#andrew taylor

[antoniettabrandeisova]

Andrew Taylor (Australian, born 1967) Outside: Coyote Alley, c. 2011. oil on linen

[dozydawn]

“Ian Rogers is Australia's only chess grandmaster. Yesterday he was playing four opponents at the same time, with his eyes bandaged and his back to them. Only his wife's voice told him what the other players were doing but he defeated them all. June 28, 1989.”

Photographed by Andrew Taylor.

[babsi-and-stella]

Marianne Faithfull photographed by Andrew Taylor in October 1996.

[makhonkit]

From Cubicles to Coconut Trees : A Retiree's Journey from the USA to Malaysia

A little over a year ago, one of my good friends, Jean Hew, told me that she have been watching this very interesting expat who's posting about his life on YouTube and he happens to be showcasing some houses around my area. Which means, he lives just nearby!

I checked out his videos and his voice is angelic, it's super calming like Frederic Chopin's Andante Cantabile. I emailed him, and introduced myself, the formal and traditional way, as he's not very active on Instagram back then and we quickly became good friends, and neighbors since he just lives across the street.

In this episode of In The Spotlight, I'm truly honored to be featuring my very good friend Andrew Taylor (  @andrewtaylor4558  ) to share with us his story and experiences of navigating and living in Malaysia as an American Expat, and how social media, particularly YouTube, have changed his life for the better. Do check out his YouTube Channel too. It's super interesting. I bet you'll be hooked!

Be sure to like, comment, and most importantly share if you find this podcast useful. Thank you very much and advance and Enjoy the Show!

00:00 Intro 00:47 About  @andrewtaylor4558   01:25 Anchor Point 02:05 Angelic Voice 02:34 How Did You Get Started? 04:20 What Inspired You? 05:28 How Did Andrew Taylor and Ray Mak became Friends? 08:55 VESPA and How Do You Get Around? 11:10 Is This Something That You've Always Been Passionate About? 13:24 Recording and Video Editing Process 14:32 Challenges of Being A Content Creator 19:12 Turning Point, Viral Moment 23:44 Income and Sponsorships 26:38 Burnouts and Stresses 28:14 Words Of Wisdom

About In The Spotlight

I have been a content creator for almost two decades now as I've had the privilege to have started when all these platforms started. Over the years, I've made many great friends and have also enjoyed the many blessings from the Internet.

In The Spotlight is a Platform where my amazing content creators friends share their precious experiences so we can all learn together as well. I really hope you like it too.

Last but not least, special thanks to my good friend  @KevinChanBazi  ( http://www.youtube.com/kevinchanbazi ) for being the catalyst, push, idea and brains behind In The Spotlight.

PS : Special thanks to Jean Hew for showing me Andrew Taylor's videos.

This podcast was recorded with the amazing new BOYALINK - All-In-One Design Wireless Microphone System from  @BOYA-mic  . They are so sleek and easy to use!

#inthespotlight #creator #contentcreator

Follow  @andrewtaylor4558   YouTube : https://www.youtube.com/@andrewtaylor4558

Talk to me : 🎵 Instagram ▸ http://instagram.com/makhonkit 🎵 Facebook ▸ http://facebook.com/raymakpiano 🎵 Twitter ▸ http://twitter.com/makhonkit

[captainmoonlite]

i am being so so normal rn*

*thinking about the way both cat and marwood are the children of fifth monarchists. the way that both end up tied to and having to care for older men whose minds are worn down by both age and time spent in prison. the way those same men become more extreme and show more hateful views towards women as time passes. the way both cat and elizabeth cromwell have absentee fathers who missed most of their adolescence and fled the country for entirely different reasons. the way neither of them found the place or trust to find what they had in common because they were too occupied keeping secrets and trying to protect themselves and their loved ones. the way that the recent wars and the religious/political divide they created has continued to linger and affects so many elements of so many people's lives

[dradny]

new poems published in 'International Times'

Thanks, as ever, to Rupert Loydell for publishing two poems in International Times. 'Bureau' was published in August and is here and 'Satellites' is here.

[wherekizzialives]

March Reads

No reading challenges this month unless you count being so unwell for most of the first two weeks I wasn’t really capable of reading anything as a challenge. But I have still found the time to finish some books and thoroughly enjoy them, so I shouldn’t really complain too much. I’m still working my way through the fantasy books I didn’t manage to finish during February and have finished another…

[preacherman316]

How To Stress Less #5

How To Stress Less #5

http://433507 © Andrew Taylor | Dreamstime.com “The truth is that stress doesn’t come from your boss, your kids, your spouse, traffic jams, health challenges, or other circumstances. It comes from your thoughts about your circumstances,” opines Andrew Bernstein, author of “The Myth of Stress.” While you may find that assertion unsettling, exaggerated, or inaccurate, stay with me. (more…)

[fleuraimer]

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

[antoniettabrandeisova]

Andrew Taylor (Australian, born 1967)

Outside: Lake Balboa 9, c. 2011.

oil on linen

[myteavsricochet]

what a great year for queer cinema 💛

(middle pic from NY times)

[sailorsally]

The fact that Billie Eilish named her cat Misha bc of Misha Collins & wrote 'You should see me in a crown' inspired by BBC Sherlock. She is thee moment & the moment is 2012 Tumblr.

[smsggsts]

(1993) James Bond 007: The Duel

masterful use of these few channels

track 04 is pure bops

this is the thing that stops a bit short of truly "funky" but it has that sort of ENERGY still. good stuff

[makhonkit]

Malaysian has over 400,000 Subscribers! Meet Ray Mak!

Thank you so much Andrew Taylor. I'm super honored!!! Such a great chat too!! Watch until The End to check out my shooting studio and also my Favorite Malaysian Food EVER!

[marcogiovenale]

otoliths #65 is now live

otoliths #65 is now live

Issue sixty-five of OTOLITHS, the southern autumn 2022 issue, is now up. This issue, which marks the beginning of the seventeenth year of the journal’s existence, contains a mix of — sometimes mixed — photographs, paintings, short stories, poetry, interviews, magazine columns, & manifestos from an international contributor list including Karl Kempton, Linda King, Mark Pirie, Dario Zumkeller, AG…

[tinglingpeter]

Fellow Travelers All of Us Strangers Red White & Royal Blue