#did anyone see the foo fighters reference...

[roxabellas]

You're A Night Blooming Sickle Cell

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

word count : 9,551

warnings : reader is a camgirl, alex is a bit of an incel, masturbation (both), feet kink (sorry), video calls, live streams, sex toys (on reader, vibrator, dildo & butt plug), would anyone kill me if i said he's a bit sad again, quite a lot of implications that he's got some degree of depression, he's very parasocial

Steam curled around your wet limbs like ghostly ribbons as you stood under the shower head, fogging up the corners of the mirror like a hazy breath and dampening the air like a mist. Hot water cascaded down your body as you leaned back against the moist tiled walls, hair sticking to your shoulders and face. The air was thick with lavender after you'd lathered your body with it, rubbing it into your legs, arms and torso with gentle, languid circles, the floral, slightly herbal scent emanating off of you as it sunk into your skin.

You ran your hand through your hair while the spray of the hot water hissed above you, rinsing out the last remnants of your conditioner before turning to face away from the water, letting it run smoothly down your back as you exhaled through parted lips. You let your hands wander over your body, from the back of your neck to your shoulders, to your boobs and then down your torso and your arms before letting them rest crossed loosely over your belly. It was intimate, in a way. Just feeling free in your body. You weren't aroused, at least, not yet, just alive in your skin, comfortable and secure in the quiet.

You idly rolled your shoulder back and stretched your neck from side to side, letting yourself revel in the quiet, indulgent space before you had to become her. Become the girl your viewers paid for, the girl who whispered filth into the camera and gave up any ounce of dignity in exchange for bigger tips.

Eventually, you reached for the dial and twisted it off before stepping out over the edge of the ceramic tub onto the soft mat on the floor, the soft fabric dampening beneath your feet as the water from your hair dripped down your shoulders, small rivulets traveling over the curves of your body until they soaked into the towel under you.

You leaned your head over the rim of the bath and curled your fingers tightly around the length of your hair before squeezing, wringing the water out as it splashed down into the tub with a sharp, wet sound that resembled a crack.

You straightened yourself up, running your hands through your hair one more time before reaching for the towel you'd hung on the rack before getting in, your damp strands clinging to your shoulders and back like glue. You patted the towel along your arms, absorbing the moisture as the fabric travelled down your body. You'd learned ages ago that patting was better than rubbing, at least for you. Dragging the scratchy fabric along your skin made it turn an angry red.

You gently dried off your legs and lifted one foot at a time, brushing off the little pieces of fluffy towel that had stuck to your soles, before wrapping the towel around you and drawing it tight at your chest before reaching for a second, smaller towel to dry your hair with.

You squeezed the towel around the lengths of your hair, getting just enough of the excess moisture out of the strands so it wouldn't drip, before padding out of the fog-filled bathroom and crossing the hallway to your bedroom.

The door creaked open as you stepped in, draping both of the towels, from your hair and from your torso, over the foot of your bed.

The room was warmly lit, illuminated softly by the glowing fairy lights twirled and interlaced around your bed frame and the subtle orange gleam from your Himalayan salt lamp perched to the side of your desk. Your curtains were drawn, blocking out the early evening light, leaving you to relax and bask in the dim, comforting light of your room.

You stood in front of your full-length mirror, your reflection staring back at you with your hair hanging in damp tendrils, framing your face like it was a renaissance painting, and your skin flushed a subtle pink from being kissed by the heat of the shower, a fuchsia blush dusted over your body like pollen.

You tilted your head slightly, assessing the curves and the angles in your mind, your figure like a blank canvas waiting to be decorated, whether it be with a dark, midnight blue or a light, rosy pink, silky satin and lace or tough leather.

You looked over yourself with a critical eye, less out of insecurity but more out of habit. You knew how to look at yourself the way others would, what your viewers liked and didn't like, how best to present yourself to appeal to the men curled up at desk chairs in dark rooms, fucking their fists into oblivion. You knew which colours got you the most tips, which hairstyle, which fabric, which toys, you'd worked it all out not long after you'd started your page.

You turned on your heel towards your chest of drawers before kneeling down and tugging open the bottom drawer, which was stuffed full of countless different sets of lingerie you'd long given up on trying to sort out. They always ended up back like this anyway; a tangled, overflowing and disorganised jumbled rainbow of silk, lace and velvet.

You dug your hand into the drawer with a manor that resembled dipping one's hand into a tank with a ferocious shark. You had something purple in mind, a change to the usual captivating, crimson red or enchanting, ebony black you often dolled yourself up in, but still a sultry enough piece that you knew would have your devoted viewers excited.

You considered something with velvet, a plush, fuzzy set draped over your skin like a kitten's fur, inviting, intriguing, but just when you thought your fingers had sought out a piece, a dreary lilac night dress with a small slit on the thigh and a low-cut front, your fingernail caught on the fabric, a tiny little chip in your polish that you hadn't even noticed had come off. Your tongue licked over the backs of your top teeth, your lips pursing outwards a little, before you decided to drop it back into the drawer, not wanting to have to worry about your nail catching on it.

You continued to rifle through the colourful, scratchy jungle of lace underwear, mesh stockings, sparkly bodysuits and strappy bras, before finding the first piece of the matching set you initially had your mind set on, a dark, brooding purple sheer babydoll dress trimmed with an even darker shade of lace, with sequins and gems sewn into the intricate patterns.

You folded it gently, the soft fabric swaying loosely beneath your movements like a ghost before you set it aside and delved back in, searching for the matching underwear, bra and stockings.

You fished out one thigh-high sock at a time as you found them, each embellished with a subtle glitter on the see-through mesh length, and the same embroidered trim on the dress stitched around the hem.

Next came the deep plum panties, with four thin silk straps attached to the front and back, two on each side, with a small clip on the end of them to allow them to hold up the stockings. The pattern of the lace was floral and labyrinthine in the way the rows of the design wound in and out of each other, twirling and spiraling into complex flowery arrangements.

Lastly, you then pulled out the matching bra, the gentle silk of the straps soft against your fingers and the identical lace slightly scratchy as you set it aside with the little growing pile beside you, each piece the colour of a bleeding blueberry.

You pushed yourself up off of the floor, pushing the drawer shut and picking up the short stack of soft materials before perching on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath you, and you rolled one of the stockings slowly up your leg, smoothing it over your calf and up to your thigh, the elastic band hugging your flesh tight. The fabric shimmered subtly in the soft light as you adjusted the seam, before repeating it with the other leg.

It felt like stepping into someone else's skin. Into hers. She was your alter ego, almost. Exuding more confidence, power and sex appeal than you ever did in your day-to-day life.

You stepped into the underwear next, sliding them up your legs with a slow roll of your hips, the fabric clinging to your skin and the lace framing your ass just right, the floral pattern replicating the look of dried flowers pressed on your skin. The silk suspenders hung off of your panties dangled loosely in front of and behind your thighs before you clipped them onto the lace tops of your socks, holding them up in place.

You fed your arms through the straps of the bra before reaching behind you to fasten it, the soft padding whispering over your nipples as you adjusted the cups, lifting and shaping them just right until your cleavage was framed like a luxury art piece. The swell of your tits threatened to spill over the top, but they didn't, at least, not yet.

You pulled the twists out of your bra straps before reaching for the babydoll, slipping it over your head with one quick, weightless pull, the sheer mesh outlined by the darker, opaque lace dancing around your torso like a ghostly mist. The gauzy material left your midriff completely visible, the hem brushing over the tops of your thighs and your bra peeking through, waiting to be unveiled like a gift on Christmas morning.

You wandered back over to your mirror, admiring your reflection, doused in bruised violets and a quiet shimmer, adjusting the collar of your barely-there dress once more and letting it fall back into place with a delicate flutter.

You dusted over your eyes with a dark black shadow using your old but reliable little brush, the bristles stained dark from how often you used it, and you danced it over your lids, corners, and crease to create the smokey effect you usually went for. You combed through your lashes with mascara and added a swipe of gloss over your lips before you tossed each product back down into your jumbled makeup box with a dull, plasticky clatter, already having to resist the urge to itch your eye.

You then knelt before your dresser again, sliding open the middle drawer this time, and inside was in a similar state to your lingerie drawer, but instead, it was a mess of plastic, stainless steel and wires instead.

You liked to match the toys to the colour of your lingerie, it was part of the fun to you. You liked consistency. Your fingertips skimmed over the layers of cool metal and smooth silicone before selecting a plug first, slim and gleaming with a deep purple gem at the base.

You then pulled out a long, sleek wand, more magenta in hue but in line with your colour scheme nonetheless. The rounded head's vibrations could fluctuate between constant and strong, mild and slow, and a choreographed pulse meticulously designed to drive you mad.

You next picked a dildo, one that could be attached to your machine, and you settled on a pale lilac one. It was thick with long, winding artificial veins running through it, and a length that made you gasp like it was the first time, every single time.

After a final quick skim through, you pushed the drawer shut with a bit more force than intended, hearing the rattle and clatter of protest from the toys inside, before setting your sights on the machine tucked beside your chest of drawers. It wasn't bulky, not that bulky, anyway, but it wasn't exactly sleek either.

You picked it up, maneuvering it over to your bed before bringing the three toys over as well, your babydoll dress swaying like smoke around your thighs as you glided, before planting your laptop in front of you as you lay on your mattress, the soft sheets rustling gently beneath you.

The screen sleepily blinked to life before it casted a soft light on your skin as you logged into your streaming site. You double-checked the lighting, the angles, the position of the machine and the toys on the bed, making sure everything was how you wanted it, that it would be visible but left enticing in the dim light of your bedroom.

Alex sat hunched at his desk in his dark, messy bedroom, his back curved into a position that he knew would ache once he uncurled himself, but he didn't care enough to straighten up.

His chair creaked underneath him as he shifted, the old faux leather stuck to the backs of his thighs from sweat. One hand rested over the top of his computer mouse on the desk while the other lay limply across his bare lap, his trousers and boxers crumpled around his ankles before he decided to kick them off completely, scrunching his face as he heard the sharp, metallic clatter beneath his table as they collided with some old beer cans down there.

His bedroom stunk of stale sweat and something old festering on the pile of stacked up plates on the corner of his desk. His t-shirt clung to the back of his neck from hours of sitting there, doing nothing but wallowing in the hollow humidity of his room. He hadn't eaten anything “proper” since around 11AM that morning, excluding a cereal bar he'd scoffed in a rush just moments before, hadn't shaved in months, couldn't remember the last time he did something other than sit at his table and jerk off.

His curtains were drawn and his windows shut, as always, as if he was scared of someone seeing him like this despite him living on the third floor. His lamp buzzed weakly in the corner behind his computer, throwing pale shadows that bled into the ridges of clutter on his desk. Empty, stained cups, three lighters he kept losing and rediscovering, and a wad of tangled USB cables.

His cock was embarrassingly hard between his legs, just from looking at your profile picture as he waited impatiently for you to go live. It always got him hard within seconds.

He'd been refreshing your page for the past half an hour, his fingers jittery, his chest tight and his hair a greasy mop around his face. He thought about clicking on an old stream on your profile to tide him over until 8PM, but he'd already watched all of them at least ten times each.

He'd bought every special clip you uploaded, purchased custom videos whenever you offered them. He had them all stored in folders on his computer, categorised by outfit colour, and he knew the time stamps off by heart.

He knew your schedule better than he knew the back of his hand. It was his only way of working out what day it was. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, 8PM. He got worried if you were even so much as thirty seconds later than the scheduled time. It was a sad situation.

He also knew you sometimes liked to do unscheduled, random streams, sometimes in the morning or afternoon. Those were his favourite. He always had your profile open on his ancient, slow computer anyway, either stroking himself blind to your old videos or just staring longingly and aimlessly at your account.

His dick pulsed heavily against his palm, but he didn't stroke. Not yet, despite how much he ached for it. He wanted to save that for you, even though he was throbbing, leaking and twitching in anticipation.

He looked down at the small clock in the corner of his screen, watching the numbers tick by slowly. Five minutes until you were meant to go live.

He'd already booked a private video call for the next day, Sunday, just to keep him going until the next stream on Tuesday. He never turned his camera on for these video chats, or if he did, he had it faced up at his ceiling, the plaster up there dusty and cobwebbed. He was almost certain that you knew your demographic: sweaty, single and self-destructive, but he never wanted you to actually have the misfortune of seeing him.

His tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips before bringing his hand up to his face, his fingertips finding his mouth before he started to chew on his raw nails, nibbling at them until his nail bed screamed at him to stop,  until he tasted blood on his tongue, until they were so sore it hurt to even move his knuckles.

Two minutes until you went live. His throbbing cock twitched helplessly, excitedly, and he wondered what colour you'd be wearing today. His favourite to see you in was deep navy blue, like the colour of the ocean at midnight, whether it was a bra and panties, a tiny night dress or a bodysuit, it always turned him on to no end.

One minute until you went live. He started refreshing the page, clicking the small circular arrow in the corner repeatedly until that glowing button appeared on your profile. Join Live. He clicked it within milliseconds, the loading circle spinning once, twice, before the feed bloomed to life, and there you were.

You lay delicately on your side, resting your face in your hand as you watched the viewers pile in, flooding the chat as more people joined.

Dark purple.

It was the first thing he registered, your body wrapped up in a deep wine colour. Thigh-highs clinging to your legs suspended by taut little silk straps connected to your thin lace panties, your bra barely containing your tits, and that sheer little dress wisped over your frame.

His lips parted slightly and he slid his hand up his cock, rubbing his palm over his flushed tip in slow, continuous circles, leaking precum all over it.

There was the slightest delay in the audio on his computer, the sound coming just half a second later than the video. You smiled to yourself as you pretended to read some of the messages infiltrating the chat like a tsunami, your eyes scanning over the screen, and you murmured a soft, “Hi, babies…”

Alex swallowed hard, forcing himself to take his eyes off of you for a moment to skim over the messages rushing through the little chat box on the side.

He hated the other men watching the stream. He felt his blood boil whenever someone else sent a tip, felt a scowl crease across his face whenever he read the messages from the desperate men in the chat. In fact, he despised the chat so much, he usually opted to hiding it completely.

He hated how they typed, how they demanded things, how they acted like they owned you. You weren't theirs. You were his. His girl. Even if you didn't know it yet, even if you never would.

He always made sure to one-up the tips others gave you, giving five, ten, twenty pounds more than what the other person sent. He couldn't stand others taking your attention away from him, even if you weren't really focused on him in the first place.

He wanted to be the only one watching, the only one sending you money. He wanted to be the only one you saw, wanted you to care about him, crave him, want him the way he wanted you.

He clicked the little ‘x’ in the corner of the chat box, closing it off so he could just focus on you, and his fingers clacked across his keyboard that had definitely seen better days as he sent a £50 tip before you'd even started taking your clothes off. A handful of the keys were missing from the board, while some of them he just had to press down extra hard for them to work. He liked to tip early, before anyone else, so he could win this imaginary battle in his mind between him and all of the other viewers for you.

He brought his hand back to his cock right after sending the money, planting his palm back on his scorching hot tip and rubbing in torturous circles, smearing his precum along his slit.

His back remained curled up taut in his hunch as he played with himself, his dick jumping in his hand as the little notification appeared on screen thanking him for the tip.

His username was just the word ‘user’ followed by a jumble of numbers, something you'd come to remember off by heart like your phone number or your pin on your debit card, just from how often you saw him watching your streams.

He watched as your lips curled up into a sly smile as you purred, “Did you miss me?”

He stared intently as you dragged your fingers lightly over your thighs, toying with the lace trim of your stockings, and he moved his hand down his shaft and wrapped his fingers tightly around the base, trying to stop himself from losing it too soon.

You slowly sat forward on your knees, letting your babydoll dress ride up a little, pulling it up to let it bunch at your waist before peeling it off entirely, slow, teasing, taunting.

Your bra came next, reaching behind you to unfasten it and letting it fall loose over your shoulders, exposing your tits to the camera. He felt a dribble of drool drip out of the corner of his lips as he sat with his jaw slack before wiping it with his spare hand, biting his cheeks and pursing his lips.

He let out the quietest moan as he watched you start to play with them, cupping them in your palms and running your thumbs over your tight nipples as your voice, soft like honey but sticky with seduction, hummed, “You've already got your cocks out, don't you? Mm, bet you couldn't even wait…”

He pressed his lips together as his fingertips creeped up the underside of his shaft, stroking half-heartedly to tease himself, keep himself on the edge, not letting himself jerk off properly yet.

Finally, you unclipped the small suspenders on your panties from your stockings next before hooking your fingers beneath the lace waistband and pulling them down your legs, inch by inch, agonisingly slow, and he bit his dry lower lip, chewing on it to stifle his desperate, humiliating whimpers as his eyes landed on your glistening cunt.

He'd memorised it long ago, the colour and the shape permanently imprinted in his mind from the sheer amount of time he'd spent just staring at it. He'd imagined licking it, touching it, being inside it, worshipping it like gospel.

He let out a quiet little groan as you turned on your knees, the barely audible sound of your bed sheets rustling under your movements sifted through his computer's tinny speakers just a moment later than the video feed.

You leaned forward slightly, your ass now the main focus in the frame, and you reached for the plug you set aside before going live. Cool, smooth metal with a gleaming violet jewel at the end.

You brought it to your mouth first, looking over your shoulder into the camera as you wrapped your lips around it, licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, wetting it, making it easier to slip in, and he let out another whine at the filthy sight.

He spat on his palm, a string of saliva stretching like glue from his lower lip as he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock once more, squeezing tightly as he watched you arch your back before reaching behind you and teasing the tip of the plug around your hole before slowly pushing it in.

He scrunched up his face with concentration as he poured all of his effort into not yanking his wrist into movement and jerking off, wanting to last as long as possible. At least, as long as he can while watching you.

You let out a soft, partially fabricated moan as you eased the plug inside with a soft sound before it settled, rubbing one hand over your ass as you showcased the purple gem nestled between your cheeks and pressed flush against your skin.

Even though he'd come to be familiar with when your moans were fake and performative, they always made him leak nonetheless. He tore his palm away from his cock just for a moment to send another tip, this one slightly less at £30, but still enough to satisfy the craving for him. The craving to give everything up to you, like leaving offerings to a deity.

His hand came back to his sweltering tip like gravity, resuming the slow palming over the throbbing, angry red head of his dick as the notification popped up on the screen, the precum drizzling from his slit making his hand grow slicker with each tormenting movement.

You shifted on his screen once more, reaching behind you and dragging the machine forward into frame, and the camera caught the gentle light reflecting off of the steel rods and the slight glisten on the toy already mounted on the tip. “Mm, I've been waiting for this all day…” you drawled, and he hung onto every word.

You positioned it beside you with a calm, confident ease, and his fingers snaked down his cock and coiled around his shaft, squeezing and constricting it tightly as his hand trembled a little. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek as you angled the toy between your legs, lying on your side while holding one leg up.

You ran your hand up and down along the soft, smooth skin of your leg before settling it between them, your fingers sprawling across your inner thigh. “You've all been so patient tonight…” your soft, teasing voice came through his speakers like a siren's call.

You looked into the camera as you brought your hand to your mouth, slipping two fingers between your lips and sucking gently, and he met your eyes on his monitor, pretending you were looking straight at him. Your hand came back down between your legs and his gaze followed it as you rubbed your wettened fingers over your clit.

His breath came in quicker, heavier pants as he rubbed his thumb over his oozing tip in time with your movements, and he moaned as you began to guide the toy in, the silicone head pressing between your folds. His legs were spread wide beneath his desk, his toes curling into the stained carpet, one of his mismatched socks half-peeled from where he'd stepped in something that had since dried and crusted that he never dealt with.

You rocked your hips a little against the bed, nudging the toy against your hole, and he mirrored your movements in his squeaky chair, rutting his hips against his palm.

The machine came to life with a mechanical whir, the sound humming through his speakers, and it started slow with steady, rhythmic thrusts, your body accommodating with a soft, breathy moan spilling from your lips. The plug remained tucked snugly in place, stretching you as the second toy entered your slick warmth.

Alex moaned, high-pitched and desperate as he finally let himself have more than a palm, more than a squeeze, allowing himself to stroke himself properly. His hand moved fast up and down his shaft, the wet, obscene sounds echoing in his dingy bedroom, the only other noise being the hum from his computer.

You groaned, the sound morphing into a gasp as the dildo filled you up. “Oh, fuck… I forgot how big this one was…” you said breathlessly, shifting on your bed sheets to take it deeper and holding your leg up higher. “It's so fucking good…”

His pupils were blown wide as he stared, his hand a blur on his cock and his wrist aching from the rapid pace already. He peeled his palm off of his velvety length for just a moment to spit a wad of saliva into it, trying to replicate what he imagined your pussy would feel like, to try and remember what a real pussy felt like.

His mouth went dry at the sight of the toy pumping in and out of you, the way your cunt greedily sucked it in, how you moaned with every other thrust. Fabricated or not, they never failed to make him twitch, never failed to make his hand move a little faster and his brain to get a little mushier.

He pretended that it was him inside you, him making you moan and writhe and grip the sheets, and he hated that machine for being the one to do that to you instead.

He pumped his dick in time with it nonetheless, his sticky, sweaty thighs tensing and trembling, his chest flushed and nipples hardened into points, and his cock so sensitive he could barely take it. He pulled his foreskin back to tease his frenulum, the sensation making his shaft spasm in his grip.

He licked his lips and his eyes met your smokey gaze on the screen, his knuckles twitching involuntarily as you reached up to play with your tits. The rhythm of the machine was steady, the bounce of your chest with each mechanical thrust hypnotic, but his speed faltered the second he saw that notification pop up.

The little chime and the bold text flashing up in the corner of the screen, it made his stomach churn. Someone had tipped £30. His breath caught in his throat as it tightened, and his face scrunched up in disgust, like it had personally offended him, and in a way, it had.

His nose wrinkled and his jaw clenched, his hand stalling mid-motion on his cock for a moment, that awful, fiery jealousy sparking in his stomach and coiling its way up until it suffocated him.

He angrily smacked his slick fingers over the keys, almost breaking yet another one with the force as he sent a tip, making sure to send more than the other person. £45. Big enough to beat the other man, but little enough so that in case another faceless idiot who deemed themselves worthy of giving you their money came along, he could one-up their tip with no problem.

The soft ding rang through his low-quality speakers, and the text in the corner was replaced with his tip. Just how it should be.

He threw his hand back on his cock, resuming his previous pace, and he watched as your eyes flickered over the screen. Your lips curled up into a slow smile, bringing your hand back down between your legs and rubbing slow circles over your clit. “God, I love when my boys spoil me…” you breathed, shifting your position to angle the dildo deeper as the machine continued its thrusts.

He stared at the corner of his computer screen with still mildly angered eyes and a furrowed brow for a moment longer, daring the other person to even try and match his tip.

You were his. Not theirs. They didn't understand you like he did, nor did they watch you like he did. They didn't know the exact shade of your stockings, or buy the same pair for themselves just to sniff and hold, and pretend that they were the ones you actually wore. They didn't catch the way your voice or breath changed, higher or lower, shallow and quick or heavy and deep, depending on where your fingers were. They didn't watch the replays at 3AM, slowing them down just to see your mouth shape each gasp. They didn't write down their favourite time stamps of each video, just so they could watch them over and over and over again. They probably watched and jerked off to other camgirls in the meantime, in between your streams, but he could never do that to you. They didn't see the real you. Not like he did.

And that kept the rage from spilling over for now.

You moaned softly, high and sweet, humming in pleasure through pressed-together lips as your fingers continued to trace delicate circles over your clit like silk, the heavenly sound rattling through his speakers as he thrusted up into his fist.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to last much longer, but he wanted to do his best to wait, to hold on, at least until you said you said he could cum. He never managed to last the full hour without cumming, though he'd always tried his best.

His pupils were blown wider than his iris, every breath that escaped his throat tinged with a whine, and he gawked as you reached to the side without a word, breathless and panting, and his body tensed and quivered as you picked up the vibrator, that dull magenta wand.

He bit down on his lower lip, forcing his hand on his cock to slow down, wanting to cum to you using that toy. He knew it made your thighs shake, and made the filthiest things stutter out of your mouth in the haze of the pleasure.

You ran the wand along your thigh first, rolling your hips subtly against the dildo before you murmured a soft, “Someone speed this up for me…”

He didn't need to be told twice. His fingers flew across the keyboard, frantically typing a tip to make the machine thrust faster, needing to be the first one. To be the only one.

He could hardly sit still, his hips twitching, bucking and rutting as precum soaked his belly, and he moaned as he heard your voice through his speakers as the speed kicked in, the metallic rods spinning faster. “Ah, fuck-” you whined, your thighs clenching as the machine surged deeper before you flicked the vibrator on with a soft hum. “Shit…”

You pressed the rounded end of the wand to your clit and gasped, and the sound shot straight through his veins like a drug. Your lips parted as you moaned, your free hand coming up to grope your chest again.

He allowed his hand to speed up again, an aching pain constricting his whole forearm from his rapid stroking, and he aggressively shoved his greasy strands out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his vision of you.

“You want me to cum, don't you?” you asked sweetly, and he nodded so hard it felt like his head was going to fall off, as if you could see him. “Mmh, you're all such good boys for me… stroking those cocks so fast…”

His brain morphed and twisted your words, tricking his fogged brain into thinking you were just talking to him, only feeding his ears what they yearned to hear.

He groaned, deep and horse, jerking his cock even faster while his other hand held onto the edge of his desk for dear life, his knuckles bleaching white from the force of his grip.

Your words were starting to slur from the sensations, breath hitching with each pulse of the vibrator as the machine fucked into you at his command.

He was panting now, shallow, uneven breaths that barely filled his lungs as he watched you writhe, your eyes half-lidded and your body coated with a thin sheen of sweat that faintly glistened in the low light of your bedroom.

His body was crammed full of a jumbled mess of contradictions, tense and slack all at once, and his skin prickling with heat. Everything else in the room faded as he felt his balls tighten with the need to release. The stale coffee by his elbow, the jar of dead flies floating in murky water in his windowsill, and the persistent ache in his back from sitting at his desk all day long. None of it mattered.

Not the fact that he hadn't spoken to another person face to face in weeks, not the way he winced at his own reflection in the black of the monitor when the stream lagged for a heartbeat and he saw himself staring, gawking.

All he saw was you. All he needed was you.

Your parted lips, trembling thighs, that toy inside you and the vibrator against your clit. The slick, wet sound of lust pulsing through his speakers. The flush that blossomed across your chest and neck like fresh roses in the spring. The sticky mess between your legs.

It had been years since he'd touched someone warm, since he'd been touched. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been held, kissed, touched like he mattered.

He remembered the heat, the wet, the pulsing of what it felt like to be inside of a pussy. The way her nails scraped down his back, legs slung around his waist and hands in his hair.

But not like you. You would moan his name, he was sure of it. You'd arch up into him, take him deep, and kiss him until his lips bled.

He swallowed hard, just tightening his fingers around his cock to try and recreate that sensation, as he imagined your cunt taking him in, stretching around him.

He wanted heat. He wanted muscle and tremble and your legs around his hips, locking him in, as if he'd want to be anywhere else. He wanted friction that fought him back, held him in even when he tried to pull out.

He spat down onto his cock and kept pumping, a string of drool landing on his chin as he kept his eyes locked on you on his screen. You'd ruined him for anyone else. No one else would ever compare. No one else even existed to him.

You were moaning louder now, head lolled to one side and hand fisting in the sheets. Your hips stuttered and thighs quivered as the machine drove into you over and over again, your face scrunched up in the same sweet way it always did when you were right on the cusp, and he was right there with you.

His vision was dazed in a similar way to when he was drunk, and he grunted, teeth clenched and grinding tightly as he fumbled blindly for a tissue before yanking a few from the crumpled,, torn box on his desk.

He barely managed to hold them in place over the wide, flushed tip of his cock before his orgasm slammed into him with the force of a ten-tonne truck, making his hips jerk and thighs stiffen.

Hot, thick ribbons spurted into the tissue with sharp pulses as he panted, soaking through the thin paper almost immediately, and he didn't look away from the screen. Not once.

He jerked himself through it, moaning in loud, broken stutters, hissing your name through gritted teeth, his back arching and muscles seizing.

His breath came in slow gasps, his fist remaining wrapped around himself but loosening slowly as the pressure that was packed inside of him drained, but he didn't let go. He just cradled himself, lazily palming over his deflating length before cupping his twitching balls in his palm, not wanting to end the contact yet.

On his monitor, your body was coming down too. The machine had gradually slowed to a stop not long after you'd came, your thighs parted lazily with your hair a mess over your shoulder, a few stray strands glued to your forehead from sweat. You let the vibrator buzz you through it for a few moments longer before clicking it off with a quiet tick.

He lifted his weak, aching arm to his keyboard to type a final tip of £80, a goodbye and a thank you in one, and he sent it, pressing his lips together as he carelessly tossed his cum-filled tissue in the general direction of his overflowing bin in the corner of his room.

You smiled weakly at the camera, and the spent look on your devastatingly beautiful face made his heart stutter. You blew a kiss to the camera before saying, your voice sweet and airy, “Thank you for tonight, my babies… see you soon.”

And with that, the stream ended, his screen going black, and he was stranded again. The static hum of his computer fan filled the void, his chest sticky and thighs damp, his jaw aching and his wrist sore.

The sticky sheen of his precum began to dry on his belly, leaving an itchy discomfort behind, and he shifted in his chair, the cracked leather creaking and squeaking as he slowly dragged himself up.

He had a video call with you tomorrow. Just him and you, alone, like it should be. That thought gave him a flicker of something that resembled hope, gave him motivation to just make it until tomorrow. No tip notifications, no chat cluttered with usernames from the other men he despised so much. In his world, it was peaceful.

He forced himself up like a puppet on frayed strings as his stomach gave a low, hollow growl, nagging him for something more than a stale cheese sandwich that he'd eaten around ten hours ago at that point, and he remembered his dinner that he'd left in the microwave.

It was some pasta dish he'd found in the ‘quick and easy’ meal section at the shop, discounted as it approached its use-by date. He'd tossed it into the microwave at around quarter to eight, figuring he'd have enough time to eat it before you went live, but as the minutes ticked by and 8PM dragged nearer, he'd resorted to scarfing down half of a cereal bar as he rushed from the kitchen back to his room, leaving the pasta in the microwave.

He couldn't miss the stream. He couldn't even be late. He had to be on time, had to be the first.

The overpowering, closing odour of something stale left in his sink invaded his nostrils as he slowly stepped over to it, flicking on the tap and rinsing his slick, sticky hands underneath it.

He didn't bother to reheat the pasta, just opened the door of the microwave and pulled the plastic container out, the edges cold and the centre lukewarm, and he shuffled into the other room to his couch.

He sunk into the stained cushions as the old springs whined in protest beneath him. He chewed like a robot, able to complete the programmed motion, but that was about it. Every mouthful tasted like cardboard, and it didn't help that he didn't even like this kind of pasta. It was cheap, easy, and wouldn't take too much effort out of his drained stamina. It wasn't like he could afford much better, anyway. Any money he had, he spent it on you, whether it was buying you new lingerie, purchasing video calls and custom videos, or just sending tips.

He only managed to eat half of it before his appetite shrunk, the congealed pasta sitting heavy in his gut. He placed the plastic atop the mountain of clutter piled on his coffee table before he stood awkwardly, his bones creaking and clacking under his movements. He padded barefoot back to his bedroom, back to his desk, already half-erect again, like a pavlovian reflex at just the thought of coming back to you.

The dim, darkened glow of his screen on your profile that he hadn't clicked off welcomed him, the screen blinking back to brightness as he nudged his mouse. He sat back in his chair, letting it cradle him like always as his cursor hovered on his screen before he dragged it over to his files with a quiet shuffle of his mouse.

He clicked open his folders, scrolling through the dozens of file names before opening the one titled ‘favourites’.

He scrolled through with a whir of his mouse, before finding what he wanted. The feet. It made him feel weird. Not ashamed, and not entirely embarrassed, just exposed. He didn’t like admitting that he liked it. When he asked for it the first time, he buried it beneath a long paragraph about just being curious and experimenting with different and new kinks, as if it hadn't been the only thing he'd jerked to for the past few weeks.

You hadn't judged him for it, instead, you said he was cute for asking. He hated that word. It had no business being a connotation of him. He'd rewatched that video a dozen times the same night you sent it back to him, his breathing shallow and laboured, one hand gripped desperately around himself while the other stroked up and down the arch of your foot on his screen like it was real.

He clicked on a random video, and there you were. Perched on your bed as gorgeous as ever with your legs stretched and toes pointed, and his eyes fell onto your soles and the soft pads of your toes and how they flexed when you shifted a little. “I know you like this, Al… bet you'd love to suck them, hm?” your voice seeped through like honey.

He'd always asked you to just call him Alex or Al. He didn't like when you called him ‘baby’ too often, he liked when it felt personal.

He felt a slow stirring in his lower belly, like waving a hand through a fog of smoke, but he didn't touch himself again that night, just sat in his chair, silent, staring at the thumbnail long after the clip had come to an end.

He powered down his monitor with a slow sigh, and the room felt hollow, empty, as if it hadn't been the whole time. The slow whir of his computer shutting off filled the silence before he willed himself to get up, joints creaking and popping, his bare thighs peeling from the artificial leather on his seat.

He turned to his bed, which was an old mattress pushed up against the wall, his bedsheets crumpled and discoloured. They were grey, not by design but instead by age. Once white, pristine and soft, now dull, torn and worn thin, with stains and marks he didn't want to identify, and made no effort to.

The duvet was perpetually twisted beneath the cover, and one of the pillows had no case at all, the yellowing fabric on full display.

He was still nude, still sweaty, still greasy, but he crawled into his bed like a mole returning to its burrow. He shuffled into the slight dent in his mattress, formed from sleeping in the same spot every night, and he turned on his side, curling in on himself like a woodlouse.

His sheets were stiff with old sweat, and a faint ring of grease lingered on his pillow where his head had been for far too many nights without washing either it or himself.

He woke up the next morning, groggy and blinking away the sleep that had crusted in the corners of his eyes, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the morning light infiltrating the room from underneath his drawn curtains. He tossed his head to the side, his eyes blurry as he managed to make out what the clock on his “bedside” table read. 11:13AM. His video call was scheduled for 12PM.

He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, his breath tasting sour against his teeth and a layer of sweat clung to his skin, but he was awake and had something to look forward to.

He got up with a long, low groan as his back adjusted to being straightened, his joints aching from how little he'd been moving, and he wandered into his kitchen, making his way over rogue piles of laundry and discarded rubbish.

He opened his fridge, the hinges whining, and he grabbed the milk, twisting the cap open to give it a sniff, and he wrinkled his nose and winced before putting it back.

He assessed his mostly empty fridge before deciding to settle on another cereal bar, tearing the wrapper open and tossing it aside before trudging back to his room, chewing on a mouthful of the stale oats.

He sat on his chair, the peeling cushion huffing beneath him, and he logged onto his computer before opening your page. He glanced down at the corner of his screen to check the time, 11:24AM.

He opened a new tab and began to scroll aimlessly to fill the time. Twitter, PornHub, Reddit, just trying to make the time go by faster. His body didn't yearn for release the way it had the day before, but his nerves buzzed low in his groin, along with his anticipation and hunger.

He checked the time again, 11:43AM, and he stood up with no real aim, wandering around his small room in circles like an animal in a cage. He paused by the window, peeking through a gap in his curtains, and he looked down on the citizens and cars below. They all had places to go, people to see, things to do. They all had a life. He didn't want to think about that.

He turned and crossed his room to the drawers tucked into one side of his desk, and he opened the middle one. It was crammed full of miscellaneous items that he was too embarrassed to have out, even though no one came by anymore. Lube, wet wipes, hand lotion, and a purple t-shirt.

It was yours, or at least, he liked to think so. He liked to pretend. He'd ordered it for himself after seeing you wear it in a custom video months ago.

He closed his eyes and held it up to his face, breathing in deeply. There was a faint scent of lavender interlaced into the fabric from an air freshener he'd bought in a half-hearted attempt at kickstarting sorting his life out. Or at least, that's what he remembered. He had trouble with his memory as of late.

He sat back down, draping the shirt over his bare lap just to imagine, to feel closer to you.

His eyes flicked down to the small clock in the corner again. 11:56AM. His fingers hovered over the mouse once more, watching the seconds tick by, growing into minutes, then at 12PM on the dot, his screen blinked, and a soft chime echoed through his speakers. Words popped up on his screen about an incoming private video call, but he barely registered them before clicking the enticing green button that would let him connect. The loading circle spun slowly, taunting him, until the video feed blossomed to life.

You appeared on his screen, dressed in a deep blue satin mini dress, trimmed with a sheer lace of the same colour, and he let out a quiet, mildly embarrassing gasp. You smiled, just a small curl of the corners of your mouth, and you purred, “Hi, Alex… I've been waiting for this one.”

His camera was off, like always, just a black screen where his camera would be, but you didn't mind. His microphone was on, but he didn't speak, not trusting the sound that would come out of his tight throat. Instead, he typed, the clack of his keyboard audible to you, Hello, followed by, I love that set.

You adjusted your position, leaning forward in a way that accentuated your cleavage deliciously, looking into the camera in a way that made him want to cry. Or cum. Or both. “Mmh, you bought this one for me, didn't you?”

He watched, his body entirely still save for the involuntary twitch of his fingers as he rested one hand on his thigh. “Are you hard for me already, Al?” you asked, your voice like sugar as it filled his ears.

He let out a soft, shaky and shallow breath, his mic just barely picking it up, before he typed, Very, then, I've been thinking about this for days.

You trailed your fingers down your collarbone. “I know, my baby… I love when I see your name on the schedule. It always makes me wet, Alex.”

He exhaled at that, his chest tightening and his skin prickling with a wave of goosebumps ebbing over his body. His fingers idly played with the hem of the shirt draped over his lap, and just as he was about to type another message, you spoke again.

“What do you want today, sweetheart?”

He bit his lower lip. He knew exactly what he wanted, what wound him up and made him cum harder than anything else, but it was always a little humiliating asking for it, despite how many times you'd enabled him by now. You heard his heavy breathing before he typed slowly before sending, Feet pls.

You let out a small breath of laughter, but not to mock or tease him. You curled one leg over the other, angling your body just right before you brought your foot up into frame, and he let out a quiet moan.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, already leaking, and he stroked slowly but steadily, the soft, wet squelch obscene in his otherwise quiet flat.

You rubbed your hand along the arch of your sole like an art form, moaning something about how he makes you so horny, and he gasped, ugly and breathless, his legs trembling as his hand moved faster.

He typed slowly, one-handedly, They look so soft.

You smiled, pressing your arches together and curling your toes before running your fingertips along the delicate sides. You looked into the camera as you repositioned yourself, murmuring, “Wish I could touch you with these, Al… you want that, baby?”

He whined, bucking his hips up into his fist, and he knew he wasn't going to last nearly as long as he had the day before. He typed a quick, So bad, before pressing his lips together, trying to stifle the moans that just kept pouring out of his mouth.

His chair squeaked beneath his bare skin as he rocked into his palm, and you stretched both of your legs out, both of your feet now in the frame, and he let out a choked whine, unable to control the noises spilling out of his lips.

His shaft twitched and spasmed uncontrollably in his palm, and he whimpered, the sound making him cringe internally, even in his pleasure-oriented haze. He knew he must've sounded revolting, so wheezy and desperate, but he didn't care.

You bit your lower lip, your feet filling his monitor screen, and he babbled, unable to control himself, “Gonna… fuck- gonna cum-”

“Good boy…” you whispered, curling your toes in front of the camera, “Come on, right now… for me, Al.”

He couldn't take it anymore. He came with a broken grunt, splattering all over the shirt he'd draped over his lap, his thighs twitching and stiffening beneath the soft fabric as his orgasm ripped through him like a detonation. He moaned your name as he jerked himself through the waves, and you smiled softly, not cruel, nor mocking or judgemental, just warm. Sweet.

His eyes fluttered shut as he wrung the final droplets of his cum out of his tip, panting heavily as he brought himself down. He didn't want to open his eyes. He knew that when he did, he'd look down at the little clock, see that it's only a few minutes until the end of his session, and he just wanted to save himself the harrowing disappointment.

Your voice cut through his orgasm-induced haze softly, like a hot knife through butter, as you murmured, “You've been such a good boy for me today, Aly…”

He reluctantly peeled his eyes open at the sound of your soft voice, his eyes darting down to the small clock in the corner. 12:19PM. He frowned, his chest tightening, and he peeled his hand off of his cock to type a quick, Love you, in the chat box.

You smiled and blew a kiss to the camera. “See you next time, love.”

And just like that, the window closed, and he was left alone again, staring blankly at his desktop background, a wide, empty field with a bright blue sky.

He looked down at his lap, the fan from his computer filling the dull silence, and he saw the mess he'd made of the t-shirt. He sighed and reached for a tissue from his bashed-up box to wipe up the worst of it with slow, lazy, mechanical movements.

He let the shirt fall from his knees, crumpling on the floor around his feet, and then he just sat there, staring at nothing, letting the loneliness roll in like a tide at dawn.

His chair groaned beneath him like a rusty hinge as he leaned back as far as his achy back allowed him to, his cock soft and deflated against his thigh, and he opened up your page again, scrolling through old streams, and he sighed, a stiff throb settling heavy in his chest, curled up behind his ribs as he held onto your last soft words, that kiss you blew, and he let himself believe that you really wanted him, just as much as he needed you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚₊✩｡˚☽

what are your opinions on lemon flavoured/scented things? i absolutely cannot stand them no matter how sweet they're made they're always so sour to me, but i have a friend who absolutely loves it and she's got lemon everything in her house 😭 i can never bring myself to go to hers. and i think people who have lemon on pancakes should be executed. also part four to my other fic will be the next one i post im sorry it's been so long!!!!!!!!

[crispyanonartnsfw]

It stood the test of enough commutes, so here it is !! A Sambastian Mixtape

If the comic idea was a TV series (pffft), this would be the soundtrack, so the songs are in chronological order. The lyrics are pretty on the nose but in case you're curious I break it down below

(I made this playlist for myself because I would like to draw the comic someday... Maybe one day... For now, I only have the music lol)

These are the first and the last song of each section for reference. I'll stay superficial bc you don't need to know the depths of my brainrot, just know that the songs are mostly either from Sam or Seb POV, few of them from other's characters POVs, and in the second half are mostly shared POV. I tried to keep all the songs in what I think are their vibes but sometimes my hand slipped for the sake of the plot I had in my head not me putting Lorde and LDR in a Sambastian playlist

✶ Ribs - Lorde ⏭ Cigarette Daydreams - Cage The Elephant

Sam and Sebastian are in their teens, they grew up attached to the hip and figured they always will be. Sebastian lightheartedly realizes there might be something more, which could be true for Sam as well if he wasn't half unaware half in denial because that's not how things are supposed to go. Surely he just loves his best friend so much and it's nothing more complicated then that! Right?? But Seb's feelings slowly become heavier and that mixed with the fact that he refuses to accept help for anything from anyone starts to strain the relationship as time passes.

✶ Let it happen - Tame Impala ⏭ Somewhere only we know - Keane

Bad times. Seb is depressed and it doesn't help that Sam and his savior complex are dating Penny (and they are actually good for each other for a while). Sebastian retaliates with Alex, something that Sam disapproves because he was one of his bullies (PSA: my boy Alex is not a villain!! just closeted young and struggling). Is it protectiveness or jealousy? That's between him and god. Much general angst when you add severe growing pains and bad mental health to a broken heart. They end up taking time apart and not seeing each other again. It's hard.

✶ If I ever feel better - Phoenix ⏭ Simple Song - The Shins

Healing hours 🖤 They really needed to work on themselves first and foremost. They figure out stuff, Sebastian fixes his relationship with Maru, Sam is finally honest with himself about his own issues. Friends help. Eventually, they meet again. They easily fit right back together and tentatively work out their feelings.

✶ Read My Mind - The Killers ⏭ Here It Goes Again - OK Go

It's Goblin Destroyer time!! Sam, Seb and Abby are living in Zuzu city, playing concerts, fighting the system, breaking the rules and having the time of their lives. Questionable decisions never looked so good (Peak ASS trio energy btw). Chaos and euphoria ensue. Everything seems perfect until-

✶ Social Cues - Cage The Elephant ⏭ Good Riddance (Time of your life) - Green Day

Why no one told them you never stop figuring shit out in life? Age 30 crisis. Goblin Destroyer are over. They wonder about what direction to take with their lives, and everything seems bittersweet. This time though, they are together, and that makes it all possible - and bearable. They did it before and they'll do it again, they're going to be alright.

✶ Everlong - Foo Fighters ⏭ Praise You - Fatboy Slim

When you've already spent a lifetime together, something very special inevitably takes form. I was thinking about their new timeskipped vibe once they get older and lose the dumbass energy (at least some of it) in favor of a deeper devotion (Hi Hozier). I might keep adding to this. This part is not chronological, truly just Sambastian basking in their love and celebrating everything they've accomplished

(and I'm just an old sap, byeeee)

By the way it's crispy talking: I had to take out several songs that were a bit too freaky lol, that would be a different playlist, also Body Talks is fully about @lily-alphonse 's Lonely Dancers fic, I had to include it 😇

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[doomedandstoned]

Doors To No Where Drop Rowdy Grunge-Punk-Desert Spinner ‘Darkness Falls’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Before us is the latest record from Santa Cruz heavies DOORS TO NO WHERE, a band new to these pages but which has played alongside many of our favorite West Coast acts, including KooK, Worship, and Year of the Cobra. As May is Mental Health Awareness month, it's good timing to be introduced to 'Darkness Falls' (2021). "This came to me during the pandemic," says frontman Marc Lewis. "I was watching so many folks struggling from all walks of life. Struggle isn’t biased -- it can hit anyone."

The album lyrically was a concept album in a way on the topic of mental health and its impact. I'm truly passionate about this and want it not to be such a taboo thing to talk about or seen as a sign of weakness.

Composed during the pandemic's most clutching moments and recorded with Aaron Cooper of Pylon Productions, the album features longtime collaborators Marc Lewis (guitar, vox), Marc Prefontaine (bass), and Pete Testorff (drums).

"Lie, Lie, Lie," dashes off to a furious Foo Fighters pace as we begin the record, with Pete Testorff's fervor and panache paving the way for Marc Lewis to deliver the three word chorus with all the snarl of a man who just wants to break his rusty chains and run.

"The riff in Lie, Lie, Lie," Marc tells Doomed & Stoned, "was written off something I heard Pete doing one night during sound check. He was playing his whole kit and then doing those snare hits you hear at the beginning of the song."

There's some nice give-and-take between Marc Lewis' guitar and Marc Prefontaine's bass that betwixt the introduction and chorus. I didn't pick it up at first listen, but it definitely grabbed me the next several spins through.

The grungy lyrics match the pissed-off spirit of the music, as the song mourns the loss of a common reference denominator for truth, warning that in its absence there is division, calamity, and ruin. "Together we rise, together we fall." Marc amplifies these powerful moments for us:

This track centers around the idea of false power and how someone could start to believe their own lies and self-hype, while others could fall for it. It can become a toxic relationship or even a cult kind of thing.

It may be hard to remember this far into this surreal "pause" in our world's history, but we too were afraid, alone, and angry for much of the pandemic's wake -- especially in those uncertain early moments when we followed the spread of this strange disease from China to Italy and onto the shores of Seattle and New York.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

The aptly named "Fade" comes next, presenting at a doom's crawl with a sombre arpeggiated motif that summons the spirit of Trouble and Saint Vitus. Or you might hear a twisted, doomed-up variation of Metallica's "Enter The Sandman" in that low-end omen. "Fade was built of the rolling riff and bend," Marc explains. "I wanted it fat and raunchy." Certainly Pale Divine and Dirty Grave come to mind as I seek to match the mood with bands of similar spirit.

Then comes the pained chorus: "Run, run baby," which Marc illuminates in a very personal light:

"Fade" is about a friend of mine who is no longer with us. She was a larger than life personality that was loved by all. She played the personna and role of the happy-go-lucky person. She thought that's why people loved her and why they were friends. She was actually really struggling with mental health and depression though. She would behave in a way that she thought people wanted her to behave, while she was actually suffering. Those around her did not realize her pain or that their influence was making things worse. For years she would self-medicate with drugs and alcohol and that was celebrated by those around her.

I had started to see signs of her pain and tried to reach out. Unfortunately, I was too late. Any time anyone would reach out for help, she would disappear. The chorus line “disappearing one” is a reference to her pushing away and hiding from help. When she passed (sucide) everyone spoke of how special she was and how much they loved her. I was angry and sad. Why didn't more folks try and help her? My perspective was that coddling her addictions and self-medicated escape helped her to the grave.

The lyrics “We all love to see you fade, but don’t you go away” and “We all love to see you soar, but don’t you fade away” are references to the idea that sometimes humans are selfish in their relationships. Meaning that someone may give me the attention and things I need without me being aware of the sacrifices the other person is making.

"Worship The Machine" is another hefty doomer, with some wild guitar noodling contrasted against a rhythm that is quite machine-like as it dances stoically along its predestined chordal path. "Worship The Machine was written to be heavy and groovy," the band notes. "We wanted it to have a certain feel that pushed hard, while still having that chugging along kinda vibe." Closing in on the three-minute mark, Pete turns loose on the drums like a man possessed and the intensity continues when the rest of the band joins in, taking us right across the finish line to a crashing conclusion.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

"I wanna live, but I'm dying" are words I can certainly relate to, not just in 2020, but in 2021, where the lingering impact of such a global (and personal) disruption is still very much a struggle on the daily. Turns out, my intuition was not far from the lyrical intent: "This song is all about the addiction to social media and how it corresponds with one's self esteem, mood, and self-worth. The social media world has become this giant machine and some are literally addicted to it. It creates this tool of status. I think it has truly impacted how people feel about themselves and others."

"Got Mine" is up next and this one is the most punkish track yet. It reminds me a lot of Soundgarden's periodic forays into punk, with songs like "Nazi Driver," "Never Named," and "Kickstand." On this point, Marc is clear: "Got Mine is influenced by the fact that I love old punk rock. I love the energy and the attitude. We wanted it to be loose but with tight stops and control." As to its meaning, we're told:

This song is about a revolution with the main character being selfish and self serving. So the character is done with the revolution or fight once their needs and wants are met. They are not really looking out for the cause or to tackle bigger issues for the good of humanity. They are actually looking for what is best for them. The chorus refers to a cold heart and lack of empathy.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

All you lovers of southern sludge will dig "Policy" with its Goatsnake meets Acid Bath groove and sassy guitar lead. Speaking of Soundgarden, I really dig the Kim Thayilesque breakdown and stinging solo two-minutes in, though some may draw parallels with Crowbar here. These are all, of course, points of reference to try to do the near impossible: put the emotional experience of one listener (e.g. yours truly) into words. In the end, it's up to you to listen and find a favorite of your own. For my money, "Policy" is where it's at. Check out the fantastic dual guitar interplay two-and-a-half minutes in! Down, eat your heart out.

"Policy" is another riff I wrote to play off of a groove I heard Pete do during warm ups. It's got a swing to it but punches hard. Almost a heartbeat if you will. The solo was a direct result of playing the drums.

This track touches on letting toxic people go from your life. At what point do you stop investing in someone's negative energy? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. It is the idea of surrounding yourself with people that want you to be the best version of yourself.

Up next: "Who Died", which summons all of the band's talents. Beginning with bursts of rapid-fire guitar picking set against a zombie-like beat and chorus, the song has something of a swampy feel. "I won't follow you!" Mr. Lewis shouts defiantly. I wasn't sure where the song would progress from there, and almost thought it was concluded at the false stop barely two-and-a-half minutes in. But the song rallies and the band pulls out its full force, with what sounds like the addition of the synth to present a layered effect that amplifies the intensity. I think this could have been developed even further, but sometimes brevity is the most appropriate option for a song.

"Who Died" was written off the chorus and intro. Zeppelin kinda riff. It's all about feel and giving the riffs room to breathe. This track is about the concept of thinking for yourself and not being an easy victim of mental or physical abuse.

The reverberating echoes of organ-sounding keyboards greet as "New Monster" takes its place next. We get our footing pretty quickly with a kind of "We Will Rock You" bass motif, but the song gets stranger and stranger as the seconds tick off. As with the previous track, there is a sudden atmospheric shift accompanied by furious strumming and ending on the swirling guitar theme we started with.

"Here we are, same ol' thing, round and round, 'ever again...I wanna run, I wanna breathe, I wanna live." This is, for me, perhaps the most relatable song on the record, lyrically speaking. This one especially gave off strong Prong vibes with its strong vocal lead, robust drumming, strong bass play, and industrial guitar feel.

"New Monster" was written in isolation and was originally an acoustic song. Even though the tempo is upbeat it's a dark and murky riff. We wanted the end out of the breakdown to hit hard. I imagine it building like a wave in the ocean.

Another track focusing on mental health with the idea of perseverance and to keep fighting, "New Monster" is the idea of not being perfect is actually perfect. We are all just floating on a giant rock in space and going through this thing called life together.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

At last, we reach the record's namesake "Darkness Falls" -- the gem of this eight-pronged crown of thorns. I've always thought it was a great name. Darkness Falls is also the title of a 2003 movie about a malevolent tooth fairy, though I see no compelling reason to connect the film with either the song or record. I may not be too far off the mark, as Marc Lewis explains:

This concept came to me during the pandemic. I was watching so many folks struggling. All walks of life were struggling. Struggle isn’t biased and can hit anyone. “Please, please shine for me” and “Please, please glow again” reflect on how badly I wanted things to be better. For things to be ok. How I wanted those I love to be happy, safe and loved.

As it stands, Doors To No Where does a superior job of fleshing out the notion of "Darkness Falls" than previous contenders in any medium. The song stirs up a smokey, mysterious Near-Eastern ambience. Four minutes in and it's confirmed: there is indeed a synthesizer at play on Darkness Falls but its hypnotic effect in this song is interrupted by a screaming riffstorm and a gut full of churning bass. This song would make a great companion to "What The Hell Have I" by Alice in Chains. It also pairs well with Portland band A//TAR, whose metaphysical music we've also debuted in these pages.

"Darkness Falls" is special for another reason: Bob Balch of Fu Manchu and Big Scenic Nowhere was a guest on the album closer. "Him and I worked together on the track," Marc reflects. "He is a pro's pro and added so much to the vibe of the song. His playing and tone are phenomenal.

The new album Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where releases to the public on Friday, May 21st via Desert Records (pre-order here). This is its world premiere c/o Doomed and Stoned.

Give ear...

Doors To No Where · DARKNESS FALLS

Some Buzz

Featuring Marc Lewis (Guitars/Vocals), Pete Testorff (Drums) and Marc Prefontaine (Bass). Doors To No Where have been making music since 2010. Their sound is heavily influenced by Santa Cruz and the local beauty it offers along with the rich history of music. Doors To No Where have been called a stoner rock band but also touch on elements of punk, doom, metal and even grunge.

Growing up on a skateboard and surfing has played a huge part on the influences of the sounds Doors To No Where like to include.

The band has toured in and been honored to share the stage with bands like, Mondo Generator, Fatso Jetson, Fu Manchu, The Melvins and many more.

Doors To No Where will be releasing 'Darkness Falls' (2021) via Desert Records on May 21st 2021. The fourth studio album features eight tracks and a special guest appearance from Bob Balch (Fu Manchu). Staying true to their roots, 'Darkness Falls' is a combination of desert rock and punk influences. The band tracked and recorded the album in the unusual quarantine times of Covid-19.

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[gunsforeyes]

what your favorite jojo says about you

jonathan: youre probably straight, but not in a bad way. you for sure watched toonami as a kid and your tastes run toward the classic. you love castlevania. youre either a gentleman or you think youre a gentleman while actually being insufferable and condescending. one of the loudest campaigners against part skipping. did you notice the les miserables reference in part 1? i thought that was a cute nod 

joseph: you might also be straight, but youre probably an ally. either a himbo or obsessed with them. you miss hamon and you think things got too complicated after part 2 but you loved when kars turned his hand into a squirrel. i think youre probably nice if Intensely energetic. my advice to you is not to defend the nazi. we wont think less of you if you like part 2 as long as you dont pretend that part was ok 

jotaro: god you are a mess of issues. im sorry. a good chance youre gay but either way youre definitely smart enough to know that jotaro is. you think jjba didnt really get good until part 3 and you tell anyone who will listen how jotaro has tons of depth, actually, and really DOES express his emotions, its just super subtle and you have to pay close attention. you do pretend that the polnareff baby arc didnt happen though. i hope. you think the height of fashion is a half-hat and who am i to tell you youre wrong? 

josuke: youre Definitely gay. if you think youre straight, just give it a few years. you think villains should be dumb as fuck and hilarious and you *publizity voice* love to have fun. you really just want to see people have a good time and you dont like really heavy sad stuff. you want things to turn out ok and everyone to survive and be friends and i think youre probably very sweet. do you think mikitaka was really an alien? i think so

giorno: youre either gay or you know you are but youre desperately pretending youre straight. be true to yourself, buddy. you know exactly which one was the true jobro, bruno or mista, and you can cite your argument with sources. definitely a big dio fan and you were hoping so bad he would somehow show up at some point. so was i :( you Love italy to a fanatical degree whether youve been there or not. part 5 had the best fucking theme of all time so congrats on that. my advice is remember giorno is like 15 and dont be weird about it

jolyne: youre for sure a lesbian and more powerful than any of us. you understand the last half of part 6 perfectly and i hope youll explain it to us one day. youre definitely pissed annasui got genderswapped in the middle of the story. youre singlehandedly keeping the jolyne/hermes and jolyne/hermes/foo fighters economy afloat. you dress like a maniac but i admire your bravery

johnny: you are so thankful for some good fucking character development finally. you either love america or you hate it and youre glad its leader was the worst god damn villain in fictional history. youve got some repressed anger and resentment issues and you think jjba was cool but didnt REALLY hit its stride until part 7 and you thought this dio was a massive improvement over the old one. and youre gay. but like. duh

gappy: ...who are you? ive never met you. youre a pure soul and you are too wise and good for this world. i would love to study you. youre bi

[ikesenhell]

Reunion

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 3. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Thanks to @missjudge-me for commissioning this! As always, I’m calling @a-shout-to-the-void IEYASU out in my work. 

---

Neither of them wanted to stop for the night, so they didn't. “It’s only, what, one day of straight driving?” He’d reasoned. She took over the Camaro and he snoozed in the passenger seat, lulled to sleep by ‘Journey of the Sorcerer’ by the Eagles humming under the droning road. Light streamed golden-orange through the windshield when he woke. 

“Hey there, sleepy,” she murmured. “Want some coffee?”

Masamune grunted assent, stretching out. “Fuck, it used to be a lot easier to sleep in the car.”

“We all used to be a lot younger.”

That was true. Still road-tired, he lolled his head to the side and rested it on her arm. She was warm and solid, scented like spices, the warm fabric of her flannel cushioning his forehead. Unbidden, he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her every day. 

Maryland was bright and sunny. They reached Ieyasu’s house around five a.m., a quaint, brick rancher in the outskirts of Baltimore. One very awake Mitsunari let them in (“I still haven’t recovered from jet lag and Tanzania’s time zone—hello!”) and they crashed in a heap on the plush grey couch. By noon, he woke to banging in the nearby kitchen. 

“Mitsunari, I said put that away, not dump it on the tiles—”

“—I’m so sorry, let me clean it up—”

“No! I don’t trust you with the damn broom, go sit down or find a turnip field and bury yourself in it again, clearly you’re underripe—”

Just like old times. Masamune grunted and rolled off the couch. She still napped on the other end, buried in decorative pillows and a blanket. “‘Yasu?”

Sure enough, the blonde peered grumpily from the nearby kitchen, dustpan in hand. Against the canary yellow walls, his green eyes were piercing. “Great, now you’re up. Now I have to deal with two idiots staggering around my kitchen.”

“Great to see you again, too. What’s going on?”

Mitsunari sheepishly set a tin on the counter. “I spilled green tea everywhere.”

“That was my fault,” Ieyasu groused. “I’m the idiot who forgot about Mitsunari’s inability to hold things. I can’t believe I forgot. Two years, and I went forgetting. What a wonderful two years it was, too.”

Either the other man didn't get the hint, or he looked straight past Ieyasu’s barbed tongue to the affection deep below the surface. “It was fun, getting to write you and send you pictures. You kept me very up to date.”

Masamune crowed with laughter, making his way to the refrigerator to poke around. “Did he now?”

Ears flaming, Ieyasu ducked behind the counter and scraped the scattered leaves from the tile. “He’s the only one who knows where the hell to find half of the reference books I needed for medical school and where to pirate them—”

“I swear Mitsuhide knows how to do that.”

Ieyasu didn't respond. Instead he dumped the leaves into the garbage. “Well, are you gonna stand out there and run your mouth, or should we get a move on and go to the grocery store while she’s still asleep? I figured we’d need some stuff before the others get here.”

Peering over the doorway with a bottle of orange juice, Masamune frowned. “Others?”

“Well, yeah, dumbass. You really didn't think we weren’t gonna get the other guys down here for a visit, did you?”

“On such short notice?”

Ieyasu froze, eyes wide and searching, desperately avoiding Masamune’s gaze. “I mean—can’t—are you the only person allowed to make spur of the moment choices?”

But Masamune turned his eyes slowly over to Mitsunari, finally understanding. “I’m pretty sure the Kitten and I weren’t the catalyst for inviting the others over…”

“I—no.” 

“Hey, Mitsun.” Masamune overrode the stuttering Ieyasu. “Was it your idea to come here?”

Mitsunari glanced up from his mug of tea. “No, Ieyasu kindly offered his house when he learned I was coming back.”

“Listen,” Ieyasu managed. “Listen, that disaster is our responsibility now. We can’t just pawn him off on the unsuspecting public.” 

“Right.” Grinning, Masamune swigged from the bottle of orange juice (ignoring Ieyasu’s annoyance) and shunted it back into the refrigerator. “Well, if the old crew is getting back together tonight, you’re damn right. Let’s get to the store.”

---

She was awake when they all came back, laden down with (“Entirely too fucking many,” Ieyasu complained) groceries. Her hair was slick from the shower, cheeks shiny with moisture and flushed from recent sleep. Masamune switched all his bags to one arm and pulled her in by the waist. 

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.” He punctuated it with a kiss on her forehead. 

“Let me live.” Swatting him away, she grinned. “And you’ll never guess who I just let in—”

“Masamune!”

“God,” Ieyasu deadpanned, hoisting his bags onto the countertop. “Just letting strangers into my house.”

Mitsuhide chuckled, stirring some thick, soupy concoction in a glass. Masamune dreaded what it might be. “I’m strange?”

“Yes. Is this a trick question?”

“Good to see you again, brother.” Masamune fist bumped the other man. He hadn’t changed; if anything, age only accented the weirdest parts of him. It seemed like every year, Mitsuhide got lankier and more ethereal, white eyelashes too long to be human. 

“Ieyasu.” Nobunaga rounded the corner, holding aloft an opened container of protein powder. That explained the mysterious substance in Mitsuhide’s glass. “This stuff tastes like ass.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes. “So you’ve tasted ass?”

Both Mitsuhide and Nobunaga cocked a mild brow. “Yes?”

“God damn, I didn't want to know—”

“It’s a popular request,” Mitsunari chimed in, shutting the garage door behind him. “It’s grown in popularity over the last—”

“What are we talking about?!” Hideyoshi emerged from the hall bathroom, wringing his wet hands and looking utterly alarmed. 

“No!” Ieyasu cupped his hands over his ears and fled to the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t want to hear any more from anyone about eating ass!”

Time was kind to them. Nobunaga had grown into the imperious smile he’d always worn, eyes flashing sharp over a long nose. Hideyoshi still possessed all of his world-weary charm, the faintest crease between his eyebrows. “New York is treating you guys alright, huh?” Masamune asked, planting himself on a barstool. 

“Of course,” Nobunaga laughed. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Dunno. Figured that Hideyoshi might have an aneurysm about the subway system by now.”

Apparently he’d hit a nerve. Hideyoshi strangled the air. “Why is the L train always down—?”

“Alright!” She swept in, clasping Hideyoshi’s hands in hers, grinning like the summer in full bloom. The effect was immediate; all the other men relaxed, lounging around the kitchen. How did she do that? Masamune knew she was talking (her mouth was moving), but the words floated away. Hideyoshi looked so soft in her grip. God, he hoped Hideyoshi didn't try anything with her. 

Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Earth to Masa.” Ieyasu waved a hand. “Did you hear anything?”

“Nah. Wasn’t listening. What’s up?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “I literally asked if you wanted to make burgers for the bonfire tonight.”

“Bonfire?” Mitsuhide smiled. “That sounds excellent.”

“No lighting anything on fire like last time,” Hideyoshi warned, his shoulders tensing again. “You almost burned down the house with Nobunaga inside!”

“I assure you, that wasn’t my fault. Would that you believed me.”

“Well who the fuck else was watching the fire—”

“If you two are gonna fight, I’m just gonna…” Masamune rolled up his sleeves and plucked her from the floor, flinging her over his shoulders. “Borrow the kitten as my personal assistant tonight. How about that?”

“We’ll get the firewood together then.” Nobunaga waved him off. “And let you two to it.”

Hideyoshi hovered still. “Do you need any help? I’m not a master chef or anything, but I can be a pair of hands.”

Masamune almost took him up on it. But then she pulled back her hair—a long, languid movement that showed the curve of her back—and he shook his head. “Nah. We’ll manage. You go do things about, like, fire safety.”

That was the magic sentence. Those hazel eyes went large, and Hideyoshi nodded, purpose renewed. “You’re right. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Just like that, the two of them were alone again. She tittered and slid the bag of golden potatoes to him. “Need these peeled, chef?”

“Nah. Just washed. Throw on some tunes, would you?”

Her grin should have warned him, but he still wasn’t prepared for Neon Trees to echo in the kitchen. Masamune grinned and slapped the ground beef onto the cutting board. “What a fucking throwback. Is that Habits?”

“Yeah!” She dumped all of the potatoes in the sink. “Do you remember dancing to this in the car?”

Did he ever. They used to take Hideyoshi’s hand-me-down mom van (the only car that would fit all of them) out to the Oda Family property on the river, parking it in the field and lounging on blow up mattresses they’d pooled for at Target. Everything played on those busted car speakers: Neon Trees, old Panic! At the Disco, Chevelle, Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, Radiohead, Foo Fighters. Mitsuhide tricked Mitsunari and her into jumping in the water one night, and she was so mad and wet that Masamune stripped off all his clothes and put them on her, riding home in his boxers. 

“Yeah,” Masamune laughed. “I don’t think I ever got my pants back from you.”

“You got the pants back. I never gave you your hoodie back, though.”

“Shit, you’re right. Whatever happened to it?”

She hesitated over the sink, a funny, strangled smile on her mouth. “I turned it into a pillow.”

He froze. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Put it over a throw and tied the edges. I had it on my bed all the way through college.”

“Where is it now?”

She shrugged. After a long moment, she chuckled. “Would you judge me if I said I still had it?”

“No.” It wasn’t like him to stop, but he’d stopped, knife poised, a head of garlic ready for mincing and hands still. What did that mean? Savage pleasure surged in his stomach and he couldn’t place why. He’d always been protective of her. Right? Was that it? Just some misplaced neurons firing? “Not really, Kitten, no. I’m alright with that.” A beat. “It probably doesn’t fit me anymore anyway, you know? Might as well stay a pillow.”

Still she didn't look his way. Instead, she grabbed her phone and flipped on Caramelldansen, and he roared with laughter. “Hell!” 

As a unit, they flung down their utensils and danced. Adult bodies were different, but the chemistry was the same. He abandoned his station and flung her into his arms, the water still rushing down the drain over the potatoes. She squealed. 

“Could you guys not run up my water bill?” Ieyasu reemerged over the counter, knocking the faucet down. “If you’re gonna be distracted—”

“Sorry!” Her smile was infectious. “Let me just get back to those.”

His body cooled so quickly when she parted. Ieyasu hovered a moment longer, his green eyes boring into Masamune’s good one. 

“What?” He asked, cracking half the cloves open with a practiced hand. Ieyasu shook his head. 

“Nothing.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

1.  who is the biggest womanizer you know?: I don’t know anyone I’d describe that way, but now I have Britney Spears’ song in my head.

2. do you tend to get attached to people you hook up with?: I haven’t hooked up with anyone, but I do fall for people I like easily and hard. At least that’s how I was. I’ve been out of the game for a few years now, so who knows.

3. would you ever have a threesome? No.

4. what was the last party you attended that had a dj, and were they a good dj?: My cousin’s quince years ago.

5. is there anyone who’s bothering you lately?: No.

6. do you know anyone named amy?: Nope.

7.  who is the most attractive person you know?: There isn’t anyone I’m attracted to at the moment.

8. when did you last feel the most free?: Uhhh. 

9.  is there anyone who likes (or liked) you and had a really hard time getting over you?: My first (and technically only) boyfriend had a hard time with the breakup and accepting us just being friends. We tried for years, but ultimately I had to cut it off completely because he still had feelings for me and kept trying to get back together when I made it very clear where I stood and how I felt. He was the only who ever really cared (in that way) and had real feelings for me, but it just didn’t work out. I couldn’t be with him just because he actually liked me. But damn, no one has had that same energy for me since.

10. do you think you could last six months without cheating if your significant other went away on a trip?: Yes. 

11. what’s your most missed memory? My childhood.

12. who is one friend you usually run to when you have a problem?: I usually just rant and vent about it in a survey and/or Twitter.

13. do you know anyone who is part native american?: Yeah.

14. what’s your favorite color combination?: Pastel colors.

15. where were you on 11th september?: I’m assuming you’re referring to September 11, 2001 (9/11), in which case I was at home on bed rest after having spinal surgery. My mom came rushing into my room and changed the TV to the news and told me about what happened. We watched together in shock.

16. do you drink?: I haven’t had alcohol in 7 years.

17. did you ever love someone and feel like it was wrong?: No.

18. the last time you felt like just disappearing?: It’s a recurring feeling. 

19. did you see that movie disturbia? what did you think of it?: Nope.

20. what’s your favorite bug?: Um, NONE.

21. what’s the longest amount of time you liked/loved somebody for? Not including celebrities (my love for Alexander Skarsgard has gone on for like 10 years), I had feelings for Joseph for 5 years.

22. is there anyone who likes to make you feel inferior?: No, I just feel that way.

23. what song makes you cry?: There’s a few. One is the acoustic version of Everlong by Foo Fighters because of a memory I have associated with that song.

24. do you like rock or rap music better?: I like both.

25. what’s the nearest body of water to you?: A lake.

26. do you go to cemeteries a lot?: I’ve been to a cemetery like twice and it was with a friend. My loved ones who have passed were cremated, so.

27. when was the last time it snowed where you live?: It doesn’t snow here. :(

28.  if you could watch someone change, would you?: Uh, change what?

29. do you like or hate the snow?: I love it. That’s probably because it doesn’t snow here haha so it’s like majestic to me.

30. ever known someone with an eating disorder?: Yes.

31. is there someone you’ll never forget?: A lot of people.

32. have you ever had a white christmas?: No. :( I’d love that.

33. ever stayed in a hotel room over night?: Yeah, many times. For a few nights as well.

34. who was the last person to lie to you?: I don’t know.

35.  do you usually ask for help when you need it, or do you prefer to be independent?: It really depends.

36. last thing you lusted after?: Uhhh.

37. last time you tripped over something?: I don’t recall.

38. what’s something you want to do but aren’t sure of yet?: If I’m not sure of it yet then how would I know?

39. worst relationship you ever had?: The one with myself.

40. favorite song to dance to?: Songs I hear a lot on TikTok and there are dances for. I make sad attempts to do them, ha. I’ll never make a TikTok, though. Nopeeeee.

41. ever been to new york city?: No, but I’d love to one day.

[antcassese]

Whats been going on in my life? Can you handle it?

Everyone knows the rules.... song choice first and foremost!

All My Life - Foo Fighters, damn this song gets me going.

The last 6 months feel almost like a blur. I think a lot of us can relate to this? Im certain I’m not the only one that had a crazy 2020. I’ve literally watch so many of you fall victim to job loss, relationships falling out, and just all around chaos. I’ve witnessed you guys experience this! Just like you’ve watched me, from a distance you’ve watched me.

You’ve watched as my marriage crumbled. You’ve heard about me moving into a damn shed. You watched me walk away from a well paying position. You seen me cry, you’ve seen me talk ill of people in a way not even I condone, unless otherwise provoked.. You’ve been there for me, and didn't even know it. I knew it though. 

Starters, I lost my dad around Christmas in 2019. This man didn't take anyone's shit, even if they had him by the balls. He was sweet, loved his family, but absolutely took no shit. He was the fucking man, but as life goes. We all live to die. During this time, I was still with my wife. A time that I needed to focus, I needed to keep my family together. I was the man now, and it was time to act. 

I had a hard time being intentional having my wife constantly hold me back. It was hard to mourn when I had a significant other who insisted the attention be on her over my parent I lost. This was the the beginning of the end for my marriage, sadly.

I married into what I believed was someone who had the same morals, same ideologies as me. I was sadly mistaken, and after learning the we were on two different wavelengths, the universe did it’s thing. In a matter of a couple months, after many disturbing dealing’s with my wife, I had to cut my losses. This simply was a bad investment and I had to get the fuck out of dodge.

I'm sure you’ve been there, hell, you may be dealing with this as we speak. Constantly asking yourself, “Is this it?” “Is this person really for me”? 

Or maybe you are 10000% certain about what you have, in that case, I am happy for you.

BUT if you’re asking yourself those questions, there's already a problem. Run while you have a chance.

My dad died, god bless his soul. He was a dad, with shortcomings but still, a dad. Losing him crushed me. My marriage? Shit happens! It obviously wasn’t meant to be, and no it wasn’t a mistake! Never! I don't regret it for one second. It just didn’t quite pan out. It’s okay, I had bigger plans waiting for me....

One door closes, another opens! Always be willing to go where the wind blows you, never know where it could take you.

In the mix of a divorce, came leaving my well paying job. I really enjoyed the work I did, having worked in Manhattan for sometime was a huge accomplishment that not many people can say they’ve done. But frankly, It didn't fill me up anymore. It didn’t cut it for me. 

As much as I love money, as most of you know. Some referring to me as even frugal at times, the money couldn’t buy my sanity. Everyday I fought the demon in my head to quit. I wanted to quit because I wanted to dedicate my life to making an impact, not just making money. This was hard for anyone to understand from the outside looking in, it was hard for even me to understand what the hell I was attempting to accomplish by quitting my job to pursue, what? Making an impact doesn't pay the bills? Know what I mean. But I stopped thinking, and one day I snapped. 

I snapped, I was done thinking about my plans, and instead. It was time to start acting. Simple as that

To me, making an impact is and always will be more important then money. I hear from many of you everyday thanking me and praising me for writing, my vlogs, my one on one conversations. THAT SHIT MOVES ME!

You wouldn’t believe how full I am after hearing I made an impact in a strangers life. 

That's what is important to me. Making a difference, one soul out of time. The money is nice but it doesn't move me the way it moves some. I have to know I helped someone at the end of the day or I feel empty.

This is how I’ve found myself. and these days, I'm not playing games. It’s crunch time, come along or get the fuck out of the way.

These last few months have been devastating for me though.. They have torn me in directions that I didn’t know were even possible. I can’t stress how hard life has hit me.

But guess what?

I am so fucking thankful for it. I literally couldn’t be more happy that my life has played out this way. 

My dad passing hurt so bad, hurt. But his passing finally revealed to me what it’s like to be a man. He showed me, and since December, I’ve been a bull. Everything that was meant to break me, only fueled me.

Every set back only made me buck harder, every single day.

My marriage was important because my parents never got married, and I owed it to myself to get married and live a happy life. Being married doesn't necessarily bring happiness though, reality check! 

No job? Whatever

You see, living amongst chaos is normal to me! I love this shit.

I literally strive off of the chaos. My best friend turned out to betray me, as I suspected he would. Never felt betrayal so great. I couldn’t be more grateful for his choice, as life has a way of revealing itself guys.

find solace in the hell you might be in. we all feel hell somewhere in our life. double down, get a plan together, and be ready to execute.

Don't be a victim, no one likes a sissy. 

Next blog isn’t about whats happen to me this year, it’s alllllll about what is going to be happening!

#ONLYTHEFUTURE

Buckle up. Love yall

[notesonnotes]

Notes On: Fairshake

Today, we’re checking out Fairshake. They are a band from  the suburbs of Atlanta, mainly the Marietta & Woodstock areas,   with amazing vocals and lyrics that tell a story. Members are: Shayne Goss (Vocals & Guitar); Tucker Harding (Vocals & Guitar); Dan Wilson (Percussion) and Chase Sammons (/bass). The songs are personal, and some are heart wrenching, but nonetheless, they have a message: Keep Going.

The band members each have their own stories, and have come together to do something they love, and it shows. Their songs are full of emotion, and, if you’ve been to a show, I’m sure you can hear it in Shayne’s voice, and see it. If you haven’t heard of, or checked out Fairshake, now is your chance to get a little insight, and check out their music.  

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

What would you describe your style as?

90's Vibe Pop Rock, but as we collectively write our next EP (working with Jeremy Nichols and Ben Cato of The Dangerous Summer) we see our sound graduating to early 2000′s Pop Rock sound. 

Who are some of your influences?

Shayne's biggest influences are definitely first and foremost their idol Butch Walker ( Singer Songwriter & Producer) & Marvelous 3, as well as Third Eye Blind, Against Me!, and Veruca Salt. Other collective influences, though allover the place, include Relient K, Motion City Soundtrack, Foo Fighters,The Dangerous Summer, Breaking Benjamin, Thrice, The Story So Far, The Wonder Years, Paramore, and Gin Blossoms. 

How did you all meet? When did Fairshake start an what's the story behind your name?

Fairshake Counsil actually started in the Spring of 2008 if I remember correctly. My best girl friend sang my songs for me while I played guitar. At the time we were going for an acoustic indie pop sound with a southern soulful voice. She left shortly after the project began. The idea behind the name Fairshake is a group of artists who come from different repressed backgrounds but have worked to overcome their obstacles, no matter how hard it was and they give hope to others that they can also be their best selves. That everyone can get a "fair shake". I dropped "Counsil" off the name in 2014 after my 3 year hiatus. I came back as a solo act and released demos in January 2015. It was the revolving door of members until 2017, some getting hit with the door on the way out and others that are still good friends but with different ideas of what they wanted out of a music career. As for me, I want to make it in this industry. I believe I finally found the mates that want to do the same. Dan Wilson (of Atlanta's Pop Punk Wild'n Crew LIKE MIKE) helped with the self titled record in 2016, releasing in 2018 (a long wait I know) and they decided to stay as they were attached to the music and want the same things I did. Tucker Harding came into the light on lead guitar as he was already a fan and had already filled in for a couple live shows. Tucker brought Chase Sammons along with him in the fall of 2017. Things seem to be coming together.

The self titled record released a few singles with music video. The first being "Valium" in October 2017. Along with "Sun Kissed" (January 2018) and  and "Hey Doctor" (April 2018) [Videos will be posted below.]

All videos starred Tucker and Chase on their instruments, but unfortunately the recordings were dated at this point, being recorded with previous band members. If you have seen our show, I am sure you can agree that the live performance sounds more fitting as the songs have matured and our chemistry has blossomed. If you haven't seen us live, well, this is your invite to the party! We look forward to getting in the studio this Spring with our friend Jeremy Nichols, and one of our influences, Ben Cato of The Dangerous Summer. New Single Coming this Summer!

How do you go about setting up a tour? What are some of your tips?

TOUR. Shayne knows too many people, but not enough. Biggest tip with setting up tour if you are a DIY band... be firm and when someone says "No", ask them if they know anyone they can refer you to that will say, "Yes". Not necessarily in those exact words, but it's likely they know someone who can help you accomplish your goals. It is hard not to take things personally when you are speaking about pay, housing, booking a showcase for your own art, but you have to realize that venues are coming from a business perspective as well. Maybe you will grow and it will work out when you ask them next time. Persistence! 

How do you handle stress on the road?

Having so many emotional and artistic people in one vehicle can have it's ups and downs. We definitely cry together more than we laugh. And by cry I mean good cry, it is survival mode out there on the road. We have our weaknesses and strength and all acknowledge them. Each one of us steps up to the plate to lead and I think that is what helps things go smoothly. We love each other and this is a team effort. 

What is your favorite show to date? Favorite show? 

Seeing as we have done weddings, birthday parties, graduations, holiday parties, bar gigs, opened for larger bands and even counting the disastrous gigs that gave us amazing stories, it is hard to pick one. We would like to think that our favorite show is still out there. 

What is your dream venue?

SUPER BOWL. That means you've absolutely made it right!? 

Where do you see yourself/selves in 5 years?

Five years from now, we see each one of us full time musicians. No more of these side hustles to pay the bills. Each one of us has Fairshake and are individual artists with our own talents and side projects in music. We would like to think all of this hard work will pay off by then.  

And lastly, are there any shout outs to other bands or anyone that has helped you in the past that you'd like to recognize?

The Dangerous Summer: https://www.facebook.com/thedangeroussummer/

Like Mike: https://www.facebook.com/likemikega/

Joe Warren at Masquerade: https://www.facebook.com/joe.warren.695

Cascadent: https://www.facebook.com/cascadentBand/

Resident One: https://www.facebook.com/residentoneband/

Sarah and The Safeword: https://www.facebook.com/sarahandthesafeword/

The Keepsake: https://www.facebook.com/TheKeepsakeBand/

Mike Liorti (Former Rosedale): https://www.facebook.com/ROSEDALEmusic/

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

Links

Twitter: https://twitter.com/thefairshake

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thefairshake/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thefairshake/

Website: https://fairshake.bandcamp.com/

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

Valium

Sun Kissed

Hey Doctor

[greensparty]

Concert Review: Foo Fighters

7/21/2018 @ Fenway Park (Boston, MA)

my friend Ron, Wally the Green Monster and me at Fenway Park

Anyone who knows me or reads this blog, knows I am a hardcore Foo Fighters fanatic! I recently recounted my concert history of seeing them live. This particular show marked my 11th Foo Fighters concert and second time seeing them at Fenway Park. The weekend began on Friday with me seeing Foo Fighters’ guitarist Chris Shiflett doing a solo acoustic show at City Winery. But the real fun this weekend was a contest I won! The Verb Hotel selected me as the winner for a stay at their hotel on Sat. night AND tickets to Foo Fighters’ Fenway Park concert that night. One of my closest friends Ron came up to Boston for the occasion. I cannot thank the Verb enough for this epic concert / weekend! The hotel is a blast and my family really enjoyed it FYI (a treat for music geeks like me).

The Monsieurs onstage at Fenway Park

We went into Fenway Park at 5:30 and saw the first openers Boston’s own The Monsieurs. Earlier this month I got the chance to interview them about this big concert the Foo Fighters asked them to open. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, this Little Band that Could that are so well-liked around town were on stage at Fenway Park opening for Foo Fighters! And they truly brought it! At that time, most fans were just trickling in, but The Monsieurs brought their raw garage rock energy to a venue not used to hearing that sound. They even slipped in a cover of “Wild Thing”. It would’ve cooler if they played longer than 40 min., but no complaints since we were lucky to have them even for that much time.

The Struts onstage at Fenway Park

Next up was UK’s The Struts. I wasn’t too familiar with them, but liked that I had heard. They are a band that is bowing at the altar of 70s glam rock, especially Queen and The Rolling Stones. They definitely are a band to watch! 

Dave Grohl onstage with Foo Fighters

Taylor Hawkins onstage with Foo Fighters

Then, the headliners took the stage to “All My Life” with front man Dave Grohl running around like a mad man. He made reference to how last time he was at Fenway Park he had to sit in a throne but not tonight (see my review of the 2015 Fenway Park show here). I’d definitely rank this on the upper ranks of their best shows I’ve seen. They did a show heavy on the hits (”Everlong”, “Best of You”, “Learn to Fly”, what you’d expect them to play basically), but I was a little surprised they didn’t do a single song off of 2014′s Sonic Highways album. Perhaps the band sees that album as a concept album as opposed to select songs that can be played live. But considering it was a Gold record that debuted at #2, it was by no means a bad album that fans didn’t like. There was an emphasis on the new album Concrete and Gold (which I named my #1 Album of 2017), with a total of 5 songs off the album played. 

Chris Shiflett onstage with Foo Fighters

Nate Mendel onstage with Foo Fighters

Some of the highlights of the show IMHO were “These Days” and “Times Like These” (which happen to be 2 of my favorite Foo Fighter songs). Another big highlight was the intro of the band members. Chris Shiflett rocked out to Alice Cooper’s “Under My Wheels”, which he sang. Drummer Taylor Hawkins came out from the drums with Grohl sitting in on drums, as he sang Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” with Struts singer Luke Spiller singing the Freddie Mercury party and Hawkins doing the Bowie part. That is some big shoes to fill and its hard to rise to such a challenge of singing either iconic singers’ part, but they handled it well. It should also be added that Hawkins’ drum had a picture of Chris Cornell, a nice tribute. Concrete and Gold producer Greg Kurstin sat in on keyboards on “Foreplay”. Upon the intro of keyboardist Rami Jaffee (the newest official member of the band), he began playing the piano part of John Lennon’s “Imagine” and as we thought the band was going to play it, Grohl sang the vocals of Van Halen’s “Jump”. Funny stuff! As if all these covers weren’t enough, they found time to fit in The Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” too. There was also the intro of their backing singers, one of which was Grohl’s 12-year-old daughter Violet. He joked that she told him “You’re not even the best singer in this family”. Grohl made reference to Nate Mendel re-joining the tour after he flew home for one night as his wife gave birth to twins, now he was back onstage!

Rami Jaffee onstage with Foo Fighters

Pat Smear onstage with Foo Fighters

Overall, this is one of the best of the big rock shows I’ve seen in a while. I hear Sunday’s show had a guest appearance from Joe Walsh, who was in town with The Eagles, plus openers Speedy Ortiz and Dinosaur Jr. But it was a phenomenal concert and overall memorable weekend, especially with the contest win!

[theartofwarword]

Bill White -profile

All rights reserved © 2018, –author, USTAKNOW (alias)

(In 3 Part Harmony –part 1 of 3; all three below)

Until they throw dirt in your face, let them throw dirt… that’s what I say. What do you say?   – Thud, thud, thud…, anyone listening?

I met this guy about a year ago or so on FAWM (FAWM.org), – performer, singer, songwriter, architect of all things visual and audio and mapped to the brain via heart. Interesting, aye? It seems we all gotta little bit of this guy in us and what may all, connect us.

Tell me, who wouldn’t want to read a story about integrity of life, acute politics, high-life nights out, and tastefully refined debauchery?   – Read on.

Yes, it’s about MUSIC. Music and a 50 year in the making craftsman from Seattle Washington, USA, now a Peruvian exile to finally fresh air and great coffee! We should all be so lucky to live in an old Peach Orchard! It’s true. However, like Harlem, NY, it may not be what you think by mere words, – Harlem started as a Dutch outpost, became farmland, then a resort town, then a commuter town,  and it is what it is today… like Bill’s Peach Orchard. Paradise to him because there grows well, his wife, daughter, music and global Internet friend—ships. Here’s one launching now, again.

So, it’s funny how folks across history, lump labels of people, – like, keeping with the old “dirt analogy” attributed to “Farmers” (musicians?) for centuries (of Harlem and Peach Orchards), – “Oh, he’s just a dirt farmer… ”. Like musicians?, easy to forget until some life event you then want a “little music” to go with it. Farmers, – yeah, not important while the A&P is well stocked, – until it’s not.

  – Like the very generic current mainstream corporate music industry of Break-beat re-runs, midi-delic samples from what era sampled?, 1970 – ironic!, (well, if when then from). Then, that silly dirt farmer-musician becomes esteemed genius, warrior of manipulation from the hand of God for food, music and soulful fulfillment, – musician-warrior.

Ah yes, music…, that is what we’re talking about here?, – who can’t listen to music on a full stomach?

Bill White –profile:  (Part 2 of 3)

Consider Bill White, native of (yet again), Washington State, Seattle, USA. Oh my God…, it must be all of the great unending rain watering of all these musicated bands of people like in Alice in Chains, Foo Fighters, Heart, Hendrix –Experience, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, SoundGarden, and even before them Bing Crosby and still plucking strings Carol Kaye, et al! (Not all “great”, but from Washington State and arguably influential musicators.) Within our time line of music encapsulating Bill’s mainstream antithesis, we in brief see that the ‘60’s resolved the '50’s, influencing the '70’s which then moved bands of musicians forward which landed in the '90’s, –after commercial boundaries of the '80’s caged originality. Within that mix too, was Bill White, –doing his thing. Nirvana, Pearl Jam peaked from under the corporate music rubble with others of a different voice yet, like Alice in Chains. Black Sabbath becoming cliché yielding to –aggression of posture within music. Kurt Cobain’s kinda dark became loved, while monolithic riff monsters fell off the radar for real performing songwriting sung to a not yet commercialized audience laughing at the “devils triad” now ~“Beat” to death by corporate formulations. Within that mix too, was Bill White, –doing his thing. Depression, Disillusionment, Spiritual R&B Folk Grunge, (what the hell is grunge anyway?), had many players, and Bill White was one of them…, down in the “dirt of choice” to do their music as they saw fit, just like they brushed their teeth, and bathed themselves each night, –they did their music.  

  –Not for sale, unless taken as-is in the paradigm of which this all started down in the Delta, and American Slave Fields before all that birthed in the 1970’s “Rock Band Era” that bridge over to today’s now, – in peril music. 

Independent musicians are the new forever, suicide tide of music and Bill White was there 50 years ago, and still here TODAY and will be tomorrow until they are throwing fine Peruvian soil on his road worn “music factory”, temple of his music souled body, –birthed so many years ago from his parents love. – “Mom, said, never let the Blues leave your music.“ (Bill White, 2017)  

Bill White –profile: (Part 3 of 3)

Bill White was recently asked ”what do performing songwriters talk about" when they get together? Bill said, in summary, –nothing. He explains across a number of comments that, “they play songs to each other”, or as he said, they share an occasional Snickers Bar if found on he floor of the car they’re riding in, next to the soap.

I can only guess Tom Waits, part of this coming story comment, –was living out of his car at the time. Nice poetic license! However, Waits was actually living at the West HolLywood Tropicana Motel, Santa Monica Blvd. (click to follow link), and I understand this may be the car of which we speak, Tom Waits Lincoln (click to follow link). –Nice visual frame of reference for the rest below

So then, proceeding, Bill comments: “what does one talk about with Tom Waits? Barber shops, the statues of horse jockeys on the lawns of Beverly Hills mansions, – seldom about songwriting unless it is a question of what to name your female characters. The more you try to define something, the smaller cage you make for it.” Bill continued with: “Songwriters don’t so much talk about songwriting, as play each other the songs they have written and then talk about them specifically. Waits, played me a song once he was excited about because it sounded like a Springsteen song. Several years later there it was, –on a Springsteen album, ‘Jersey Girl’. Then he said he wasn’t going to make any more Jazz albums because, the company didn’t promote them.” Bill then explains: “when I started out on music, the people who were famous were famous because they were better than everyone else. In those days, my work was inferior to almost everything you would hear on the radio. Of course in those days we didn’t have the resources to approximate the quality of the top recordings. If you wanted to get the Clapton or the Hendrix sound, you had to work hard to figure out how they did it. Today you just push a button on your pod and you can sound like anybody you want. So at first there was no question of fame. It just was never going to happen. But then, after keeping at it for over a decade, the industry started to show interest in me.” Then Bill says something I personally have heard many times, and at risk of inserting myself here will say I did that too, in preface to the below comment, 

  –he ran. 

Bill explains: “I was a peer to my peers. although never successful in the songwriting business, I made more money at being a failure than 99% of the wannabes who fumbled around the streets of Hollywood with a cassette demo in their shirt pocket. Then a manager who was tiring of the monotonous fame of the super-group he managed showed an interest in developing my band, and I fled!!! The last thing I wanted was to sound like the shit I heard, and hated on the radio. On my own without a band, I had my good years and my bad years.” From what I hear from Bill, even beyond this one of many conversations with him over the past year is what I’ve observed within myself and as Bill says “there are100,000 other Bill Whites in the world”, – us all … : “I was so far outside what was happening that my stuff never really connected with the local scene in Boston, which is to where I fled. But then came along New England folk music revival. And while some kids were flocking to Seattle in hopes of becoming the new Eddie Vedder, hordes of songwriters were showing up in Harvard Square with dreams of becoming th next Tracy Chapman. With new venues opening for original acoustic music, I was finally able to stabilize myself musically and develop a fanbase. That went on for several productive years until…, bingo! I met Brett Anderson, Lead-singer for the London band "Suede”, and Rock and Roll reclaimed me again. When that scene passed, I moved to the South [southern USA states] where I was befriended by James Blood Ulmer, the most innovative Blues Guitarist since Hendrix. And I was back in the Blues, from where I started so long ago. I then went back to Seattle, worked at borders where I met some 20-something musicians, and became a Lead-guitar player for the first time in my life. Now, stepping away from the Mic and just playing whatever I wanted to play without having to worry if it was going over well with the audience. Finally, I teamed up with Toni Talia Marcus, who had played with Van Morrison from ‘79 to ‘80 and soon had my own band. I was writing new songs again. I always had decent sized audiences, but never built up a real, true fan base. I never stayed in the same location or state of music to be able to do that.” [Toni Marcus , –on the album, “Into the Music” (1979) Van Morrison, played violin, –entire album.] 

So, let me pause here to inject that,      –as I was reviewing the dialog Bill and I had over the past year (you should really read the Forum Posts after FAWM, 50/90 ends), I wondered what I could possibly write about him, worthy of both him and the reader, you-all. I feel anyone who “gets” this narrative will really “get” the state of music today and why it may well be one of the greatest times to be in the “music making” world. 

Bill responded to me when I asked him, –“what am I doing here with all this great real life music history of yours, ours, all of us?”: Bill said,    –“I think the hook in my story was caught by you on a few occasions, and that is…, there are 100,000 Bill Whites in the world. It is a universal story. We 100,000 Bill Whites who have endured, have produced a far greater body of work than the 10,000 successful pop stars who came and went.” –Arguably, the present state of musicators today! It’s why I personally refer to “us-all” as warrior-musicians. 

Bill continues within other comments: “For me, we could start with my archive, [https://billwhite.bandcamp.com].

   – The reasoning behind putting out 50 albums in 6 months, is the current emergence of the Arts, –now that the industry of art is collapsing. Moreover, is my home town state of Seattleists with no interest in becoming famous, and those who did become famous were destroyed by it, in one way or another. I managed to create 59 years worth of music that never stopped evolving because I was never trapped into repeating myself through deadend careerism. There are probably 100,000 Bill Whites in the world, people who have created bodies of work just as immense, diverse, and assured as the discographies of the most famous. There is enough unheard high quality material out there to fill radio play-lists for the next 100 years.” Bill continues: “why post 50 albums of songs I have written over the last 50 years. One reason is that whenever I give my opinion on something, I am asked what I have ever done that I would dare criticize the work of someone well known and loved. Well, now I can point them to the archive and say here, this is what I have done, I've been doing this shit my whole life and have the right to say whatever I want to say about it. Music is a language. Anyone can learn it, but like any other language, the important thing is what you say with it. Had I accepted the route of fame when it was offered me in 1981, I would never have written the songs I ended up writing. I would have had a brief career, and after that, nobody would have wanted to hear anything from me again. “He is so ‘80’s” they would say, and they would confine me there. Worse, I would probably be dead, along with most of the other People from Seattle that went down with the sucker punch of fame. In my life, I have managed to reach thousands of people with my music, and without ever becoming known!!! Now, how many people in their lives even manage to communicate what is inside them to even a dozen people? Not many people I would suspect. But every artist, no matter how obscure, reaches many many people, most of whom he will never know heard him.”

Well that’s true of well know famous, infamous, long time past writers, artists of our ancient past! However, Bill is on a cusp of almost famous, could be famous, should be famous, –one may only wonder. How many artist of any kind never knew their effect, e.g., –Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”, (which is for me two dimensional music), is a global staple, yet he never knew what was to come of his legacy. [https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/the-starry-night/bgEuwDxel93-Pg?hl=en (click link to view)]

It’s interesting to me that we don’t often think about our beginnings until we actually arrive somewhere from which we may look back from and see well what we’ve done. Bill explains: “I started taking songwriting seriously when I traded my trumpet for a guitar in 1970. For several years the results were not very good. I wrote three songs a week to play at the open Mic, and never got much response. I was told my harmonic experiments were interesting, but my lyrics were overly influenced by the poetic theories of Robert Graves, and few people had much idea what I was singing about. Besides, the competition was so strong in those days that my primitive meanderings had no chance in the market. 

It wasn’t until Punk Rock opened peoples ears that I began to connect with the public. I wrote some pretty good stuff from ‘78 to ‘82 and had a decent following for my bands. Then I moved from Seattle to Boston, where nobody knew me. So I languished until ‘86, when I met Tracy Chapman, and a host of others in the New England songwriters revival. I recorded an album, but was dissatisfied with it and used it as a demo. That put me on the Folk circuit for the next five years. 

I also got involved in theater and wrote the scores for two plays that toured Russia. Then Brit-pop hit and I went back to Rock music. So I then moved back to Seattle and started a band with an old friend who had been Soundgarden’s drum tech, now out of work because the band broke up. We recorded an EP, which was enthusiastically received, but there was to much conflict in everybody’s lives so that’s when, [commented above], I headed South, where I was befriended by {James Blood Ulmer who led me into the world of harmolodic Blues. Click link for further} [–Add’l:  Ulmer’s album “Birthright” won Blues Album of the Year, “DownBeat’s” ‘05 Readers Poll. Click link for further.]

I stayed there until I was able to create my own style out of it, and made some 4-track recordings that I liked. However, that self production indie musician quality of that era could not be marketed commercially back then [unlike today’s tech]. So, eventually I returned to Seattle yet again, and wrote music for a young poet I had met. 

We started a band with him as singer and me as guitarist, and had a pretty good run until he got married and disappeared. It was then I teamed up with ex Van Morrison side-woman, violinist Toni Marcus [commented above], and returned to writing for and fronting a band. And as well then, joining a group called “Songwriters in Seattle” spurred me to new creativity in writing. However then [concerning Bills big move to Peru], for many reasons, to many to engage here in this narrative, other than the best one which I am glad to comment, – I then left the country to marry the love of my life, a girl from Peru. Here in Peru is where I discovered FAWM [http://fawm.org/fawmers/billwhite51/, 2014]. 

Now, generally speaking, I only write songs during the month of February, which gives a new cohesion to each group of songs. An exception was made last year, when I participated in 50/90 [http://fiftyninety.fawmers.org/user/billwhite51, 2017]     –which I used primarily as a vehicle to review my output, as well as write over 50 new songs and engaged a few dozen collaborations! 

When that was over, I spent the rest of the year putting together a career spanning 45 albums for Bandcamp [https://billwhite.bandcamp.com, 2018]. This year, 2018, is my fifth FAWM.”

So, Bill, –let’s revisit the above question which is what this discussion was anchored on, “what do performing songwriters talk about” when they get together?” To complete that comment started by Bill above, he provided several anecdotal examples:  

“I was at a wedding with Peter Gabriel, for several hours we hid behind the Crudite Table and said nothing to each other. On another occasion, in the back seat driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Tom Waits in the driver seat, I asked him if I could have the Snickers Bar I found on the floor, he said no, but the bar of soap was mine if I wanted it. Hanging out with Tim Hardin, all I did was look out for him when he was stoned. Another time, I was side by side with Elvis Costello on three occasions, and neither of us spoke a word to each other, as we had not been introduced. I made small talk with Jon Bon Jovi for half an hour backstage, thinking he was a roadie. Another time, I offered a part in a play I had written to Dar Williams, never knowing she was a songwriter, and a brilliant one at that. I asked Marianne Faithful if she would ever do another project with Mick Jagger and she laughed. I asked Rickie Lee Jones when Tom [Waits] would be getting home. I spoke with Lou Reed about the sequencing of the songs on Ecstasy and asked if he had stolen the idea for the cover from a certain unnameable Andy Warhol film. Brett Anderson and I talked for hours about the composition of the songs on Dog Man Star. And so, in brief, with songwriters, the matter of songwriting seldom came up.”

No, it seems we, artists, want to be heard, we want to play our songs and hear others, –it’s how we communicate best. Bill explains his experience with songwriting and feedback from peers: “In my early days of songwriting, I had an extended group of friends in real time and space, and we would talk [unlike on line today] and play and write all day and night, staying up for days sometimes, and always giving each other hell, –no sensitivity training then. But when one of us wrote something good, the praise would fall like rain. Otherwise, we were tough on each other, and each of us had a good idea of where we fit in the grand scheme of things. And we got better and better at what we did. Not because of the praise but because of the criticism. When somebody did something unusual they had to explain it. Now some of those same people are the touchiest creatures on earth. But it took them many years to get to that point where they feel they are beyond criticism. For all you who are new to the art of songwriting, this is no time to be touchy. Ask for the harshest criticism and toughen your skin and improve your craft. Study the odes and practice the forms. I aways like discussing songwriting, but am usually to busy writing songs to spend a lot of time on it, –just discussing it. However, I am glad to have friends here, though [on-line], who bring up the questions that are worth taking the time to ponder.

I spent ten years writing about music for a daily newspaper in a major US city, and my biggest challenge was interviewing inarticulate musicians and then writing an article that made them sound intelligent.” 

In the course of our conversations, mine and Bills, and skimming through the hours of tracks, albums Bill is archiving of his work I asked him about a “favorites” or “greatest hits” compilation, so to speak: “I have considered a greatest hits collection, but could never make the choices myself. But, if I were honest about it I could make a compilation of the songs that have been the most well received. 

That compilation would surely include “Junk” (from Manicure), “Sleepless dreamers” (from Tales From the Forsaken Art House), “White Boy” (from the Dimes), “Smoky Edge” (from Ravenna), “Five Seconds to Midnight” (from King and Country), “Pink Lipstick” (from Older Master Cute), “Esmeralda” (from Legends) and “A Billion Women” (from Rain City Blues). Thats six. There are probably another four in stuff I have not gotten to yet. So, maybe once I have ten I’ll take your advice and do a “greatest hits collection”.” 

Bill continues, explaining: “The worst thing is when a novelty song catches on. I wrote a satire on new age music called Walt Disney on Ice, and every where I played, there were requests for it. When I started refusing to play it, lots of people stopped coming to my shows. “Five Seconds to Midnight” (from King and Country) spent three years in the top ten of Neil Young’s “Songs of War Video Chart”, – twenty years after I recorded it! So those longevity things are pretty reliable. What people respond to on any given night should not be taken too seriously. Oh, with the exception of concerning my wife, – who first contacted me through Myspace after playing my song “A Billion Women” 100 times in a row! I checked the stats, –she had!” 

A good way to conclude this is with advice from “Mom”: “My mama used to warn me not to ever let the Blues go out of my music, for then my soul would be lost. There’s Blues in most of my songs and many are pure Blues. I’m currently putting together a “best of album” for Bandcamp to be called “20 Years of the Blues”.”

Look for it folks, Bill does Blues, –well. 

– Folks, if you read to here, thank you. We do hope you enjoyed it! (If all the “100,000 Bill Whites out there” bought each others songs, just one, how nice would that be!)

USTAKNOW, 2018  

[samanthasroberts]

9:30 Club: the hardcore venue that hosted the president

The famously stinky Washington DC music den, now 35 years old, was a crucible for the local hardcore scene and even hosted the Clintons

How many times have I been to the 9:30 Club? Thousands, says Ian MacKaye, frontman of Minor Threat and Fugazi and founder of Dischord Records. MacKaye first stepped foot in the club in July of 1980 to see a Bad Brains show and has been a regular, both onstage and off, ever since. This year, the 9:30 Club is celebrating its 35th anniversary, marking the occasion with a party (a three-day Worlds Fair exhibition) and a big book a 264-page oral and pictorial history of the club called 9.30 the Book.

The scrapbook-like history features interviews and memorabilia from some of its most well-known patrons (Dave Grohl, Chuck D of Public Enemy, Fall Out Boy) and staff members eager to share their memories about the club that helped define a generation and then somehow kept going.

The 9:30 Club was founded back in 1980 by Dody DiSanto and Jon Bowers, who opened the venue inside a space previously occupied by the locally infamous Atlantis club. (The Bad Brains have a song called At the Atlantis, explained MacKaye.) The new club took its name from its address in an ignored stretch of downtown Washington DC. My fondest memories of the 9:30 Club take place at its original location at 930 F Street. It was an olfactory wonderland of sweat, beer, clove cigarettes, and of course, the Smell, said Scott Crawford, director of the documentary Salad Days: A Decade of Punk in Washington DC, referring to a notorious aroma variously compared to cigarettes soaked in Lysol and the bottom of a garbage mans shoe.

The stretch of downtown Washington DC where the club was located was far from cool, populated by liquor stores, wig shops and famously aggressive rats. Its location did have its perks, though. I remember being stoked about being in the alley back there, said Neil Fallon of the band Clutch. One end had the FBI building, on the other end is Fords Theater where Lincoln got shot and in the middle is the load-in for the club. In hindsight, it was a really unique location.

That was my first out of town of show, said Fred Armisen, who played there with his band sometime around 1988, and later for a Portlandia live show. DC had a really respected punk scene and I had heard of the club because Bad Brains played there. It was kind of legendary. We went down and opened for Government Issue. The alley was really gritty and dirty and I thought Oh thats real punk, because I was a suburban guy.

The 9:30 Club quickly became a stopover for alternative bands getting airplay on college radio like Simple Minds, the Go-Gos, Violent Femmes, and 10,000 Maniacs. REM even played a battle of the bands with another band called REM the winner of the competition got to keep the name.

In the early days though, the 9:30 Club was perhaps best known as a space where local bands like Bad Brains, Teen Idles, Nation of Ulysses and Rites of Spring, as well as DCs sui generis go-go scene, could play. There was a pretty significant punk underground hardcore scene in Washington that was growing and at some point the woman who ran the 9:30 Club, Dody DiSanto, took notice of that and she took an interest in that and us and wanted to work together, said MacKaye. She opened the venue up.

One of the first shows I saw was in June or July of 1981 with three punk bands that Dodi booked Minor Threat, Government Issue and Youth Brigade, said Cynthia Connolly, author of Banned in DC and former booker for the other downtown DC venue, DC Space. What stood out about that show is that it sold out and it was there that we realized that this kind of music was reaching a larger audience than we could ever imagine.

DiSanto also allowed the younger members of the citys nascent punk and hardcore scene into the club, instructing the door to draw giant black xs on the hands of anyone under the age of 18 (the legal drinking age at the time). It was a suggestion that came from MacKaye and his band Teen Idles, who had seen it done at a club in San Francisco. The black xs eventually became a hallmark of the straightedge hardcore scene. I dont think theres another scene in the country that has that and its because of this agreement between the 9:30 Club and the punks, said MacKaye. They gave us a shot and no one ever abused it.

The 9:30 Club became a place for the members of the citys arts and music scene to hang out. At the old club, we were such a tight-knit group of people, it was like a clubhouse more than a club, said Donna Westmoreland, who started working at the club in 1990 as a bar manager, and is now the head of IMP, which owns the club and books acts for other venues. But it was a club that anyone that wanted to be a part of it could join.

Adding to the clubhouse vibe was the spaces layout, a strange L shape which allowed bands and fans to mingle in the long hallways. It was almost always over capacity, too. I saw Jesus Lizard at the old 9:30 on the Liar tour. You cant believe how overpacked it was. There must have been over 300 people and it was 199-capacity, said Travis Morrison of the Dismemberment Plan. Despite packing them in, however, the club always lost money, and when DiSanto and Bowers divorced the club was sold to current owners Seth Hurwitz and Rich Heinecke. By that point the club was an integral part of the fabric of the city and the surrounding suburbs, and was a necessary stopping point for music fans and touring bands. Everybody has their story about their first show at the 9:30 Club, said Westmoreland.

In 1991 I played at the 9:30 club for the first time, says Moby. I was opening up for the Shamen, and even though I was the opening act going on as people were walking in to the club, I felt so amazed to actually be performing on stage at one of the most hallowed and legendary clubs in the United States.

Thats a sentiment reflected again and again by bands who played there. Clutch played their first show at 9:30 opening for Sub Pops Love Battery. As far as I was concerned at that time we had made it as a band. Im sure there were other clubs people wanted to get into, but that was top of the shelf for me, says Fallon. Going backstage there as a band was thrilling.

It really felt like stepping on hallowed ground to finally reach that 9:30 stage as a player, says John Dugan, drummer for the band Chisel (led by Ted Leo) and a former editor at the Washington DC City Paper. While many musicians have memories of playing the club (and Chisel played there a lot), Dugan also has fond memories as a journalist when venerable New York Times writer David Carr ushered a group of young reporters into the aftershow for the Tibetan Freedom Concert in 1998. [Carr] negotiated our way in and we saw the show of a lifetime solo Michael Stipe, Pulp and Radiohead. Magic, says Dugan.

A new home

Under the leadership of the new owners, the 9:30 Club started to thrive, but it also started to outgrow its already packed location. When the Black Cat, a new club catering to smaller bands opened, the 9:30 Club decided to make its move. At the beginning of 1996, 9:30 Club moved to a larger and more traditional space at 815 V Street NW, where its been for the last 20 years. Fittingly, go-go band Trouble Funk helped close out the old space, while the Smashing Pumpkins played back-to-back shows to inaugurate the new one. The old space was what it was: the floors were rotting and smelled like cigarettes, says Connolly. The new space really elevated it.

When we moved to a new space it really became about the music, said Westmoreland. People who worked there were no less committed but there was a lot more to accomplish in the course of the day when you go from 200 capacity to 1,200.

One of the ways that the club was able to hold onto its position as a venue for both local acts and national touring bands is that it has a flexible-size venue. With the stage on wheels and the sound and lights on tracks, we can do smaller shows and keep it really intimate when a band is on its way up or maybe on its way down it can feel like its playing to a sold out room, says Westmoreland.

The remarkable thing is that when the club moved it maintained its mojo, said Clutchs Fallon. Theres some aesthetic that they were able to translate from that small club to whatever it is now.

I dont think of it as a club anymore, I think of it as a venue, said MacKaye. I think its one of the best, if not the best run venue in the country and I know a lot of tour managers who would agree with me.

Of course it wasnt just go-go acts and punk bands that made the 9:30 Club a landmark. The Beastie Boys, Justin Timberlake, Bob Dylan and Radiohead have all played the club, and back in 2001 the Clintons rented the space out for a private party. The 9:30 Club is now one of the most attended venues of its size in the world. Everybody knows the 9:30 Club, said Armisen.

For its 30th anniversary, Henry Rollins hosted a show where the Foo Fighters played alongside 9:30 Club mainstays like Clutch, MacKayes new band The Evens, Ted Leo, Trouble Funk and the Slickee Boys. Now, as it celebrates its 35th year, with a book to document its past and one eye on the future, its clear that the 9:30 Club is no longer just a nightclub, but an American music institution.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/930-club-the-hardcore-venue-that-hosted-the-president/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/22/930-club-the-hardcore-venue-that-hosted-the-president/

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, week thirty-three

brief reviews of the songs which debuted on the billboard hot 100 the weeks of 23 august 1997, 25 august 2007, and 26 august 2017

8.23.1997

25) "You Make Me Wanna..." by Usher

It's at once extremely difficult and painfully easy to stand out amongst the sea of R&B dudes. It's difficult because there's so many, but easy because, on some level, all the other R&B dudes are singing about devotion. They're either pledging eternal love or pledging eternal love on the condition that their intended return, either way, they are saying you're the one, you're absolutely the only person. Usher isn't even going to say he's going to leave his current girl for you. He's saying he wants to, but he's not saying that he's going to start that new relationship, he just really wants to, he wants to ditch this girl for the person he should have been with all along. It's one of the greatest songs about indecision ever made, well deserving of its place in the cultural consciousness.

58) "Hole in My Soul," by Aerosmith

Imagine the look on Steven Tyler's face when he realized hole rhymed with soul. "We can write so many songs now!" I like to think he exclaimed to his other, equally excited band members. "This changes everything!" I dunno, you're asking me to write about a song Aerosmith made at least five years past their prime and 20 years later. Like, I'm not gonna find gold in this swamp just 'cuz I brought a pan to it, y'know?

67) "After 12, Before 6," by Sam Salter

This is an okay song about fucking, but how many horny-ass R&B songs have we heard out of 1997? Like, just by making a song touching on infidelity in a novel and fun way, Usher makes his song more memorable than this synthy ballad of many runs. (Another point in "You Make Me Wanna..."s favor: whoever played guitar on that song did a stellar job.) Like, why would I wanna hear another slow jamz after "You Make Me Wanna..."? What is the utility of this decades-old song about schtuppin'? Hello hi it is 3 AM on a Wednesday I am behind on everything I got a super late start on this post I've barely started the Fall Out Boy post and I wasted ten minutes I don't have trying to wrap my mind grapes around this song.

76) "Have a Little Mercy," by 4.0

how come in songs like this from a group of r&b dudes every member of the group is singing in the first person. like shouldn't the other three dudes say "you should take him back," or am i supposed to believe that all four of these men are spurned lovers who are simultaneously making their pitch. "heck are these other three girls doing here?" "efficiency. our plea will not work unless we are harmonizing." like i wouldn't take any of these dudes back simply because none of them made me feel special.

77) "Supernatural," by Wild Orchid

We have brought up in YAS the idea that, if we didn't know who Fergie was, we would not mind her songs at all, but because they come with the Fergie package, we are annoyed by them, consider them horrible, awful things. I can now introduce ANECDOTAL EVIDENCE to the trial, which is the best kind of evidence IMHO. Wild Orchid had a song in the Top 20 for a little bit. Because I encountered "Talk to Me" in one of those periods where I don't feel like "learning" anything about the thing I'm gonna talk about, I didn't look up who the individual members of Wild Orchid were. TURNS OUT, WHEN I DION'T KNOW FERGIE WAS INVOLVED IN A PROJECT, I ENJOY THE RESULTS OF THE PROJECT A LIL' BIT. This isn't quite as fun as "Talk to Me," and I'm a little disappointed this isn't the '60s jam the first few seconds of the video led me to believe it was going to be, but it's a fun '90s pop/r&b ditty, and also that key change.

91) "Stranger in Moscow," by Michael Jackson

So we're all in agreement that Michael Jackson made a lot of great songs and was probably a pedophile, right? I dunno. Like, he's dead, so listening to his music probably won't hurt anyone, but at the same time, I'm not sure I'll be able to say anything of value regarding this song, because I'm either going to ignore the fact he was probably a pedophile or make a dumb joke about a sensitive topic, I dunno, this item on the list is like a treasure map with no Xs. I'm not about to dig in a billion places just to find one nugget.

92) "Free," by Ultra Nate

All dance music sounds more or less the same to me, yet I somehow mind this a lot less than the rest of the dance cohort. I guess I just think it makes sense to build a dance track around the line "you're free to do what you want to do." Like, yeah, that's a sentiment worth dancing to, I can do what I want, and that includes the hully-gully and other fashionable dances.

8.25.2007

22) "Ayo Technology," 50 Cent ft./Timbaland & Justin Timberlake

"We need a hook for this song. We have the biggest stars in music, the hottest producer on the track doing his usual thing, we just need that hook, something that people will SCREAM in the clubs!" What if we have J Timbies complain about technology? "...Hm. OK. OK. Tell me, I can't remember Fifty's ver -- sorry, Fiddy's verses, but does he mention technology at all?" Nah. "So J Timbies is going to complain about technology..." Just because. "Well should we add any references to technology to the song at all?" Nah. "I LOVE IT! Hit 'em with the suckerpunch! Gentlemen, and you are all gentlemen because this is 2007, we've done it! Another hit which will last in the public consciousness forever! Let us enjoy rich people drinks, like scotch probably!"

45) "If You're Reading This," Tim McGraw

this is boring and we don't talk enough about how tim mcgraw and josh groban at some point became the same entity

56) "The Pretender," Foo Fighters

Rock might be the one genre where "they just don't make songs like this anymore" is an actual statement worth making. Like when's the last time we heard a rock band attack a song like Foo Fighter does here? Even the latest Foo Fighters song felt perfunctory, like rock for the sake of making rock music in 2017, and not for the sake of making something cool and rebellious. And that's not to say there isn't great pure rock being made outside of the mainstream (shout out to Sheer Mag!), but the rock music that's trying to break into the mainstream either feels stale or is Imagine Dragons. Nothing feels even a tenth as dangerous as the first half-minute of the song, where things feel too quiet, where you know Foo Fighters isn't releasing one of their acoustic songs as a single and are waiting for something to happen to fuck you up. Rock in the mainstream doesn't have that danger anymore, and even this song, I'm describing a wait for something you know is gonna happen, not an anticipation of anything that could happen. I enjoy this song, is what I tried and failed to say in the rest of this passage. We're comin' up on 3:45 and I'm only vaguely aware where I am right now because I so rarely leave my apartment.

65) "S.O.S.," Jonas Brothers

These delightful little scamps made a whole bunch of adorable, enjoyable pop/rock music that isn't really worth any sort of deep analytical plunge! I still don't understand how one of these kids ended up making "Chains." Like, I get that Nick Jonas wanted to shed that Disney image, but he didn't need to prance around shirtless like a gigolo just so he could seem more "adult." (Bob are you trying to comment on how we treat male pop stars as opposed to female pop stars?) I'm just saying, I would respect Nick Jonas a lot more if it seemed like he respected himself. I don't think it's very meninist to try to sell sex, y'know? (Bob don't post this.) WATCH ME

74) "International Players Anthem (I Choose You)," U.G.K. ft./OutKast

This song is a miracle we don't deserve. "So I typed a text to a girl I used to see/Sayin that I chose this cutie pie with whom I wanna be/And I apologize if this message gets you down/Then I CC'd every girl that I'd see see round town" This song STARTS with those lines. And like Dre's verse obviously gets attention, but gosh, the way the beat is pared down to just the drum and bass when Big Boi begins his verse and the whole song goes quiet as a mouse as he says what he needs to say, it's so good. This song is so good, it's worth forgiving the minor homophobic slur tossed out by Pimp C. Like, aside from that one small unfortunate misstep, this song is absolutely perfect, peak OutKast, almost peak Southern rap, it's SO GOOD! It's so good, man. Hold on tight to the memory of this song, stormy waters ahead.

93) "I Got it from My Mama," will.i.am

"Be a good girl and thank your mama/She made you steamin' like a sauna." BEEP BOOP BOOP BEEP BOOP BOOP BEEP "Hello, my daughter!" "Hi, Mom!" "To what do I owe this call on this lovely Tuesday morning?" "I just wanted to say thank you." "Aw! Sweetie! You just made my day!" "Yeah will.i.am wants to fuck me because of how you made me so hot." Who on earth okayed this song. Who heard this and said, "okay." Your reaction to this song should not be "okay."

94) "Over You," Daughtry

One of my favorite things on the World Wide Web (aka, The Infonet) is "How You Remind Me of Someday," which plays one Nickelback song in one ear and a different Nickelback song in the other to show how Nickelback uses the same chord progressions and drum fills in two songs they said were different. There is a video that no longer exists, likely because Vote for the Worst no longer exists (I think they made it), which played this song and Nickelback's "Photograph" side by side to similar results. What I'm trying to say is, rock died despite Foo Fighters' best efforts and now we all have to listen to Imagine Dragons because Daughtry couldn't be bothered to try harder.

99) "Wake up Call," Maroon 5

Like all Maroon 5 songs, this is acceptable.

26 August 2017

70) "The Race," by Tay-K

This was certainly a freestyle. I feel like I'm missing something here, like there's some reason this song charted beyond my limited scope. A lot of the search results on YouTube brought up Lil Yachty, so maybe there's a remix of the freestyle, but I honestly don't give enough of a shit to contend with Lil Yachty after Billboard said I wouldn't have to. I hope he's set free or whatever assuming he's innocent of whatever people claimed he did or that he’s served enough time for whatever he did, again, I’m not going to research because his rap name is dumb and I don’t feel like sifting through Google. I’m sure it’s bad, whatever the situation is.

76) "Patty Cake," by Kodak Black

Nope!

81) "OMG," Camila Cabello ft./Quavo

This is actually a reasonable trap song. I can't tell if I'm actually enjoying this or if I'm reacting to the novelty of a pop starlet trying her hand at a trap impression, but I'm pretty convinced this is a strong, strong attempt at a trap song from someone who probably has no business trying to enter into this genre. I'm also kind of refreshed by a trap song which doesn't create a new gross dick descriptor in every verse. It's pretty alright!

82) "What About Us," by Pink

This is a tasteful amount of '90s dance influence. Maybe it's not just '90s dance but dance in general, I don't think dance music has undergone a ton of change in the past ever, but like y'all get it probably, the way this song is more propulsive than the standard "we've got to do something!" ballad. It has a nice kick to it, is what I'm trying to say, and a nice kick is generally what Pink has delivered in her long and storied musical career, as she becomes the 32nd member of the '07-'17 Decade Dance Club. Would that Choice had hit and Pink could join Tim McGraw and Jay-Z in the Double Dance!

84) "Perplexing Pegasus," by Rae Sremmurd

look. when you put the word pegasus in your song title, i have certain expectations. i am not looking for a boilerplate trap song about how foreign cars make girls horny. i am expecting something MAJESTIC AS IS BEFITTING A WINGED HORSE. this song has utterly failed to meet my rigorous standards for songs about pegasi. i am being informed that the pegasus is also a foreign car and i 100% do not give a shit, give me fantasy trap or give me death.

94) "B.E.D." by Jacquees

This dude seems like a legit vocalist. I dunno, I think 2007 took me to dizzying highs, and 2017 is giving me a bunch of songs that would get a B like it usually does, but in this case, this song gets a B because I think the dude aims to one day do better, more ambitious things than this song. Also, let's consider the moral downfall of America as told by the progression of '90s R&B music. In 1997, we had Usher considering leaving his girlfriend before taking up with a new lover and four nice boys begging that a young woman (or four!) show them mercy and forgive them for hurting her, and the one song that was about fucking was laden with innuendo and operated under a set fuck schedule, “fucking will be taking place in the designated fuck hours.” Like, it was about fucking, but the fucking was inferred, not stated. In 2017, we have this young man saying "I don't wanna love/I just wanna fuck" in the chorus of a song that was released to radio. Also, a Nazi wasn't president in 1997. It truly was better back then.

95) "Chillin' Like a Villain," by Sofia Carson, Cameron Boyce, Booboo Stewart & Mitchell Hope

WE NEED TO MAKE THIS WORLD A BETTER PLACE FOR THESE DELIGHTFUL DANCING TEENS. This song is woefully bereft of Captain Hook's gay son, yes, but most songs are, so we won't hold that against this delightful dance jam I am in no way qualified to speak about, since I have not seen the film and am also turning 28 on Saturday, like what is this life choice I have made for 30-some weeks in a row.

99) "Havana," by Camila Cabello ft./Young Thug

This is gonna make for a dope Postmodern Jukebox because it's already halfway there, it already kind of sounds like someone listened to "The Girl from Ipanema" and said, "How much can I water this shit down before the song is ready for 2017 pop radio?" A lot, but also, I love the way horns herald Young Thug's arrival, and I think this is the most I've enjoyed a Young Thug guest spot since his verse on that one Drake song. It's really cool that Camila Cabello is exploring all these different genres, and I've ended up enjoying all the songs she's put out this year. I mean, I miss Lorde? I wish we would've kept Lorde around? But Camila Cabello's been pretty dope, her songs are a lot of fun, and I'm okay with her being the current queen of pop, if that's what the world has decided it wants.

Who won the week?

These girls are smart, Three Stacks, these girls are smart. Play your part.

2017: 12 1997: 11 2007: 10

2007 on that comeback trail! They’ve got a few weeks to collect Ws before it settles in for what looks like a long winter. Can it overcome 11 songs of 1997 nonsense and whatever OK songs 2017 will bring to us next week? BET ON IT BET ON IT BET ON IT BET ON IT

[lovemesomesurveys]

what is the second to last letter of your first name? ”I.” how bout the last letter of your last name? -- 5th letter of your middle name? -- what time was it 17 minutes ago? 6:09AM. when was the last time you ate your favorite food? I had ramen a few hours ago, which is one of my favorite foods.

what food is that? ^^^ describe the shoes you wore today I haven’t worn any so far and have no plans to. do you drink coffee? I sure do. what song are you currently listening to? I’m not listening to music; I’m listening to an ASMR video. tell me a line from that song -- how long has your favorite animal been your favorite animal? I’ve loved giraffes and dogs since I was a kid. when was the last time you spoke to your mom? Last night before she went to bed. tell me about something interesting you did today It’s only 6:28AM so not much. I dozed off around 230ish and woke up at like 5:45 needing pain medicine and then decided to scroll through Tumblr and do some surveys for a bit in hopes that I’ll be able to fall back asleep soon. do you have a job? where? Nope. what is your pet (if you have one) doing right this second? She’s in the living room so I can’t see her at the moment, but I’m going to assume she’s on her couch asleep. what kind of pet is that? She’s a doggo. what is/was your favorite subject in school? English. do you have an instagram? Yes. if so how many posts do you have? *shrug* I don’t feel like checking. have you ever been to Europe? No, but hopefully someday. if so, what country(ies)? -- what's your favorite number? The number 8. does that number have any particular significance to you? Yes. what did you buy the last time you went to the mall? Christmas gifts. what battery percent is your phone at right now? 59%. can you juggle? Nope. what do you expect to be doing in 3 hours from now? Sleeping, hopefully. have you ever done any acting/theater? I actually took a couple acting classes for electives at community college. I’m still surprised I did that. how is your hair currently styled? It’s up in its usual messy bun. do you have a pinterest? I do. if so are you addicted to it like me? No, but I do like spending some time on it. do you know anyone who lives in Massachusetts? No. what's the last movie you saw in theaters? I saw A Quiet Place 2 a few days ago. It was nice being at the movies again and finally getting my movie theater popcorn I had been craving. did you enjoy it? Yeah. what's your favorite color combination? I love pastel combos. can you speak any foreign languages? if so, which one(s)? I can speak a little Spanish. say something in said language: (and its translation) ”Estoy cansada pero no puedo dormir.” --> “I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.” what are your plans for tomorrow? I don’t have any. have you ever visited the location of your favorite movie? I haven’t visited any movie locations, but I think that’s cool and would love to do that with several locations. ever read The Book Thief? (if not you should, it's really good) Nope. what's been the best part of your summer so far? Nothing so far. I hope to make a few beach trips, though. do you know what boomwhackers are? Uhh, no. how about a vibraslap? Nope. what's the last thing you took a picture of? **starting this at a later time* I think it was a screenshot. what's your computer's wallpaper? Alexander Skarsgard. how about your phone? I have a Grumpy Bear Care Bear theme going on currently. what's the last thing you watched on youtube? I’m currently watching a YouTube video. how many facebook friends do you have? (if you have facebook) 100 and something. do you use vsco? I have the app, but I’ve hardly used it. what kind of phone do you have? An iPhone 12 Pro Max. are you musically inclined? No, unfortunately. if so, in what way(s)? -- do you prefer to type in word or google docs? I used Google Docs throughout university. what color is your water bottle? I don’t have a reusable water bottle. are you smart?? I feel I’m just very average. besides basic human nessecities what's one thing you can't live without?: I’d really like to always have my coffee, ha. what religion are you? Christian. have you ever seen your favorite animal in real life? Yes. tell me about a song that has personal significance to you. The acoustic version of “Everlong” by Foo Fighters. what are your opinions on Hamilton? The play or the person? does your cat purr really loud? (if you have a cat) -- does your cat have major mood swings? -- who do you admire? My mom. last time you went to starbucks, what did you order? A venti peppermint white chocolate mocha. have you ever gotten a really good grade on a test you didn't study for? Not a test, but essays and assignments that I may have BS’ed a little. how about a bad grade when you studied really hard? Yes. what's your favorite book you had to read for school? One of them is A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. how about your favorite book in general? I couldn’t choose just one. ever heard of the musical Honk!? (the ! goes with the title) No. have you ever met your favorite celebrity? No. who is that person? Alexander Skarsgard. how many times have you seen your favorite movie? I have many favorite movies. can you count to 100 in any languages other than English? Spanish. when was the last time you went to the beach? September 2019 aka waaaay too long ago. what's your dream concert? Hmm. what state do you live in? California. have you ever been in a youtube video? Yes. I’ve uploaded some vidoes before a longgg time ago, but those will remain private now forever. I don’t know wth I was thinking lol they’re so lame. A friend and I uploaded a few as well that are just like...why. how about in the newspaper? Yes. on TV? Yes, on my local news. on the radio? To request a song back in the day. do you prefer to call, text, or email people? Text. what's your dream job? I don’t have one. :/ last time you were in a theater/concert hall/auditorium what was it for? I saw The Phantom of the Opera a few years ago with my aunt. do you have pierced ears? Yeah, my earlobes are pierced. what's your favorite grocery store? We do our grocery shopping at Walmart and it works out fine. tell me a line from a song you particularly love I have many favorite songs. do you like elephants? Sure. how about giraffes? I love giraffes. describe the shirt you're wearing? I’m wearing an Adidas dress shirt. It’s quite comfortable. what did you have for lunch? I haven’t had lunch, yet, it’s only 6:57AM. is it sunny outside? Not yet. can you stand on your head? No. what's your favorite restaurant? I don’t have one. would you rather travel to the past or the future? The past. what's the best gift you've ever received? I couldn’t possibly choose. describe your perfect day. A nice, relaxing day at the beach. did you have chicks in your class in elementary school? Yes, I went to co-ed schools. I’m also a “chick.” Or are you referring to baby chickens? That would be odd, but *shrug* maybe that was the norm where you’re from lol. do you doodle in your notebooks? Yeah. what month is your birthday in? July. how many times a day do you brush your teeth? At least once, but I try for twice. when did you last change a lightbulb? I don’t remember. what's the last song you sang? I don’t recall at the moment. do you know anyone who had a baby recently? Someone on my Facebook did. do you avoid the cracks on the sidewalk? Yes. name 3 things in your refridgerator. Creamer, soda, leftover pesto pasta from last night. have you ever won an award? Honor roll awards and club stuff.

last time you had ice cream, what flavor? I had a homemade chocolate banana milkshake last night that was made with vanilla ice cream. what other tabs do you currently have open? Pinterest, Bzoink, YouTube, and Google. what's the 4th song in your iTunes under letter S? *shrug* I haven’t used iTunes since like 2012. the 2nd song under letter M? -- do you prefer to travel by car or plane? Depends how far I’m going. what internet browser do you use? Chrome. what's your favorite kitchen utensil? Forks and spoons are pretty great. how do you feel about ducks? They’re cute. ever ridden a horse? No. can you eat with chopsticks? I haven’t given them much of a try, but when I have I was flimsy and just gave up quite quickly. do you know what imbakwa moyo means? (without looking it up)? No. tell me a line from the song you're currently listening to. I’m not listening to music. have you ever been to a u-pick berry farm? No. are you good at dancing? Nope. would you like to swing on a star? That sounds terrifying. have you ever forgotten to do your homework? I was good on staying on top of that because I worried about that happening. do you like Shakespeare? No. if so, which play is your favorite? -- are there certain words/phrases that trigger songs in your brain? Yeah. would you rather read a book or watch a movie? Depends on my mood. who sent the last text message you received? My dad. don't you hate that rainbow spinning wheel on the computer? It’s quite annoying. how many minutes are in a year? 525, 600 minutes. do you only know that from Seasons of Love? Yep. what's your favorite article of clothing? My oversized grahic tees and leggings. Although, these shirt dresses I recently got are very comfortable and convenient. do you prefer even or odd numbers? I don’t have a preference. ever heard a hammer dulcimer? No. do you enjoy going to the library? I loved going to the library as a kid. I went all the time. when did you last write someone an actual letter? I have no idea. what's the last gift you received? A new pair of Beats wireless earbuds. did you know that strawberries and raspberries are not actually berries? I did know that. I still say they are anyway. are you good at spelling? I think so. can you roll your r's Nope. can you lick your elbow? Nope. do you have a twitter? I do. do you recycle? Yeah, cans and plastic bottles. when's the last time you rode the bus? Like 5 years ago. I used to have to take it sometimes in college. what's the longest vacation you've been on? A week. what's your favorite kind of donut? Glazed and maple.  do you own anything from Vera Bradley? No. when you go in a pool do you jump in or use the ladder? I don’t do either. I can’t swim, so if I’m going to get into the pool I have to be helped into an inner tube. do you have perfect pitch? Uh, no. I have no athletic abilities. what's your mom's name? I don’t know if she wants me sharing that. do you have an uncle called Steve? Nope. do you have multiple friends with the same name? I don’t have any friends. do you play neko atsume? No. I don’t even know what it is. what did you think of The Fault In Our Stars? I liked the book and the movie. did you prefer the book or the movie? ^^^ The movie actually had me really crying, though. do you like yogurt? Nah. do you like riding on carousels? Nah. ever played with a pinwheel? Yes. do you like museums? I do. if so, what type is your favorite? I like historical ones. is your bedroom a mess? It’s a little cluttered at the moment. Things have been hectic and I have all these medical supplles spread out right now. what's your favorite thing to eat at Thanksgiving? Turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, my brother’s homemade baked mac and cheese, rolls, appetizers... ever had a treehouse? No. have you ever seen a kangaroo in real life? No. a year ago today, what were you doing? I could check my Timehop app again and see, but nah. are you procrastinating on something? Not at the moment. do you have a brother? I have two. a sister? No. do you know what a pandereta is? No. are you currently reading a book? I am. what book is it? ”The Girl and the Unlucky 13″ by AJ Rivers. how are you today?? Eh, alright. when's the last time you used a dictionary? I don’t recall. which do you dislike more, doctor or dentist? The dentist. what's the last thing you searched on google? About a movie. do you ever have conversations via text/email with people in the same room? I have. what was your favorite book when you were a little kid? I had many. I’ve always loved to read. ever owned a pet bunny? Nope. how about a goldfish? Yes. what color hair do you have? Naturally, it’s dark brown, but I dye it red. what did you eat for dinner? I haven’t had dinner, yet, but probably just some leftover pesto pasta from last night. what song, if any, is currently stuck in your head? None at the moment. are you right handed or left handed? Right handed. what website did you last visit? (besides this one) Google. what time do you usually go to bed? When the sun is coming up. Sigh. have you seen the movie Miracles From Heaven? No. what is your opinion on muffins? I love muffins. do you remember your locker combination? I don’t have a locker. do you listen to classical music? I haven’t in a long time. ever take buzzfeed quizzes? Yeah. what's your favorite store? Boxlunch and Hot Topic. when's the last time you were onstage? My UC graduation back in 2015. does it snow where you live? No. :( do you like pasta? I loveee pasta. how about chinese food? Yeah. do you prefer to color with markers or colored pencils? Colored pencils for sure. do you usually look good in pictures? Ha, no. I never do. describe the case on your phone It’s a Winnie the Pooh one. what kind of shoes did you wear today? I didn’t. have you seen any plays/musicals recently? No. what's your favorite thing you've been for Halloween? Eh, I don’t really have a favorite. what do you like to eat at the movies? I have to get popcorn. It’s a must. what was your favorite TV show when you were 10? Whatever was on Nickelodeon and Disney Channel basically. do you have neat handwriting? No, my handwriting is shit. what's your favorite quote? I have several. when did you last have a glass of water? Like an hour ago. what's your shoe size? 6 in women’s US. do you wish you were older or younger? Younger. I’d even be fine if I just stayed this age. do you have more than one best friend? No. when did you last brush your teeth? This afternoon. are you wearing socks? Yep. Always. are your nails painted? Nope. I haven’t painted my nails in years. why do people park in a driveway and drive on a parkway? It is what it is. is the glass half empty or half full? Mine is empty. where was the last beach you went to? About 2 hours away. why does the dentist talk to you when they have stuff in your mouth? I never understood that either. when did you last get a haircut? Over a year ago. how many lights are on in the room you're in? Three. do you like wolves? They’re beautiful animals. what are the first 3 digits of your phone number? --- how long is the song you're currently listening to? I’m not listening to music. have you ever bought anything on etsy? Yeah, a lot of things. do you prefer breakfast or dinner? Dinner. have you ever experienced a tornado? No. a hurricane? No. an earthquake? No. do you like sushi? Ew, nooo. are you registered to vote? I am. when did you last eat waffles? A couple days ago. do you wear glasses? Yes. do you like spicy food? I loved spicy food, but I can’t have it anymore. :( do you like your neighbors? I don’t know them. do you play 2048? No. what's your dream college? I already went and graduated from college. have you ever been to Africa? No. have you seen your favorite movie more than 5 times? I have many favorite movies and a lot of them I’ve seen countless times. what did you last post on facebook? I shared some meme thing.

do you use a mouse or a trackpad? Trackpad. what's your favorite word? *shrug*

what voice part are you? Huh?

how is your hair currently styled? In a messy bun. how much caffeine have you had today? Just coffee this morning so far. where do you typically do your grocery shopping? Walmart. do you know anyone who has a birthday soon? One of my cousins. when did you last receive mail? Recently. what was it? Bills, of course. are you sitting on a chair? Yeah. what did you last watch on youtube? An ASMR video. is your bedroom upstairs or downstairs? I live in a single story house. are you wearing any jewelry? No. do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Both are nice. have you ever seen Wicked? No. (if you have) what's your favorite song from it? -- what's your favorite game on your phone? I like to play murder mystery games sometimes. do you take surveys a lot? I’d say so. do you wear a watch? Nope. what was your biggest accomplishment of the day? Getting out of bed. did you ever have an American Girl doll? Nah. how about webkinz? No. have you ever seen the awesome fountain in the detroit airport? I’ve never been. ever thought you saw someone you know but it turned out to be a stranger? Ha, yeah. what web browser do you use? Chrome. are you wearing shorts? No. what do you wish you could do this summer? Beach vacays. have you ever skipped school? In college sometimes. has a song ever freaked you out cause the volume was up too loud? Yeah, I’ve jumped many times because of that. I’m so jumpy. do you have an ipad? No. is there anyone who you miss even though you don't know them very well? No. what's your favorite time period in history? I find various times in history interesting.  when's the last time you were in a church? It’s been five years since I’ve been in an actual church, but I’ve been attending the live streams to a local church for over a year now. how do you typically watch movies? Certain movies, like the ones I’m really into and excited about or just think looks really good, I like to go see in theaters for the first time. I also watch through some streaming service or on TV. besides money, what would you like a lifetime supply of? My favorite foods. do you like rain? I love it. do you shop at thrift stores? No. look behind you! what's there? My back pillow is right behind me. who did you last talk to outside the family? My doctor.

can you touch your tongue to your nose? No. what/who do you fangirl/boy over? Alexander Skarsgard. where does your dad work? A car repair shop. have you ever caught a fish? No. do you play candy crush? Nope. Never got into those games. flappy bird? No. do you have an ipod? Yeah, but it’s been stored away and unused since 2012. do you celebrate christmas? Yes. I love Christmas. how many songs do you know all the words to? Many. when did you last eat a donut? A few days ago. what's your favorite ride at the fair/amusement park? My favorite amusement park is Disneyland and I enjoy majority of the rides. what are 3 things you want to do before you die? Get my shit together, do something with my life, and travel. have you ever shopped on redbubble? Yes. what is on the walls of your bedroom? Some canvases and framed photos. what brand of toothpaste do you use? Sensodyne. what do you wear to bed? Clothes. do you eat seafood? Nopee. who do you admire? My mom. what color is your computer? Silver. do you do your own laundry? I need help with that, which my mom does. ever broken a bone? yes. what restaurant did you last go to? The last one I physically went to and ate at was Denny’s last year before the pandemic hit. I get takeout regularly, though, from various restaurants and fast food places. what do you spend most of your money on? Food. when did you last see your cousins? It’s been awhile. when's the last time you saw a rainbow? I don’t remember.  when's the last time you were on a boat? Years ago. what time do you usually get up? Between like 9 and 11 lately. do you like fluffy cats? Sure. what's your favorite time of year? Fall, Halloween, winter, and Christmastime. what's the most beautiful song you know? Hmm. what's your favorite stuffed animal? All my many, many giraffes and my two Baby Yoda plushies. what do you put in your ice cream sundae? Strawberry syrup. any plans for the weekend? No. is it sunny outside? No, it’s 11:40PM. have you read the hunger games? Yep, I read the series. can you speak Spanish? Very little. do you like enchiladas? Sure.

[prairiechzhead]

30 Questions

I was sort of tagged by @mmmuses for this. 

1. Nicknames: Kathy. When I was a kid, it was Katie. Kathy is actually what I prefer to go by. My full real first name is Katherine. 

2. Gender: Female

3. Star Sign: Aquarius

4. Height: 5′ 6″

5. Time: 1:37 pm. 

6. Birthday: January 23

7. Favorite Bands: Foo Fighters (they’re coming to Sioux Falls in November and I’ve got tickets!), the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Love a lot of 80s & 90s stuff, because that was when I was in high school & a young adult respectively. Love rock in general. My musical taste is eclectic. I tend to like songs more than artists. 

8. Favorite Solo Artists: Janis Joplin, Prince, Bowie. Again, I tend to like songs more than artists. 

9. Song Stuck in my Head: “You’re Dead” by Norma Tanega. 

If you’ve ever seen the movie “What We Do In the Shadows”, then you’ve heard this song. 

10. Last Movie I Watched:  “Alarm”. It was part of my Sunday Aidan Turner Binge-watch. 

11. Last Show I Watched: News coverage of the eclipse. I didn’t get to see the actual eclipse because we were having some severe thunderstorms and flash flooding when it was going on. 

12. When Did I Create This Blog: I don’t even remember. I started it and then it sat for a few years before I revived it earlier this year. 

13. What do I Post: Aidan Turner related stuff because I have a huge crush on him, even though he’s 13 years younger than me, but I don’t care about that. It’s not about that scything scene, either. Anyone who says they’re reading an obscure novel by George Orwell is smart and smart guys are hot, period. End of sentence. A guy can have the most killer set of abs in the written and oral history of killer abs, but if he’s dumber than a box of rocks, the hot bod alone is not enough to hold my interest. 

I also like to post memes, cute animal pictures, some of the weird shit I find online, some political stuff, and things I find funny. 

14. Last Thing I Googled: “When was slavery outlawed in New York”. I’m into genealogy and I stumbled across a distant cousin who was also a slave owner. I know that people in the Northern states owned slaves, but I googled this because I thought slavery was abolished in the North before 1800. This ancestor had 3 slaves listed in his household on the 1810 census, and that’s what caught my attention. 

In case you were wondering, slavery was abolished in New York State in 1827. 

No, I’m not proud that I have ancestors who were slave owners, either. 

15. Do You Have Any Other Blogs: No, but I’ve been toying with starting another one, but I don’t know what it would be about. 

16. Do You Get Asks: Occasionally. 

17. Why Did You Choose Your URL: PrairieChzHead comes from the fact that I wanted to change my Twitter handle to “Little Cheesehead on the Prairie”, but it was too long. I’m originally from Wisconsin, which is famous for cheese and people who live there are called Cheeseheads. (Contrary to popular belief, the term cheesehead refers to anyone from Wisconsin. Packers fans are just called “Packers fans”.). I moved to Sioux Falls, South Dakota about six years ago, which is part of the Great Plains. Ergo “PrairieChzHead”. 

18. Following: 374

19. Followers: 138

21: Average Hours of Sleep: Not enough. It depends on if the Constantly Boinking Couple Next Door are Constantly Boinking. (When I gave them that nickname, little did I know that they would actually live up to that. Oh, and they’re very loud, too.) 

22. Lucky Number: Whatever one wins me the Powerball jackpot. 

23. Instruments: I used to play clarinet in the school band. I also am a self-taught piano player. 

24. What Am I Wearing Right Now:  Capris and a Pinky & the Brain t-shirt

26. Dream Job: Writer or artist. Being an art therapist would be cool, too. 

27. Dream Trip: If money and time were of no object, I would spend considerable time visiting the UK, Ireland, and Australia/New Zealand. I did the Ancestry DNA thing and while it said that I do have a teeny, tiny amount of Irish DNA in me, the Irish ancestors I do have go way back and the clan even has its own Wikipedia page. 

28. Favourite Food: Chocolate. 

29. Nationality: American

30. Favorite Song: I do not have one definitive favorite song. I will pick one of my favorite songs. 

Try (Just A Little Bit Harder) by Janis Joplin

I tag anyone who wants to play along.