, and all sorts of odd 80s references. Weird Al, ZZ Top, and David Lee Roth wandered by the martini bar while Jason Vorhees and Elvira looked through the previous day’s pictures in the Photo Gallery. King Tut had a crew that followed him around all night walking like Egyptians. There were at least two sets of Blue Brothers and more Ghostbusters than you could shake a gallon of ectoplasm at. Two human-sized Smurfs sat in the balcony while Terri Nunn sang “Highway to Hell” to a Yip Yip.

The costumes caused more than a few laugh out loud moments for the musicians on board. Mike Reno of Loverboy smiled and pointed at several clones wearing his trademark headband during one show, but Bryan Do’s “Long Duk Dong” costume forced him to stop singing to take a moment and stop laughing. Do had not only nailed the outfit from Sixteen Candles, but included a blow up “sexy American girlfriend” that he carried around all night on a set of disembodied handlebars.

Mike Reno tries to silence Jay Lewis on the 80s Cruise.

Reno had a great week on board the Summit. Not only did Loverboy put on two energetic shows on the main stage, but the singer also jumped in on several performances with other artists throughout the week. Jay Lewis from Kiawah, SC was having so much fun singing along to Loverboy’s set that Reno had to walk over and Lewis’s mouth with his hand.

Loverboy wasn’t the only act Lewis found himself singing with during the week. Rick Springfield held a microphone out to him during, “Don’t Talk to Strangers,” and was a part of a crew invited up on stage to sing with Heath. He and his friends wore t-shirts that spelled out the title of Tommy Tutone’s 1981 hit, “867-5309.” After spending so much time singing along with celebrities, Lewis joked, “If I knew they expected me to also perform I would have never quit taking those piano lessons from Sister Mary Francis when I was nine.”

Heath did several solo shows during the week in addition to jamming with Jessie’s Girl and Rick Springfield during their performances. When he wasn’t on stage, the singer spent his time socializing with guests and posing for a ton of selfies. But despite patiently standing for one picture after another, the award for “Most Selfies of the Week” went to Springfield.

Springfield was the main draw for the hundreds of passengers who booked through his fan club before the last Cruise left port. Their enthusiasm was contagious, but it could also be exhausting to other guests who struggled to get into venues. As Legat explained, it was frustrating “not being able to get remotely close at any of the Rick Springfield piano bar shows because people would hold seats for hours!”

Rick Springfield gets this a lot. Shelley Meier and Rick Springfield on the 80s Cruise.

Springfield himself was affable and engaging, despite the chaos that seemed to surround him. During the main stage shows, he leapt into the audience while performing 1983’s “Human Touch”. He climbed over chairs and stopped for selfies as he traveled up and down the center section.

The “famous-person selfie” ruled the day during Billy Ocean’s concerts as well. The singer hopped on board in Jamaica for two flawless sets during which he would routinely reach down to shake hands and take pictures. He left the cruise immediately after the second show, much to the dismay of Ziva Gottesman. The San Diego native was hoping for either a meet and greet or Q&A with Ocean lamenting, “some artists aren’t on the ship long enough to do either which is a shame.”

Question and answer sessions were popular with guests, but the most surprising turned out to be the one that featured Thomas Dolby. He was familiar as the musician behind one of the instantly recognizable “She Blinded Me With Science,” but the audience for his Q&A discovered the 1982 single was just one small accomplishments in a career that has included the creation of a groundbreaking software company, directing an award-winning documentary short, and revolutionize electronic music. As if all of that wasn’t enough, Dolby explained to the crowd that his latest job is as the head of the Music for New Media program at Johns Hopkins University.

Dolby’s two sets in the 400-seat Revelations lounge at the top of the ship were amazing, despite many guests having to miss the last two songs of each. The biggest complaint with the Cruise was the conflicts caused by poor scheduling. Fellwock hated “having to leave shows to get the 9 p.m. concert.” She wasn’t alone. Dolby and Leskanich played all of their shows in Revelations with either 7:45 or 9 p.m. start times, which always conflicted with the main stage shows. The timing meant passengers never had a chance to see a full show in Revelations.

Dave August had a whole week of David Lee Roth costumes on the 80s Cruise. Photo by Chuck Coverly

It was infuriating having to choose, particularly for Michelle Tower whose two favorite acts were Dolby and Leskanich. Like everyone else holding cards for the late show, the IT Director from Cincinnati never got to hear “Walking on Sunshine” or “She Blinded Me With Science” because those were the songs at the end of the setlists. Guests had to be in the Celebrity Theater by 9 p.m. or lose their seats and have to take whatever was available in the back of the third tier.

But despite the aggravation of having to miss shows and activities due to scheduling conflicts, just about everyone said the 80s Cruises were the best vacations they had ever taken. Some passengers cited the bands as the best part of the week, some loved the decorations and feeling like they had actually traveled back in time, but for most, it was something they could never find on another vacation.

Sometimes you should meet your heroes. John Crawford and Claudine Edwards on the 80s Cruise

The bands and costumes were what initially sold the cabins, but the what brought people back after the 2016 and 2017 sailings – and will bring even more back next year – were the people that traveled back to the 80s with them. Time and time again, people said the single best thing about the Cruise was, as Amanda Olivas put it, “All of the friends we have made in the past two years!” Texan Kathy Machacek agreed that it was “the friendliness of the other guests” that made the planning and expense worthwhile. Curtis Wayne Lanclos summed it up saying, “enjoying 80s culture together is what makes it all more enjoyable!”

Olivas, Machacek, and Lanclos will be joining Edwards on the 2019 Cruise. “Yes, I will be back,” she said. “Cancer didn’t take me in 2010 and it certainly isn’t going to take me now. I have the 80s to live out again each year with our amazing friends!”

LJ Moskowitz is a photographer and writer based out of New Jersey specializing in concert, product and fine art photography. She is a member of the National Press Photographers Association (NPPA) and Professional Photographers of America (PPA). You can find her at Shutterchick Photography, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

All photos appearing on this page are the property of LJ Moskowitz. They are protected by U.S. Copyright Laws and are not to be downloaded or reproduced in any way without the written permission of LJ Moskowitz. Copyright 2018 LJ Moskowitz. All Rights Reserved.

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mrmichaelmbarnes · 7 years

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Book Briefs #29

"Book Briefs" are an ongoing series of posts with two- or three-sentence first-hand descriptions of some of the numerous books that make their way into my library. These briefs are not full-blown reviews, but they are a way to share more books worthy of attention than can find their way into reviews on this blog. Ellen Kooi Above Rotterdam: One Glass Tower by Wiel Arets & Nine Situations by Katrien Van den Brande edited by John Bezold | Actar | 2016 | Amazon

Wiel Arets Architects' B' Tower is the subject of this book, which is unlike any other architectural case study. A collaboration between Arets and artists Ellen Kooi and Katrien Van den Brande, the book presents glimpses into the tower's units through Kooi's photographs and Van den Brande's stories. I was drawn primarily to the photos. Although obviously staged, the images reveal scenarios that activate the modern and often bare spaces of the five apartments portrayed. Ironically both the photos and the poetic words between the apartment spreads embody a way of thinking and interacting with the surroundings that is so much more artistic than the mundane, day-to-day lives often depicted in photos and writings about buildings. Figures in Stone: Architectural Sculpture in New York City by Robert Arthur King | W. W. Norton | 2017 | Amazon In a trailer to the documentary short Stonefaced, architect and educator Robert King describes modern buildings as "faceless." This phrase refers to the lack of detail in boxes covered with glass and metal, but it can also be taken more literally, since modern buildings are not adorned with the carved animal and human faces that King is enamored with. When I try to recall a relatively recent visage on a building, all that comes to mind is Charles Moore's Piazza d'Italia, where the architect himself spews water into the basin. But on King's turf, New York City, I come up with nothing. We must go back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries to find such representations and King has done just that, producing two books in the process – Faces in Stone and Animals in Stone – that are collected for the first time in a single volume. The figures take center stage in large photos – usually one to a page – but the book also includes small photos of the buildings they adorn, addresses, subway information, and helpful maps. With all this extra information, readers can venture out to see in person the faces that often go overlooked but which King has carefully trained his camera on.

MIT: The Campus Guide by Douglass Shand-Tucci | Princeton Architectural Press | 2016 | Amazon My first, and so far only, trip to Boston was about five years ago. Although I made it to Harvard's campus, I didn't have the time to visit MIT, which is home to a number of notable modern and contemporary buildings, such as Aalto's dormitory, Saarinen's chapel, and another dormitory, by Steven Holl. As much as I like to visit a place with an architectural guide, I'm not sure this one would have made the ideal companion at MIT, even if it were around at the time. At 400 pages, it is a hefty guide, split into two halves: eight "portals" that paints a historical portrait of MIT, and eight "walks" that highlight different areas of MIT's campus on the left bank of the Charles. The second half – the true guide – is as verbose as the first half, with one walk consisting of basically standing in one point on a bridge and getting an overview of campus. The merits of the book include some beautiful photographs and a map, the latter of which visitors can carry around in lieu of the heavy book that is better suited to reading before taking a trip to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Thinking the Contemporary Landscape edited by Christophe Girot, Dora Imhof | Princeton Architectural Press | 2016 | Amazon Last year, when I wrote a forthcoming book on modern landscape design, one of the most helpful resources was Christophe Girot's The Course of Landscape Architecture, a large-format book that covered the subject from prehistory to the present. Though not exhaustive, Girot's critical takes on the projects in the book got me excited for this collection of essays edited by the Swiss landscape architect and professor with art historian Dora Imhof. The seventeen essays, composed into three sections (landscape reframed, landscape composed, landscape rethought), "look at the profession of landscape architecture as it reacts to new challenges posed by both societal and environmental change and considers new fields of action." It does this with some heavy-hitting contributors: James Corner, Adriaan Geuze, Girot himself, David Leatherbarrow, Saskia Sassen, Charles Waldheim, Kongjian Yu, and numerous others. It's a diverse collection that is deep and thought-provoking but will also, as the editors admit, "raise more questions than it will bring answers." Transmaterial Next: A Catalog of Materials That Redefine Our Future by Blaine Brownell | Princeton Architectural Press | 2017 | Amazon

Most books that collect multiples of certain things, such as buildings, partition them into chapters defined by typology or some other characteristic. That applies even more to a catalog such as this fourth Transmaterial book by architect Blaine Brownell. Here the chapters are material categories: concrete, metal, glass, digital, and so forth. But the small tabs on the edge of the cover hint at two more layers of definition. On the right side are such qualities as interfacial, intelligent, repurposed, and transformational, while on the left side are three broad categories: material, product, and process. Each of the more than 100 entries is defined by one of each, so readers can hone in on certain applications or qualities and find them fairly easily. Nevertheless, I can't help but continue to think that information in the Transmaterial books (previously I reviewed Transmaterial and Transmaterial 2) would be better in digital form – where entries can be cross referenced and changes made more easily – rather than in printed matter.

Wright Sites: A Guide to Frank Lloyd Wright Public Places edited by Joel Hoglund | Princeton Architectural Press | 2017, Fourth Edition | Amazon 2017 is the 150th anniversary of Frank Lloyd Wright's birth, which is being celebrated with exhibitions, publications, and other events. It's as good a time as any, then, to release the fourth edition of Wright Sites, which features 71 built projects open to the public in the United States and Japan. Most numerous, obviously, are the US buildings (all but three of them), which are organized alphabetically by state. The buildings are documented with photos, descriptive text, addresses, contact information, and details of public access. Six suggested itineraries at the back of the book are especially helpful for people planning trips to visit multiple Wright buildings. For those interested in a more comprehensive view of Wright's oeuvre, the fourth edition of William Allin Storrer's indispensable Complete Catalog will be released in June, but Hoglund's slimmer Wright Sites is handy for carrying around to the relatively small number of Wright buildings open to the public. from A Daily Dose of Architecture http://ift.tt/2qoo1X0

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brendagilliam2 · 7 years

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23 designers and their awesome tattoos

Whether it’s an ultimate homage to a favourite artist’s work or is motivated by something deeply personal, many creatives don’t stop at their first tattoo. And there’s one thing upon which the vast majority of designers we’ve spoken to agree: respect the artistic flair of the person with the needle – they’re called tattoo artists for a reason.

And we’re inspired by them too, using tattoo fonts and or checking out other inspiring tattoo designs and amazing watercolor tattoo art. So have a look at these awesome tattoos, and find out who was the artist behind them.

01. Gordon Bonnar

Gordon Bonnar’s geometric leg owl may yet expand into a sleeve

Senior digital designer at RRDCreative in Edinburgh, Gordon Bonnar already had a number of tats before deciding he wanted a leg tattoo with the potential of developing it in to a leg sleeve. “I wanted something that reflected wisdom and guarding,” he tells us. “I liked the idea of an owl, so my tattoo artist worked up a geometric owl design.”

Tattoo artist: Ellis Philip, Dagren Tattoo, Dunfermline

02. Douwe Beckmann

Douwe’s minimal design is a tribute to his late father

Online communication specialist Douwe Beckmann got this clean and simple tattoo to commemorate his father, who passed away on 5 May 2015. “It might not be a very large tattoo,” he says, “but it has all the elements I wanted in a simple, single line: a scar, Roman numbers and the specific date (5-5-15 or in this case V V XV).”

Tattoo artist: Dragon Tales Tattoo, Landgraaf, The Netherlands

03. Ryan Carson

Ryan Carson’s tattoo is designed in honour of his wife

“The tattoo is for my wife, Gillian,” explains Ryan Carson, web designer, entrepreneur and CEO of Treehouse. Colorado-born Carson recently moved back to the States from Bath, England, where he’d lived with his wife for many years. “The lion and unicorn are from the British passport and the teacup symbolises England, as she’s from St. Helens, UK,” he adds.

Tattoo artist: Kirsten Holliday, Portland, Oregon

04. Steven Bonner

Steven Bonner wanted something timeless featuring birds and skulls. Sorted!

“I wanted something timeless,” says designer and illustrator Steven Bonner of his impressive tattoo. “So I chose two things that have consistently appealed to me all my life: birds and skulls. I like black and grey, and trusted my tattoo artist to do something great, as he’s a brilliant illustrator with a great style. Done in around 10 hours.”

Tattoo artist: Marcus, Custom Inc, Glasgow

05. James Oconnell

James Oconnell drew his own Japanese-inspired design on his arm

After admiring the fine detail in the Hokusai Great Wave at an exhibition, James Oconnell decided to get an oriental sleeve tattoo. “The whole idea is to make the elements big so they can be recognised from a distance, so I decided to go for a couple of lilies surrounded by those famous waves and a couple of koi carp,” he explains. The artist drew straight onto his arm with a pen for an hour before the inking began – and the work took around 35 hours in total.

Tattoo artist: Danny Rossiter, Studio 81, Manchester, UK

06. Dustin Hostetler

Dustin Hostetler’s arrow-based tattoos are bang on target

After graduating from high school, illustrator, artist, curator and publisher Dustin Hostetler opted to get a colour wheel tattooed on his wrist to represent his commitment to the arts. “As my life moved forward as a graphic designer, getting arrows tattooed made perfect sense,” he suggests. “To me, the arrow is the perfect representation of a distilled graphic design image. For the most part, I’ve basically just said, ‘Draw me some arrows, and fit them on my body’, and they do it.”

Tattoo artists:

Mike Giant, San Francisco, USA

JK5, Daredevil Tattoo, New York, USA

07. Elizabeth Carey Smith

Carey Smith’s typographic tats are uneconomical but look great

Over the years, graphic designer and typographer Carey Smith has covered her body with 26 tiny letters: “I didn’t start off thinking I’d get the whole alphabet,” she admits. “I got the first one (j) on a whim, then the next few (g, a, q) without thinking much about it.” It grew from there: every time she drew a letter frequently, it was inked onto her. “It’s the most uneconomical way of getting tattooed ever,” she smiles. “You pay by the hour, and these little letters take about seven minutes each.”

Tattoo artist: Stephanie Tamez, New York Adorned, New York, USA

08. Ryan Sievert

Tattoos run in the family for Ryan Sievert

Before he was old enough to get tattooed, designer, illustrator and photographer Ryan Sievert opted for piercings instead: “That was the best thing I could have done,” he believes. “By the time I was old enough to get any work done, I knew I was too picky to settle on a tattoo that wouldn’t make me cringe later on.” He and his younger sister got matching tattoos, based on how they settled fights when they were younger – and most of his others also have family ties of some description.

Tattoo artists:

Typographic tattoos: Chito, Revolution Tattoo, Chicago, USA

Flowers and bird: Tim Biedron, Pioneer Tattoo, Chicago, USA

Next page: 8 more awesome designers’ tattoos

09. Carson Brown

Donnie Darko formed the inspiration for one of Carson Brown’s tattoos

A fan of simple, graphic tattoos, freelance designer and photographer Carson Brown started with a circle: “I wanted a reminder of how to live that wasn’t type, and didn’t have significant cultural meaning,” he explains. “I wanted to get the triangular void after watching Donnie Darko. I love that movie.”

Although he has no regrets, Brown does get a lot of people asking if he likes Pacman. “The triangle feels a little unfinished; I’d like to add more to the back of my arm,” he adds.

Tattoo artist: Dav at Love, Michigan, USA

10. Chuck Anderson

Forget about meaning; Chuck Anderson’s tattoos are all about the aesthetics

Rather than attaching overly deep meaning to his tattoos, creative director Chuck Anderson has more of an aesthetic attraction: “I just love black-and-grey tattooing,” he shrugs. His right arm sleeve is a montage of natural imagery, such as orchids, mountains, clouds and birds. The left arm includes his wife’s name, ‘Holly Giovanna’; a pair of cherubs; and a small ‘NP’ for NoPattern. “In some case I came with an exact plan, but for the big stuff I let the artists take my general idea, and do what they wanted,” he explains.

Tattoo artists:

Right forearm to wrist: David Allen, Chicago, USA

Lines and birds on right arm: Rich Kocis, Peace of Art Tattoo, Chicago, USA

Mountains/clouds/birds up to shoulder: Kore Flatmo, PluraBella, Cincinnati, USA

11. Gavin Strange

Boats and bikes inspired Gavin Strange’s calf tattoo

It’s no surprise that Gavin Strange‘s calf tattoo reflects his self-confessed obsession with bikes: “The ship wheel represents both being by the water here in beautiful Bristol, and riding bicycles in general,” explains the senior designer at Aardman Digital.

His friend, accomplished tattoo illustrator Ollie Munden, designed it following a late-night iChat – and also crafted a pair of Mexican sugar skulls for the tops of his feet. ��Most of my tattoos are hidden, and I thought, what better place to have a surprising bit of ink than on top of my feet?” grins Strange.

Tattoo artists:

Justin Cota, Mantra Tattoo Studio, Cheltenham, UK

12. Jessica Hische and Russ Maschmeyer

Jessica and Russ’ matching tattoos come in RGB and CMYK

Before Facebook designer Maschmeyer met freelance letterer and illustrator Hische, he was considering an RGB tattoo. “I convinced him it would be ‘conceptually stronger’ if I got the CMYK version of the same tattoo,” says Hische. “He was a little freaked out about having a couple’s tattoo, but the more we talked about it the more it made sense. Russ got additive colour (RGB) since his career passions were primarily screen-based; I got subtractive colour (CMY) because I started my career in print design.”

Tattoo artist: Virgina Elwood, NYC Adorned, New York

13. Brian Carley

Brian Carley likes to leave the details up to the tattoo artist

Executive creative director Carley‘s first tattoo was inspired by the artist Dave McKean, who used to create the cover art for the comic book series Sandman. “I’m a bit of a nerd,” he shrugs. The Saatchi & Saatchi creative director prefers to give the man with the needle relative free rein: “I’m not a tattoo artist: I don’t understand all the idiosyncrasies of the art form, so I don’t assume that I know what’s best,” he reasons. “I’m confident that the artist I’m paying will do the best job possible.”

Tattoo artist: Three Kings Tattoo, Brooklyn, New York, USA

14. Jon Contino

Here’s the second spouse-inspired tattoo in our collection

“I wanted to get a classic pin-up style image of my wife on my forearm, but I didn’t want it to look exactly like her,” remembers creative director and freelance illustrator Jon Contino. “I thought it would be weird if we were out with friends or family and I had a giant, photo-realistic portrait of my wife within eyeshot.”

His solution was to use a reference shot from an odd angle, stripping back some detail to make the portrait more generic. The inking process took about one and a half hours in total.

Tattoo artist: Mohawk John, Three Kings, Brooklyn, New York, USA

15. 45rpm

And here’s the second one inspired by bicycles

45rpm, a Bristol-based artist and illustrator and member of the WHAT crew, believes that ‘traditional’ tattoos have the most timeless appeal, and prefers to let the artist interpret an idea in their own style.

“Marcos at Broad Street Studio tattooed my bike-based piece. I said I wanted a penny farthing; he drew an amazing design,” he recalls. “It’s like collecting art from great artists, except you get to see it all day, every day. Each piece of ink reminds me of a good chapter in my stupid existence. No regrets.”

Tattoo artist:

Marcos Attwood, Broad Street Studio, Bath, UK

The Black Lodge, Portishead, UK

Mark Cross, East River Tattoo, Brooklyn, USA

16. Rick Nunn

This ampersand was Rick Nunn’s first tattoo…

“I was always going to get tattooed; it was just a case of deciding what I wanted,” begins freelance photographer and designer Rick Nunn. “After making that first step, the ampersand, the floodgates opened.” Most of his tattoos have been a two-way collaboration with the artist – he’ll often pitch a concept with a few doodles, and then bounce ideas back and forth.

“I really like the feeling of being tattooed – it’s kinda Zen,” he adds. “That and being left with a permanent work of art on your skin.”

Tattoo artist: Mitch Allenden, Inspirations, Leeds, UK

…but not his last.

Next page: More inspiring tattoo designs

17. Sara Blake

Sara Blake didn’t plan loads of tattoos, but things got out of hand

“I never intended on being a very tattooed person,” smiles freelance illustrator Sara Blake, who’s now pretty comprehensively covered. “I started with a small one on my shoulder, and it grew from there. I like things you have to suffer for in order to earn.”

Blake has forged an artistic relationship with Steve Boltz at Smith Street Studio, having some earlier tattoos removed since working with him. “His brief is pretty simple: I give him a body part, an animal subject matter and the rest is up to him,” she shrugs.

Tattoo artist: Steve Boltz, Smith Street Tattoo, Brooklyn, New York, USA

18. Alan Wardle

Alan’s magpies represent his favourite soccer team

Newcastle-born, London-based designer Alan Wardle is now on his second tattoo, and believes each one should have a bit of meaning behind it: “Being a North East lad, I wanted something to represent the area, the people and the memories that made me who I am today,” he explains. “Magpies are the nickname of the football team I grew up supporting, and I had to have two because of the nursery rhyme. Couldn’t have one, and bring sorrow on myself.”

Tattoo artist: Mitch Allenden, Inspirations, Leeds, UK

19. Suffoca Boyce

Suffoca Boyce knows what time it is

“A lot of artists get tattoos for the same reason: they enjoy art, and being expressive with it,” suggests Suffoca Boyce, founder of Suffoca Clothing. “Where better to reflect your life stories and interests than on your own skin?” Once he found an artist who shared his wavelength, he gave her free rein to interpret the brief.

“My woman piece took three sittings,” Boyce recalls. “I really enjoy the whole process of getting tattooed; it still makes me nervous beforehand, but I feel like I’ve accomplished something great after.”

Tattoo artist: Valerie Vargas, Frith Street Tattoo, Soho, London, UK

20. Jeffrey Kalmikoff

Jeffrey Kalmikoff’s tats took a total of 36 hours to complete

Jeffrey Kalmikoff, head of product and design at Betable, has a winged hourglass on each upper arm inspired by the Latin phrase ‘Memento Mori’ (remember death). “One is full, with big feathered wings; the other empty with tattered, broken wings,” he explains.

The scenes below are inspired by a line from William Cullen Bryant’s poem, Thanatopsis – ‘All that breathe, will share thy destiny’ – and are intended to be a macabre way of stressing the importance of making the most of the time you have. The two arms took around 36 hours in total.

Tattoo artist: Tim Biedron, Deluxe Tattoo, Chicago, USA (but now at Pioneer Tattoo)

21. Joshua Smith

Joshua Smith isn’t too bothered about his tattoo typo

Illustrator and designer Joshua Smith is influenced by tattoo culture, particularly from the 70s and 80s, when they were taboo – and he believes that they may become so again, with current ‘trends’ becoming ugly and dated. His own ink is more individual than that: “I decided to get my kids’ names, and also the word ‘Piety’,” he recalls. “I ended up misspelling it as ‘Peity’, but the meaning of the word is the ‘pursuit of perfection’, so there’s extra meaning added,” he shrugs. “Mistakes add something epic to life.”

Tattoo artists:

Script tattoo: BJ Betts, Orlando, USA

Skull, snakes and roses on lower arm: Angelo, Red Letter, Tampa, Florida, USA

Top of hand: Big Sleeps, Norm Will Rise, LA, USA

Fingers: Ghost Wolf, LA, USA

22. Matt Booth

Matt’s sleeves stem from a lifetime’s fascination with tattoos

Web designer and Flash developer Matt Booth was fascinated by tattoos from an early age – as a child in the 70s, he once embarrassed his mother by telling a man off on the bus for drawing on himself. As an adult, Booth opted for a full Japanese-style sleeve that took six four-hour sessions, with two weeks’ healing time in between. “I like where it cuts off at my wrist; so much so, that I haven’t worn a watch since having it done six years ago,” he chuckles.

Tattoo artist: Louis Malloy, Middleton Tattoo Studio, Manchester, UK

23. Nigel Dennis

Memento’s tattoo-focused story kicked off Nigel Dennis’ collection

Tattoos, for designer and illustrator Nigel Dennis, are a permanent record of temporary feelings and states of mind. After getting his first tattoo on an impulse, and partly inspired by the movie Memento, he hasn’t looked back – and gets “the itch” every few months to get another. “It’s really addictive,” he insists, and has had six or seven different artists work on him to-date. “One of the pieces was inspired by John Dyer Baizley’s work,” he explains. “I love his band, and I love his art.”

Tattoo artist: “Six or seven different artists.”

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