#but I'm kidding myself if I think I can do delayed gratification like that

[hephaestuscrew]

It's so important to me that Minkowski and Eiffel and Hera spend December 25th together to celebrate Eiffel's birthday post-canon. And the hope that they spend that day together is a sentiment shared by Gabriel Urbina.

But Minkowski canonically cares about Christmas itself. Minkowski has people in her life whom she could spend Christmas with. And so there will probably have to be a difficult conversation at some point after the Hephaestus crew return to Earth, when someone says how good it will be to have Renée there for Christmas Day again. And Minkowski will have to look at her husband, or her relatives, or her in-laws - people who loved her and mourned her and celebrated upon her return from the dead - and she'll have to tell them that she won't be there on Christmas Day. And if the person who asks knows her at all, they'll see the look on her face and know that there's no negotiating to be done here.

It's not exactly that she doesn't want to celebrate Christmas with the people she used to celebrate Christmas with. But she can do that on any day near the end of December. Spending December 25th with Eiffel and Hera is something she absolutely cannot compromise on. 

The main reason she'd give for this is that December 25th is Eiffel's birthday. Whether or not it matters to him as much as it used to, Minkowski wants Eiffel's birthday to get the recognition it deserves, because it was so important to him and he never expected anyone else to care or remember.

A second reason - one she might never speak aloud - is that she's always thought that Christmas is a time for family, and nowadays that means that spending it with Eiffel and Hera feels right to her.

But I think there's a third, perhaps equally important, reason underneath those two. Maybe she doesn't admit it to herself consciously, but I think part of Minkowski believes that the only people who can really understand the complicated way she now feels about December 25th are the two people who were there with her when everything went to hell on Christmas Day.

It was December 25th when they realised they'd made contact with aliens, and when Hilbert locked Minkowski outside the airlock and tried to incapacitate Eiffel and tore out Hera's personality hardware, and when everything Minkowski had thought she knew about the Hephaestus mission fell apart.

How can she exchange gifts with people for whom it isn't the anniversary of the one of the worst days of their life? How can she gather round a Christmas tree with people who've never feared for their lives at the hands of Alexander Hilbert and Goddard Futuristics? How can she eat turkey and trimmings with people who weren't there when the Christmas dinner was never eaten because there was a murderous mutiny from one of the intended guests? How can she spend December 25th with people for whom it's never been a day of betrayal and fear and loss and uncertainty eight lightyears away from Earth?

Eiffel doesn't remember that awful Christmas and that brings its own kind of pain for Minkowski. But he was there, and so was Hera, and so (no matter what anyone else expects) Minkowski needs to be with them on that complicated day.

[wrenegadeone]

Hi wren! I was hoping for some advice if it isnt too much trouble?? I am over 350lbs and I'm just watching myself get bigger and its scaring the crap out of me. Idk where to start. Its like. I plan on eating better/exercising the next day and when i wake up I'm like "well one day wont fix it so i guess I'll wait another day!" and i do this. Every. Damn. Day. I dont have discipline whatsoever. I am slowly getting rid of "bad food" but its doesnt seem to be helping. What did you do to become motivated/disciplined? I'm only asking because idk anyone else i can talk to. Every time i mention my fears with my family they push for wls and I'm too scared for that. I feel very lost rn. I just want to be healthier. I have no one to talk to about it. I want to bring it up in therapy but I'm too afraid to. Any advice would be appreciated. If its oo much don't worry about it, i understand. Take care ❤

Hi anon! I’m sorry for the delay!

Honestly weight loss surgery doesn’t fix anything if you’re not mentally ready so whether or not you get it is entirely dependent on how you feel about your ability to control your impulses.

I don’t think it’s a good choice if you feel you’re already struggling and you don’t WANT it... if you get the surgery you pretty much have to have a liquid diet for a while and then when it introduces food again there’s technically no restrictions and if you haven’t learned healthy habits already it’s not gonna be as successful and will still be difficult.

I signed up for Noom recently because I’m actually trying to kick some bad habits that I had picked back up again. The most consistent thing I have to remind myself that I need to be good to myself... you have to treat yourself like a stubborn pet that needs consistency and discipline.... right now it’s like if you had a small kid in your head telling you I wanna eat this I want to do that I don’t want to do this and instead of being the parent and taking care of the child by enforcing healthy habits, you’re letting the child run the show.  you’re letting yourself be disrespected by your impulses. 

Instead of seeing it as of today, tomorrow, the next day in regards to being healthy and better habits you should maybe you think about it like a math equation. How many good things can you add together to make a great day that you feel proud of yourself for? How many good things can you add up to make sure that it’s neutral and that you’re not disappointed in yourself? How many bad habits does it take before that negative number is ruining your mood for the rest of the day or week because you are disappointed or feeling guilty at yourself?  A lot of the habits and things you do now may be for immediate gratification but they also are harmful to you not just physically but mentally whenever you start to reprimand yourself and mentally beat yourself up later.

Be good to yourself and remember that nobody else knows what works best for you, only you can find that out

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Three

Thank you guys for your patience, if I haven't been replying its because I haven't been getting on tumblr for a hot minute but I am back now!!

This is part 1 of 2 of Seventy-Three, part 2 will be up in tomorrow night.

I love y'all, thank you so much!!

Words: 4.8k

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, violence, inappropriate sexual behavior

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“I am going to kill you!” I shout, chasing Stevie and Slash over the hotel beds with Duff eventually tackling me when they lock themselves into the bathroom.

“You’re the one who ate the brownies, Viv! It’s common sense not to do that!” Steven tells me from the other side of the door.

“Your ass is grass and I’m going to mow it!” I yell back.

“No one’s mowing ass!” Duff tells me. “We’re just gonna wait for it to pass." He says in reference to my inevitable high.

“I’m gonna puke.” I insist, pushing him off of me.

“D-Do you feel sick?” He asks me, worried, and I open the door of the bathroom, Steven and Slash peeking their heads out of the shower from behind the curtain.

“No, I’m gonna make myself throw up so I don’t trip balls.” I explain.

“Ew.” Slash mumbles.

“Viv, no, it won’t be that bad.” Steven assures me as I kneel over the toilet, and Duff pulls me up.

“It’s not like it’s gonna kill you, Viv, alright, just stay in the room and let it run its course. Don’t do that to yourself.” He tells me, motioning to the toilet and I raise my brows.

“Just go lay down and relax.” Slash adds.

“Fine.” I state, stepping out of the bathroom.

"So, you've got this handled." Stevie starts to Duff. 

"Yeah?"

"We're going back down to the bar." Steven declares, pulling Slash to the door with him. 

"Dude, what? They were your brownies." Duff tells him. 

"That she ate without asking." Steven points out. 

"I was hungry!"

"Then you go to McDonalds! You don't eat brownies you find in our room!" Steven replies. 

"Alright, okay, you two go. I got this." Duff sighs. 

"Thank you. Bye." He replies and they leave us, Duff shutting the door behind them as I lay down, getting under the covers and turning the TV on, Looney Tunes playing as Duff steps to the bed.

"You can go back downstairs, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't even feel anything." I mumble and he looks at me, pointedly. 

"No, I'm staying." He states, taking his jacket and boots off, getting in to bed with me, sitting up against the headboard as I lay my head in his lap.

A few minutes later, I'm getting out from under the covers because it's rubbing against my skin too hard.

"You okay?" Duff asks me when I go to pull my shirt over my head. 

"My freaking skin hurts." I reply and he raises his brows. 

"It's the brownies."

"It's not the brownies." I reply, suddenly freezing when I make eye contact with Daffy Duck, catching him staring at me through the TV, and feel feathers against my fingers. 

"What're you doing?" Duff asks me and I realize I'm rubbing my finger tips together on both hands, and when I look at him, another realization comes to mind. 

"If you combine 'Daffy' and 'Duck' you get 'Duffy'." I tell him and he raises a brow. 

"Y-Yeah?"

"Or 'Dack'. I feel like this is a perfect time for you to tell me my favorite joke." I tell him and he raises his brows. "'Paint my house'." I mock his voice, giggles consuming me once I'm done and he laughs with me.

"Viv--"

"--I'm kinda hungry."

"You ate five brownies, babe." He reminds me.

"Pot brownies don't count as food." I state, reaching for the phone. "I'm getting room service." 

"No, no," he stops me, chuckling, grabbing the phone from me. "You do not want to get food while you're high and hungry. You'll order stuff you've never even heard of and we'll be murdered for running up the bill."

"We can just get Doc to pay for it." I shrug, going for the phone in his hand. 

"Which is why it's not a good idea." He explains.

"If he gets his panties in a wad over room service he can just eat a brownie and he'll feel fine." I snatch the phone from him and dart for the bathroom.

"Vivian, baby!" He calls, opening the bathroom door before I can close it but it's too late, I'm dialing the number for room service, swatting Duff's hand away, though the movement seems as if it's delayed--at least my vision is delayed, or my mind, I don't know.

"Hello?" The man on the other line picks up and I furrow my brows, the fear that he knows I'm high infiltrating my mind. "Hello?" He repeats and I hang up and drop the phone. 

"What if he tells my parents?" I ask myself, trying to stay calm as anxiety rises.

"W-What?" Duff asks me, confused.

"Dad will kill me. Mom--oh, God, mom will never let me live it down." I push past him to pace in the room and he furrows his brows. 

"Viv--"

"--How do I even begin to explain to my parents I'm on drugs. Does pot even count as a drug? It's natural--so is fucking arsenic but do you see anybody putting that shit in brownies?" I ask myself. "I'm going to hell." I conclude, tears coming to my eyes. "I'm going to hell." I repeat, my voice cracking. 

"Viv, you ate them on accident, you're not going to hell for accidentally getting high." 

"I want Nikki." I say next, my heart beat beginning to hammer.

"If he finds out you're like this, we could get in trouble, Viv." Duff tells me.

"I want Nikki." I repeat, my breathing getting more frantic.

I stare at Fred, Doc, and Rich Fischer...and Bob Timmons, rolling my jaw as they look at me pointedly, waiting for me to say something in response. Anything.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Doc finally asks me and I lick my lips.

“What the hell am I supposed to say, Doc?” I ask him, furrowing my brows a little. “I-I’ve tried to talk to him about it a million times the past three years and he refuses to acknowledge he has an issue.” I state.

“Because he feels like he’s got nothing to lose.” Doc informs me. “I know you two aren’t on good terms, anyway, but, Vivian, we can’t have one of our guys nearly falling out on stage on smack. That’s not good press.”

“Since when the hell do we care about good or bad press?” I laugh humorlessly.

“Since I don’t want Nikki to fucking die on this tour.” Doc snaps.

“Can’t make money off tickets if the bassist dies and there’s no band to tour, anymore, right?” I ask him, poking my lip out sarcastically for a moment and he glares at me.

“I’m not in it for money.” Fred cuts in, seriously, a genuine look of worry on his face. “He’s like a brother to me. I’m not fucking in it for the money. I just don’t wanna see him dead.”

“We’re already getting a divorce so what the hell is it gonna do to threaten divorce if he doesn’t stop shooting up?” I ask them, raising my brows.

“I promise, it’ll get his attention.” Fred assures me.

“Do you know something that I don’t?” I cut my eyes at him. “Because all I’ve heard is how ready he is to get away from me and be free.”

“Just talk to him.” Fred ignores my question, which confirms that whatever shit Nikki feeds me about wanting to leave me as soon as possible is all bark with no bite behind it.

“What’s in it for me?” I ask them.

“The gratification of knowing you’re doing what Jesus would do.” Doc sarcastically replies.

“Jesus would exorcise him.” I bite back.

“I promise we haven’t ruled that option out yet.” He sighs out.

That was the first of many “what’re we going to do about Nikki?” meetings on that tour. Nikki had gone on high as hell--thinking no one noticed--and nearly passed out after flipping down the stage and taking way too long to get back up, and when he did get up, he nearly fell off the stage and could barely keep his eyes open. They had to remedy his stupor with a few bumps of coke during Tommy’s drum solo.

He got up in arms if anyone tried to confront him about it, brushing it off like he was just really tired that night, so they called me up to bat.

I guess they forgot I couldn’t talk to him about anything without it turning into a fight--especially not about his heroin addiction.

"So, even though we're separated and he's your client, you're leaving it up to me to convince him to get sober?" I clarify. 

"He's not doing himself any favors, Vivian, you know that. This isn't just affecting your marriage." Doc tells me. 

"Um, yeah, I've been trying to tell you that for years now but the second it turns into him risking the loss of money going in to your pockets you're all about getting him some fucking help." I snap, standing up. "Thank you for confirming you're the piece of shit I was afraid you were." 

"Vivian, wai--"

"--Go fuck yourself, Doc. You're lucky I don't fucking fire you." 

I leave the meeting with Fred at my heels. 

"Viv, wait." He grasps at my wrist and turns me to face him, making me flare my nostrils with frustration. 

"I'm not talking to him, Fred."

"Vivian, he's more likely to listen to you than any of us."

"Are you kidding me?! He'll laugh in my face!" I give up and raise my voice, hoping it'll get my point across since they seem to not understand english when it's spoken calmly and quietly. 

"Viv, just try it. Just once. Please." He begs.

"Fine."

I already felt like it was my job to fix him, and having that responsibility of being the only one capable of getting Nikki to slow down only added to that burden that I knew right away I'd be unable to bear but tried to do so anyway.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I was locked out of mine and my husband's room. I accidentally left the key in there before I left and he doesn't have his with him, either." I tell the receptionist at the front desk of the hotel.

"Do you have any ID?" She asks me and I pull out my license, smiling.

"Here you go." I show her. "Vivian and Nikki Sixx, but the room name is probably under Doc McGhee." I add and she flips through bookings for a moment before she nods. 

"Got it." She tells me, opening a drawer and pulling a spare out. 

"Thank you." I tell her politely, taking the key and heading to the elevator. 

"Enjoy your night." She replies. 

"Thanks, you too." I grin to myself mischievously, ready to piss on Nikki's parade. 

I get up to his room and unlock the door, smelling sweaty clothes, vomit, possibly urine, definite shit, semen, smoke, heroin, and coke.

"Ew." I mumble, seeing that he is nowhere to be found. 

I immediately start shuffling through his things, every pant pocket, every compartment in his suitcase, under the bed, in the drawers, under the mattress, in the pillow cases, in the bathroom, the closet, under the dresser, under the TV stand, the night stand, behind the bed, behind wall paintings, everywhere, and find absolutely nothing. 

"You've got to be kidding me." I say to myself, looking at the disheveled room. "If I were Nikki Sixx where would I hide my stash?" I say next…an idea popping into my mind. "The last thing I'd think anyone would suspect I would even touch." I answer myself, going back to the nightstand drawer, opening it back up to see a bible.

I open it and find the jackpot. 

I don't know where he found the time to hollow it out and put a baggie of china white and a small bindle of coke inside but I don't have time to think about it. 

"Really should have taken the expensive stuff with you, baby." I state, taking the china white out and pouring the powder into the toilet before throwing the baggie away, doing the same with the coke. 

I go to fix everything the way I found it but I'm stopped by the sound of the door knob being unlocked. 

I dodge into the closet, shutting the door as best as I can, hearing the room door swing open, and the sound of Nikki stumbling in, laughing while another woman giggles, making my heart hammer in my chest. 

"What's wrong?" I hear her giggling come to an abrupt stop. 

"I don't feel good, take a rain check." He brushes her off, and I hear him walk around the room, probably noticing it looks like a tornado hit it, worse than how he left it. 

"I thought we were gonna have some fun, though." I hear the pout in her voice.

"I'm sure Vinnie would take you up on that. He's across the hall." He sounds even more disinterested by the second, aggravation in his tone, but I don't believe it's because her. 

"Fucking rockstars." She complains, stomping out and slamming the door. 

"I can smell your perfume from here, Viv." He says, and I hear him kick some stuff out of his way before the sound of him sitting on the bed. 

I roll my eyes and step out of the closet, smiling at him innocently. 

"What the fuck are you doing in here? How'd you even fucking get it?" 

"I got a key." I inform him. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks again and I go to speak but can't, not knowing what lie to come up with.

I hesitate for too long, giving him too much time to think about it.

"Oh, you didn't." He sneers, before quickly walking to the nightstand, opening the drawer and grabbing the bible before he opens it to see it's empty. "God damnit, Vivian!" 

By this time I'm already almost at the door, within arms reach, but he's rushing to me and grabbing my hair, pulling me back, causing me to cry out before he's shoving me to the bed. 

"Where did you put it?!" He demands and I take deep breaths, staring at him. 

"I flushed it." I admit honestly and his face turns red, his fist balling up at his sides. 

"You did what?" He shakily asks again and I sit up.

"I. Flushed. It." I repeat. 

"Do you realize how much money that shit costs?!" He outbursts and I move to get off the bed, but he grabs my arm roughly so I can't get away. 

"Let go of me." I warn him, trying to get out of his grasp. 

"Answer me!" He barks at me.

I don't say another thing, my foot jutting out to kick him off of me, hard.

"Trust me, I know how much money that shit costs because you've been prioritizing it over our other finances for the past five years!" I argue back. 

"You fucking bitch!" He screams as I go for the door again.

"You strung out junkie!" I yell back.

The lamp shatters against the door when he throws it, the only light in the room is now coming from the bathroom and I turn to face him, anger growing in me at the fact he threw a lamp at me over something so stupid.

I'm taking my heel off and throwing it at him next before turning back around to leave, but when the blade of his switchblade lands a foot away from me, in the carpet, I get fed up.

I lunge at him, the two of us hitting the hotel floor with a heavy thud, my nails clawing at his bare chest before he shoves me off of him and grabs my wrists, the two of us in a stare off, catching our breath. 

"I'm only here because I'm worried about you, asshole!" I outburst at him."Your health is going to shit and--"

"--Oh, for fucks sake, Viv, when I die everything's going to you so don't act like you're not foaming at the mouth for me to finally croak." He snaps at me, pulling himself onto the bed, laying on his back.

"If I were eagerly awaiting your death I wouldn't be flushing anything to keep you away from it."

"As if I won't call up a dealer the second you get the fuck out. Speaking of which: get the fuck out." He motions to the door and I stand over him. 

"I'm not done talking."

"I am."

"Good, then you won't argue when I say that you need to slow down because Doc's getting uneasy due to that stunt you pulled last night." 

"I was tired."

"You were high."

"They don't know that."

"They sure do know that, they just haven't confronted you themselves because they don't need you going at them like a rabid dog." 

"Bullshit."

"There was a meeting. They even brought in Bob Timmons, Nikki." I reply and he closes his eyes and lets out a sharp breath before he sits up. "They were hoping maybe us talking about it might encourage you to put your health as a priority." I add, leaving out "get sober or get divorced," deciding that's the last thing he needs to hear, and he nods. "I know it probably won't do much, but, Nikki, we're really worried--I'm really worried." 

"We've had this conversation how many fucking times, Vivian?" He scoffs out, looking up at me. 

"I'm not an idiot, Nikki, you're not okay. You don't look good, you don't smell good, you didn't sound good--"

"--Are you done?" His voice gravels out, unamused, and in denial. 

"Nikki."

"I don't look good because I'm tired, I don't smell good because I haven't showered yet, and you don't know shit about music so who the fuck are you to tell me if I sounded good or not?" 

"You realize I'm not that naive little pipsqueak that just wanted to keep the peace and went along with whatever you said years ago, right?" 

"At least you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut unless I wanted it open for reasons that had nothing to do with talking." He grumbles. 

I glare at him a moment longer and exhale.

"Tell your dealer I said 'hello'." I yield, grabbing my other shoe, leaving in defeat, holding back the tears leaking to my eyes. 

"The fuck's going on?" Izzy asks us as Steven, Slash and Duff look like deer caught in headlights, interrupted as they try to coax me back into the room.

"I'm too high." I state, panicking, and Izzy furrows his brows.

"You're what?" He asks me, looking at the guys. "She's what?"

"Too high." I repeat.

"Who is?" Axl asks, approaching us with a beer in hand, obviously not prepared for what he's about to find out.

"I am." I say at the same time, Steven says, "nobody."

Everybody's at a stand still for a moment, all of us staring at each other before Axl starts in. 

"She's what?!" He demands while Slash and Steven scramble to explain.

"Well, she, like...ate something and now--"

"--Don't tell me she ate those fucking brownies you two have been smuggling." He tells them and Slash slowly puts his sunglasses on to avoid direct eye contact as Stevie stutters out:

"Uh-Um, w-well...she had like five and it was a complete accident." 

"Five?!" He shouts next and I slowly back away as they become further occupied, darting down the hall and turning the corner, hearing Duff say, "wait, Viv!", making my feet go faster. 

The next morning is spent on the phone with Sharise while she goes over last minute wedding details for the date set for the one day the band has off next week. 

"She told me she wants bright pink bridesmaids dresses." I tell Vince, raising a brow.

"Yeah, I helped her pick them out." He smugly replies, knowing I was dreading the idea of looking like a cupcake.

"I hate you."

"I love you." He sarcastically states, leaning back in his chair at the breakfast table in the hotel's cafeteria. 

"Where the hell is everybody else, we're outta here in 20 minutes." Fred tells us and I raise my brows.

"Being that Tansy and Sparkie and Nikki were all up doing God knows what last night, I'm assuming they aren't even aware what year it is, currently." I reply to him, drinking a sip of orange juice.

"And what about Guns?" He asks next. 

"Heck if I know." I tell him and he groans, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, fine, I'll go get everybody rounded up. K?" I offer, standing.

"Thank you." He says to me as I walk to the elevator. 

Once I get to our floor, I start at Tommy's room, banging on the door until I hear, "What?!" from the other side.

"Get up, we leave in 20 minutes!" I say back, going to Tansy and Sparkie's room, knocking at the door.

It opens within seconds, Sparkie, completely naked, standing at the door with his brows raised.

I gag at the sight of him wearing nothing.

"We're leaving in 20 minutes." I tell him neutrally.

"I'll wake Tans up." He replies, smirking at me and I go to turn away but he's grabbing my arm. "You thought about what I said?" He asks me and I roll my jaw. 

"Mmm, still thinking on it." I don't even hide my sarcasm and he licks his lips. 

"Think a little harder, baby, because I almost let it out when we were hanging out last night." He informs me and my blood runs cold. "The longer you wait the easier it's gonna start wanting to just slip out without a second thought." He adds, shutting the door in my face and I let out a defeated breath, squeezing my eyes closed for a second and rubbing my forehead. 

When I turn to walk down to Steven's room, he and Slash are coming out, leaning on each other, both of them wearing sunglasses to shield their hangovers, dragging their luggage along behind them.

"Is Axl, Izzy and Duff up?" I ask them as I pass by. 

"I don't even think Axl slept. Izzy's trying to shoo away some girl and Duff's trying to finish packing." Steven replies flatly, obviously tired, and I go to Duff's room, knocking a few times before he opens the door. 

He opens it and his eyes light up.

"There you are." He says, stepping back to his suitcase that's on the bed as he starts tossing his belongings in.

"Yeah, I got up earlier for breakfast." I reply, grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bathroom.

"I figured." He states, running a hand through his hair before rubbing his eye. "Um, Izzy and Axl just left, I think, and I'll be down in a second, so." He informs me and I nod.

"Okay, I'm gonna go grab my stuff from my room." 

"K." He replies as I leave, going across the hall to unlock my door and gather my stuff. 

The door, that I left crack, is soon opening again and I think it's Fred or Doc or one of the guys, but when I look up from my suitcase to see Sparkie, I feel sick.

"You do realize sexual coercion is rape, right?" I blatantly ask, wanting him to know good and well what he's doing. 

"Not if it's consensual." He shrugs and I roll my jaw and zip up my bag.

"It's not consensual if you're having to blackmail me into doing it." I bite back, shoving past me to get out of the room, and I run smack dab into Fred, and pray he didn't hear our exchange. 

He opens his mouth to speak, quickly halting when Sparkie comes out behind me, smirking.

"Morning." He says to Fred. "Vivian." He more so sneers, heading to the elevator.

"The fuck is that about?" Fred asks, referring to Sparkie being in the room with me.

"Um, he was helping me pack." I lie, knowing if I tell him the truth he'll be arrested for murder.

"Right." He looks at me with unsure eyes before brushing it off. "We're loading up." 

Fred was a damn good actor.

The only thing keeping him from beating the shit out of Sparkie, was knowing when he told Nikki later on that night, Nikki would do a worse number on the bastard than he would.

"Wow, I can actually run a brush through it." I comment to Duff, combing out his hair before he picks up a can of hair spray to tease it a little.

"Extra conditioner. Who'da thought." He adds, grinning at me like a little kid.

"Viv, can you do this?" Stevie asks next, a slight whine to his voice.

"What is it?" I ask, stepping to him in the dressing room. 

When I see what he means, I look at him, unamused.

"Steven Adler. You know how to lace your pants up." 

"No, these are hard to do because the string is almost too big for the little holes they go through." He pleads his case, raising his brows. "You have tinier fingers, plus you're not fighting off an everlasting hangover and coke jitters."

I look down at his pants, seeing very well he's not wearing underwear, and take a deep breath.

"I'll keep my hands to myself, alright? I promise." He assures me, tucking his hands behind his back. 

"It's not your hands I'm worried about." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

I end up having to crouch to get eye level with the laces, and when the door opens up to reveal Axl, and I'm on my knees with my hands on the strings keeping Steven's penis separated from my face, it looks assbackwards--well, blowjobbackwards. 

"Can you stop blowing my band?!" Axl's meltdown tone on full effect and I look at him, wide eyed.

"I'm not blowing anybody!" I snap. 

"Except Duff." Slash mumbles with a little chuckle and Izzy finds humor in it as well. 

"Axl, dude, she's just helping me with my pants." Stevie defends me, raising his brows. "Besides if she was blowing me that'd be our fucking business."

"What did you just say to me?" Axl hones in on Steven, his eyes sharply narrowing, his jaw tightening. 

"I said, if she was sucking my fucking cock it would be mine and her's business--ya know, since we're both fucking grown-ass adults and you can't tell us what the fuck to do?" 

"You're in my fucking band, Steven, so yeah, actually, I believe I can tell you--"

"--Guys, don't fight." I say, standing up and crossing my arms. 

"--You can't tell me shit!" Steven outbursts. "Just like you can't tell Duff shit! He's a big boy and Viv's a big girl--what goes on between them doesn't concern any of us, especially not you." Steven pushes me out ot the way so he can stand nearly chest with chest with Axl. 

"Axl, Stevie, c'mon, now." Duff says, gently pulling me behind him as he steps to the guys, slowly urging them apart. 

"It does concern me because it's affecting Guns N' Roses." Axl hisses. 

"You act like she's fucking everything up, Axl! Just because he was late for one fucking rehearsal--"

"--A studio session, soundcheck, and, one fucking rehearsal." The red head snaps and I look at Duff, confused.

I didn't know he missed a studio session and soundcheck for me at one point...the look on Duff's face says that Axl was supposed to keep quiet about the studio session mishap and soundcheck.

He looks pissed.

"And I said it wouldn't happen again." Duff cuts in.

"Why can't you just back off?" I ask next without another thought.

"Because you spreading your legs is fucking up my band, Yoko!" Axl doesn't hesitate, and Steven's shoving at his shoulders, sending him shuffling back, catching himself on the closed door.

Just as Axl goes to get back at Steven, Duff intervenes, holding at Axl while I get in front of Steven and face him, keeping him from taking advantage of Axl being held still. 

There's a loud knock at the door and Doc peeks his head in.

"You're on." He tells the guys, shutting the door back.

Axl shoves Duff off of him and storms out while Steven ties his pants since I fixed the laces, and huffs out a breath.

"Izzy, either straighten your fucking buddy out or I will. I've about had his shit." Stevie threatens. 

Axl and Steven butted heads more than anybody in the band did at that time. Steven couldn't stand Axl's uptight arrogance, and Axl couldn't understand Steven's nonchalance. 

I think that's why it was so easy for Axl to give up on Steven when his drug abuse got so bad--he was tired of trying to understand Steven when he was decently sober, trying to understand him putting drugs before the band would have exhausted him to the point of no return.

They just couldn't ever get in tune with one another.

[bohemianblackbrainiac-blog]

The Art of Consistency

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in my meager 28 years of existence is that starting something can be difficult, but the difference between success and failure depends on one factor: consistency. Having consistency means you have the will to follow through with the actions you start. We get a lot of practice with starting things, whether it’s the TV, our homework, or dinner. It becomes easier and easier to start things. Consistency is a test of our character and concentration.

The opportunity costs of consistency and concentration are usually minimal when the results of an action result in some immediate temporary gratification. Once you finish your homework you can watch TV. Once you turn on the TV you can really watch TV. Once you cook dinner you can eat and watch TV. Our brains usually comply when we want them to do things for immediate gratification. It’s delayed gratification that we have issues with.

In our society we don’t become masters of delayed gratification immediately. In fact it takes a while, and often times the things that society prepares us for that require an instense amount of concentration and consistency don’t give us the gratification we were waiting on.

Take school for an example. In the states you go to school starting at four or five and are told that to be successful in life you need to continue this strict regimen of going to school for six hours a day and then having two hours of homework at night (not to mention special projects, extracurricular activities, etc.) for the next thirteen years if you even want a shot at success. Then you’re told that you need to do an additional 2-5 years of special school so that you can get a job. But you’ll never get into special school without those first thirteen years. So you finally finish your first thirteen year sentence and you have this ceremony that, if you’re like me, you feel good about but not great.

When I graduated high school I didn’t stop to think about how much I’d given up to attain this little piece of paper that becomes a name that I write on an application or resume, that pretty much goes unnoticed by most of society. I doubt many perspective employers ask you about where you went to high school, but if they do...congratulations. For me, my graduation, which was held at this big Arena in New Orleans, felt like another day. I knew I was suppose to be happy because I was finally done. I remember spending most of that day trying to get my hair twisted only to have it mangaled by this sweet Nigerian woman and sprayed to obvilion with hairspray. Looking back at it, that hairdresser made my hair way better than what I was currently rocking but at the time I hated it. Long story short, my graduation was just a day and not a day I enjoyed very much because I had already suppressed the horrors of my thirteen years in academic prison. I had long forgotten the nights in fourth and fifth grade when I’d fall asleep at the kitchen table doing homework or how my back would hurt carrying 4-5 giant textbooks with me to school everyday. How I hated having the merit of my life judged by a letter grade. In that time the arts and sports were my escape from tests and studying, although I was advidly studying the arts and sports and regularly testing myself.

I graduated like most people that day, with the promise of the next four years giving me the gratification that those first thirteen didn’t seem to give me.

The irony is that after those four years and another additional year of special school, I realized the horrible truth of the lie my generation bought at age five. Depending on your field of study there arent many jobs waiting for you when you finish almost two decades of school. Even for most basic jobs employers want employees who have experience. And if the only thing you’ve experienced in 21 years of life is school you’re as good as useless to most people looking for people to work a job.

So why is job experience so important. Simple. It demonstrates consistency and concentration over an extended period of time for the completion of a goal that doesn’t immeadiately impact your survival or level of gratification. Meaning you’re able to work this job for somebody else and get the job done and then be content until you’re finally paid for those services. But school is experience right??? Yes, but the majority of that time was involuntary servitude. In most places in the states you legally have to go to school until you’re sixteen. Everything you did past high school is a choice and if you choose to study you are positioning yourself to get better jobs but not necessarily building experience to actually complete jobs.

So Charles why are you telling me this? Well I almost didn’t write this blog this week. 2019 is tying to bring that 2018 energy with it but hasn’t realized were not doing that anymore. So I realized that it was more important that I continue my blog than to start it. That continuing to post sets a pattern in the Universe’s source code. It’s telling the Universe, hey pay attention to this thing because I want it to be easier for me to do this thing and I want to do this thing more and more. As we all struggle to leave 2018’s baggage behind and become the embodiment of our fully manifested life goals for 2019, I’d like to offer this word of encouragement: Keep Going! Consistency is the key, whether you’re trying to start a new diet, restructure your finances, get a new job, or finish a big project.

Although I wasn’t the biggest fan of school I had an amazing amount of time as a kid to do extra cirricualr activities and I explored all types of art from visual art to theatre, writing, dance, film, and eventually music. I’ve been consistently working on the arts for maybe twenty five years and now I’m a full time artist. Whether it’s teaching art, performing art, writing about art, everything I do is centered around the things I was passively pursuing as a kid. This year I’m committed to growing into a new and beautifully renewed individual so I’ll keep posting the process here in hopes that it will continue to inspire me and anyone reading this not to give up when everything around us says we should.

Do the difficult things while they are easy and do the great things while they are small. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step- Lau Tzu

The paradox of education is precisely this - that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated- James Baldwin

An unexamined life is not worth living- Plato

When I'm not longer rapping, I want to open up an ice cream parlor and call myself Scoop Dogg- Snoop Dogg