#heavy machine rental

[southfloridaequipmentrentals]

South Florida Equipment Rentals: Your Go-To for Mobile Elevating Work Platforms

South Florida Equipment Rentals stands out as the premier heavy equipment rental company in West Palm Beach, Florida. Specializing in a comprehensive array of Mobile Elevating Work Platforms (MEWPs), our inventory caters to all your construction, maintenance, and warehousing needs. Below, we break down the types of MEWPs available, ensuring that every project requirement is seamlessly met.

Boom Lifts

At South Florida Equipment Rentals, our selection of boom lifts is designed to extend your reach efficiently and safely. These versatile lifts are perfect for tasks that require height and flexibility, such as painting, window cleaning, and tree trimming. Our equipment rental agency in West Palm Beach provides boom lifts with robust maneuverability and stability, making them a top choice for projects in complex environments.

Forklifts

As a leading equipment rental company, we offer a range of forklifts that are essential for material handling and inventory tasks. Our forklifts are maintained to the highest standards to ensure reliability and safety. Whether it’s navigating narrow warehouse aisles or lifting heavy materials on construction sites, our forklifts provide the necessary lifting capacity and operational ease.

Telehandler Lifts

Telehandler lifts, or telescopic handlers, are another key part of our MEWP inventory. These machines combine the functionality of a crane and forklift, making them incredibly versatile for a variety of tasks, including material lifting and moving at various heights. Ideal for industries such as agriculture and construction, our telehandlers ensure that you can lift and reach with confidence and precision.

Articulating Boom Lifts

The articulating boom lifts available at South Florida Equipment Rentals are specifically designed for areas with limited access in construction and industrial sites. With joints that bend, these lifts can maneuver around obstacles and reach over and above barriers. Perfect for indoor and outdoor tasks, our articulating boom lifts help you complete work in tight spaces without compromising on efficiency.

Scissor Lifts

For projects that require a straight vertical lift, our scissor lifts are the perfect solution. These platforms offer stability and a sizable workspace, ideal for carrying multiple workers with tools and materials. At our equipment rental company in West Palm Beach, scissor lifts are available in various heights, and are commonly used in construction, tree-felling, roofing, and painting tasks providing a secure platform for any work-at-height job.

Telescopic Boom Lifts

When it comes to tasks that demand a reach both upwards and outwards, telescopic boom lifts form part of our comprehensive equipment rental services in West Palm Beach. These lifts provide an extended reach and are capable of handling tasks in places where access is otherwise restricted. Their strength and reach make them indispensable for many sectors, including construction and telecommunications.

Why Choose Us For Your Lift Rental?

At South Florida Equipment Rentals, we pride ourselves on providing exceptional MEWPs, backed by customer service that’s attentive and knowledgeable. Our commitment to maintaining our equipment ensures that every rental meets your highest expectations. Whether you’re looking to lift, reach, or build, our lift equipment rentals are ready to help you succeed.

With our varied fleet of lifts and our expert team, you can tackle any project with confidence. Visit us in West Palm Beach to find the most suitable MEWPs for your next venture or contact us for advice on selecting the right lift equipment. At South Florida Equipment Rentals, we’re more than just a rental service; we’re your project partner.

[rahultweeks]

Welding aluminum to steel is a topic that often raises questions among welders and fabricators. The combination of these two metals presents challenges due to their inherent differences in properties and behavior during the welding process.

[aggcon]

Top rental service in india

We Aggcon Equipments International Pvt. Ltd, with our establishment in the year, 2003 are engaged in providing all kinds of Rental Services for Infrastructure and Mining Equipment. Our services meet the diverse construction and building needs of multinational organizations, private sector, government organizations, multi storied buildings, main roads, rural roads, highways, airports and motorways.

[deathbecomesthem]

Roomies 4 +18 ONLY

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader | 2.2K - Previous Part

*This series will/does contain smut, angst, and fluff. Each chapter will have its own warnings for any potential triggering contents.

This chapter contains some angsty feelings. The aftermath of some interesting choices between best friends.

---

The alarm is unnecessary. You didn’t sleep. You laid in this bed and let the dread build. At 3:28 in the morning, you put your vibrator back in its spot in the top drawer of your bedside table. It just laid next to you for hours, as if acknowledging it meant you had to acknowledge the fact that you and Eddie… what exactly? You don’t even know. It’s Eddie.

It doesn’t matter right now, because that alarm means you have to get up and take a shower. It means you have to get to the coffee shop and start the mundane tasks involved in over-caffeinating the general college town population. It means you can sneak out of this tiny, two-bedroom apartment before Eddie even wakes up. Thank god for the opening shift.

Except that you hear the distinct sound of the door next to your own open at exactly the same moment yours creaks open. Time stands still, both of you stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Neither fight nor flight, only freeze. And then you realize you’re dressed in a too small bath towel and nothing else. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” you crouch a little, trying to get more coverage from the faded blue terry cloth rectangle you have wrapped around your center, “I thought you’d be sleeping. I’m sorry.”

Eddie averts his eyes after making a clean sweep from your head to your toes, and sighs, “shit, I’m sorry. I just need to take a leak. Uh, can I do that before you get in there?” Eddie’s eyes are focused on a small water spot on the ceiling waiting for your answer. The nightlight in the hallway outlet is the only illumination, but plenty to see the way the apples of his cheeks are turning tomato red.

“Yeah, I’ll wait in here,” you rush back to your room and close the door a little too hard and cringe away from it. The time spent sitting cold and naked on the edge of your bed is plenty to consider the regrets. Eddie’s seen you in your bikini, which leaves less to the imagination than the towel, but things are different.

“All clear. Have fun!” Eddie’s voice calls through the door at you, and you can imagine the grimace on his face at his own words. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go back to bed now.” You wait in your spot until you hear his heavy footsteps move past your door, and the sound of his door closing. 

What the fuck did I do. I ruined everything, that’s what I did. This is the first time you think this today, but it will be the mantra that echoes in your mind over and over. What the fuck did I do?

—

Dry skim milk cappuccino, breve latte, dirty chai, black eye. The drinks don’t stop coming for hours, and you're happy to  shut off your mind while you make the espresso machine perform for you. You ignore the way your hands tremble, over caffeinated and under rested, they still move and answer your requests without fail. Muscle memory, what a gift.

“You taking your break?” Megan points to the clock behind your head. You’ve been standing at the barista station for 4 hours, and you’ve only got 2 left for the day. You consider pushing through to the end, but can already hear your manager’s voice reprimanding you when she looks at your timecard.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in 30.” You wipe the frothing wand and rinse out the portafilters before heading to the food station for a bowl of chicken soup and a half of a stale mini baguette. Whole wheat and hard as a rock. The table in the corner is empty, so you make a bee line, grabbing a discarded campus newspaper on your way. 

You tick down stray answers in the crossword while dipping, letting the bread soak up the broth from your soup when the next page catches your eye. The classifieds. Apartment rentals. It can’t hurt to look, you think. You’d never leave Eddie in a lurch, but what if you could find something next month, let him find someone to replace you. He’d be better off anyway. He’s too sweet to say it, but it’s true.

You ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that’s yelling, this is what you always do. You run away and miss out on good things because you get scared. But you’re not just scared, you’re humiliated. A part of you thought that your little display last night would end with Eddie in your bed. That he’d know instinctively that you want him, and he’d answer your call without you having to actually say anything. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid child. 

Looking for a female roommate, no pets, 3 bedroom apartment, $175/month. You circle that one. Close to campus, nonsmoking, one bedroom unit, $250/month. A little out of your price range, but you circle it anyway. 

By the end of your lunch break you’ve got 6 leads on available apartments, a half eaten soggy baguette, and a bottomless pit of regret in your stomach. 

—

Eddie slept, but was plagued with dreams of your smiling face. That’s all that he can remember - your face accompanied by a deep longing to reach out and touch your skin. He never could, he just kept seeing and wanting, but never reaching. When he woke up for work at 11:00 in the morning, you were sitting in that corner booth at the coffee shop looking for apartments. It would break his heart to know that. 

But he doesn’t know that. He knows that he fucked up last night, even if it’s not clear how. Or why. Or what happened. If something happened. Did something happen, or did he just imagine it? Fuck this fucking noise. His mind is too busy, and it’s not saying anything that makes sense. He wants to sit down and talk with his best friend about it. Let them help make sense of things. He wants to sit with you, his head resting in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair, and tell him he’s thinking about it all wrong. He’s overthinking. It’s not as bad as he thinks.

The fact that he can’t talk to you right now means it is that bad, but he it’s useless to wallow. His work shift at the bar located beneath the hardwood floorboards of your shared apartment ends early. He’s going in before opening to do some handyman work in the bathrooms, and the prep work for the evening crew. He takes the opportunity to not work until 3:00 a.m. whenever he can, especially when Marty offers to pay him cash under the table for his troubles. It also means he can go to the good grocery store, the one that isn’t the shitty 24 hour foodmart that’s the only open joint in the tri county area at 3:30 in the morning. The peanut butter is low, and he wants to grab a can of Maxwell House - a part of him thinks he insists on keeping it in the house just to get under your skin. No Kenya AA or Brazilian Peaberry for Eddie Munson.

So, he does his work and lets his mind leave him for the hours he snakes, caulks, screws, scrubs, chops, and peels. He works in the peaceful silence of the still slumbering college town bar, and walks out several hours later with a handful of cash and grease jammed under his fingernails. The echo of your voice saying his name, Eddie!, at the height of your pleasure the night before only made his feet stumble a few times. He can let it get quieter and quieter. He can let himself forget it. What he can’t do is let one night of stupid behavior ruin something the two of you have spent over a decade building. Pussy comes, and pussy goes - but you are forever.

Pussy comes and pussy goes. He thinks again to himself. He ignores what that small voice in his head adds, but what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch you and make you his.

—

You finally come home at 5:00. It’s much later than you should be going back to the apartment. You spent the interim hours wandering the streets of downtown looking for any “For Rent” signs displayed in apartment windows. You wasted time in the used book store, running your fingers along the spines of the Science Fiction paperbacks. You sat in the arm chair in the back of the shop and looked at the battered collection of Baby-Sitter’s Club books while your eyes grew heavy. And then you decided that the only thing left to do was face the music. Of all days for Eddie to not be closing down the bar.

Eddie’s in the shower. When you open the door to the apartment, you can hear the faint sound of water running from behind the closed bathroom door. A vision of wet curls and rivulets of water running down sharp shoulder blades invades your mind for a split second, but you will it away with a sharp shake of your head. You’re tired, and you think you might be able to get away with a long evening nap that can turn into a night spent alone in your bedroom without any complaints from Eddie. Maybe. 

You spot the note as you’re hanging up your purse. It sits on the small kitchen table, red ink impossible for you to miss, in that scrawling chicken scratch that’s so familiar. 

Not sure when you’ll be home, and if I’ll be around. I ran to the grocery store earlier. I got that wine you like and grabbed a couple of cannoli. You can have 2 of them. Just 2. I swear to god, if you eat my cannoli, I will hunt you down. There’s some de-icer on the counter, since you’re incapable of getting it yourself. I grabbed your library loans while I was out. We can grab some dinner tonight if you’re up for it. 

-E

You stand holding the paper in your hand for a long time. You don’t know how long. You see the bottle of Malbec sitting on the far end of the counter next to a yellow spray bottle of de-icer. You don’t notice that the sound of the water coming from behind the bathroom door has stopped. You’re lost. Overwhelmed. You think about the time you spent furiously looking for an apartment. You think about how badly you wanted to run away - from what? From this? From Eddie? How could you ever want to run from him?

You’re still staring at his sloppily written words while you drift down the hallway. You don’t even hear the sound of the bathroom door open. When you glance up, you see Eddie. The man that bought you treats today. The man that has stepped between you and flying fists. The man that offered you a home when you didn’t have one. 

In the 5 seconds you look at him, your eyes see more than should be possible. His wet curls cling to his shoulders, drops of water traveling from their tips down his chest. Black ink and splatterings of freckles and moles. The towel, too small - just like your own - sits low enough on his hips that your eyes can travel along his happy trail and into that meadow of abundant wiry hair peeking out. His feet, long and flat, stay planted in their spot. He waits for you to look away, but his eyes stay fixed to your face. His chest does not flush, he does not attempt to hide himself.

When your eyes finally flick to the wall, Eddie makes his way towards you. You’re frozen in your spot, but your mind is racing. He’s going to come to me. He’s going to let me touch him. You think about kissing his chest, letting your tongue catch the stray drops of water left behind by the showerhead. But Eddie moves beside you, he passes you by. You can smell Irish Spring and tap water. Your shaking hand reaches for the door handle. 

“So, what do you think? Dinner?” Eddie’s standing at his door, a wide smile on his face. Your favorite smile. “Unless you’ve got a hot date or something?” He twists the knob, but doesn’t move to go into his room, waiting for your answer.

Nothing is the same, but everything is the same. From here on out, the only way this will work is utilizing double-thought. Letting two things be true at one time. Eddie is your best friend. Eddie is a man that your whole body aches for. These are two true things that matter, but one of those truths can only exist in the darkness of your bedroom. One of those things can only be acknowledged when you’re alone for fear of ruining the most important thing in your life.

“Sure, Ed. Chinese and cannoli. Roll a couple of joints.”

[jpitha]

If Humans tolerate a greater amount of ambiguity than other Sapients, their risk tolerance is off the charts. Even a baseline human's risk tolerance would make any non-deathworlder sapient excrete themselves with fear and run the other way.

Timothy the human is with his friend Selleg, who he has offered to take to Earth for a week to "see the sights." They are at the spaceport, having just disembarked.

Selleg struggles with his new wheeled luggage. "Ugh, it's so heavy here."

"I'm sorry. I forget that you're not used to Earth gravity. Do you need me to wheel your luggage?" Timothy looks on with genuine concern for his friend.

"I'll be fine. I just hope we don't have to walk too far."

"Nah, the car-rental booth is right here, I'll get us a car and we can drive to my parents."

At the rental booth, Selleg is fascinated with the whole process. Timothy and the clerk go through the options and different kinds of vehicles available. Timothy is asked if he wants "the extra insurance" and he agrees immediately. He exchanges payment and with keys in hand, they walk to the lot.

"I had no idea there were so many different cars to choose from." Selleg remarks. Back home, everyone takes mass transit. Personally owned vehicles don't really exist."

"Really? Huh. I'd love to check it out someday!" They approach a red, low slung vehicle. It has that look that most human machines do of being alive and ready to pounce. Leave it to a predator species to make everything look like it's also a predator. "Okay! Here, I'll put your suitcase in the trunk and we'll set off."

They get in, and Timothy shows Selleg how the seatbelts work. "Just across your body like this and then click the silver part into the slot with the red button there. With a satisfying clunk, the seatbelt is secured. Selleg stares at all the buttons and dials and screens and switches. "Why are there so many displays?"

"What? Oh. Some tell me things about the car, and it's speed, temperature, mileage, things like that, others are for the entertainment system, and still others are for the heating and cooling."

Selleg stopped "The operation of the car is not automatic?"

Timothy shook his head "Nah, it's all manual. Don't worry, I know how to drive."

"You. Operate. This. Vehicle?" Selleg was clearly nervous.

"Sure! I've been doing it since I was 16. Only had one bad accident that whole time." Timothy pushed the start/stop button and the car roared to life. It settled down into a burbling idle. "I sprung for the sports car. It's been a while since I've driven, and I probably won't get another chance for a long time, so I decided to treat myself!"

"You haven't driven in a long time and decided to get a more powerful car anyway?"

"I'll be careful." Timothy promised. Let's go!" He put it in gear and pulled out into traffic.

****

"THAT WAS INSANE! YOU ARE INSANE!" Selleg was yelling.

"That was a perfectly normal drive!" Timothy pleaded. "Selleg, there was nothing unusual about it."

"You were driving less than two meters from the other cars!"

"It was heavy traffic."

"You were going over 100kph!?!"

"All the other cars were too" Timothy answered weakly.

"We passed three crashed cars!!"

"Yeah? Cars crash. Usually it's the drivers fault. I didn't see any ambulances, so everyone was probably all right."

"DON'T YOU THINK THEN THAT MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T ALL BE DRIVING???" Selleg's fur was bristled and he was pacing.

"I'm sorry you were worried Selleg, it was a perfectly normal drive. I thought you'd be nervous about your first car ride so I drove carefully."

"That was carefully?" This is normal for humans?"

"Driving? Yes. that was by all accounts a perfectly normal drive. Some humans even like it"

In the high gravity of Earth, Selleg sat down heavily. "What have I signed up for?"

Timothy looked at his friend. "I'll just go ahead and cancel the skydiving tickets." he said sadly.

[juneberrie]

THAT BAD .𖥔 ݁ ˖ MILES MORALES X READER

requested by @lee-says-things

summary miles is bad at bowling

author's note i wrote this and then stupid tumblr didn't save the draft 😠 so this is technically the rewrite! hope u like it <3

word count 0.3k

warnings gn!reader, could be either 42 or 1610 miles, petnames (babe mostly)

"im telling you now, babe," miles says. "i'm terrible at bowling. i haven't been since like, third grade." the two of you are sitting side by side on a vinyl couch, tying the rental shoes.

"oh, come on, miles, you can't be that bad," you reassure him. you get up, having finished tying your shoes, and start inputting your names onto the machine. "i mean, its just rolling a ball."

"if it's just rolling a ball, then why's it considered a sport?" miles goes to the conveyer and picks up a ball, nearly dropping it. "jesus, why is this thing so heavy?" he heaves it up with both hands.

"i don't know, miles," you smile. once both of your names pop up on the screen, you grab a ball of your own and roll it into the lane. it doesn't go into the gutters, but veers slightly off-center. it ends up only knocking down three pins. turning to miles with a smile, you gesture for him to take his turn.

with both hands, he practically throws his ball onto the slippery lane. almost immediately, the ball slides towards the gutter. you can hear miles quietly mumbling "no" as he watches his ball roll down the gutter. he groans when it gets to the end and disappears behind a wall. he sits down on the vinyl couch and puts his head in his hands. "im terrible!" he moans.

you bite back a smile and stand between your boyfriend's legs. tilting his face up, you say, "you're not... that bad!"

he glares at you. "it didn't even go halfway, babe."

"well, you just need a few pointers," you reply. "i can help. i'm not so bad at bowling, if i do say so myself."

his face lights up, a small smile stretching his lips. "really? you'd do that?"

"yeah," you grin.

he jumps up and presses a kiss to your cheek. "you're amazing, baby," he exclaims.

"yeah, i am," you laugh.

"no, you really are. i love you." his earlier enthusiam turns into an awkward, adoring smile.

"i love you too, miles."

[heavy-construction-equipment]

How Renting of Heavy Machines Prevent Market Fluctuations

Are you in a dilemma about whether to buy or rent heavy construction machines for your upcoming projects? If yes, then it is preferable to have a construction machine on rent to prevent yourself from market fluctuations. https://www.sugaminfra.com/renting-heavy-machines-prevent-market-fluctuations/

[southfloridaequipmentrentals]

South Florida Equipment Rentals Delivers Top-tier Equipment Rentals in West Palm Beach

South Florida Equipment Rentals is your relied-on associate for top-tier Equipment Rentals in West Palm Beach. Whether you’re a pro contractor or a DIY fanatic, we’ve got you covered. Our huge fleet consists of growth lifts, aerial painting systems, scissor lifts, and telehandlers—all meticulously maintained and equipped for movement. Need equal-day delivery? No hassle! We always focus on our patron satisfaction. When it involves reliability, affordability, and quality, South Florida Equipment Rentals stands tall. Contact us now at (561) 374-4200 or visit us at https://southflequipmentrentals.com/.

[cleanlandrental]

CLEANLAND (Model: VS-Shakti-6000): Watch a Powerful Sweeper Truck in Action

[fjtrickster-blog]

Raph Ninpo

Raph's ninpo is something I think that not only gets over looked but also his progress with it in the series.

I was rewatching season one and couldn't help but reflect that everyone makes a big deal about Mikey being the one with all the mystic mojo and stuff when the one who really does the heavy lifting and is shown to grow with his power is actually Raph.

I mean yes Mikey makes his mystic weapon activate first and he clearly has a knack for mystic stuff. However we don't see Mikey really do much with his powers over the course of the series. So I guess in terms of brothers you have Leo actively struggling with his. Donnie having none of it, and Mikey not having any real issues at all.

But here's a point I'd sit on. Mystics and Ninpo are not the same thing. They are similar but I was thinking on this. Ninpo is made out to be a big deal and is about connection and family and just the power of love. And the cool thing? This is hinted at through the whole of season 1.

BY RAPH.

I wish I could find screen shots to add to my points but while Mikey just makes his weapon work and then has zero issues for the rest of the show. Raph has active progression with his powers all tied to specific moments.

Raph catching Leo is the iconic one of this but there are a few littler ones throughout. Raph's giant form actually shows up as soon as the Paper Theif episode. All his brothers are caught by the giant oragami ninja and Raph charges in and actually for a brief moment goes huge. A more interesting point though that gets over looked Raph uses his ninpo once without his weapons prior to season two. During the late fee episode when they find a mutant silver fish Raph throws his basket ball. If you look during this scene the ball glows with his ninpo energy and that's why it goes through the silverfish and the rental machine. This is the only example of the turtles not using their weapons to use their powers prior to the season 2 finale. It's a fun detail I wish was talked about more because it has implications to the debate of "do the turtles need their weapons" to do things.

A small complaint though is how under appreciated Raph's ninpo can be. Donnie's abilities are free realistate, Leo's straight forward (though not really as abused as they could be c'mon folks I know you've played portal), and Mikey is a freaking wizard who can do what he wants.

Raph however gets "big form hulk smash" which is fair but I hate how his ninpo upgrade is like ignored 90% of the time. More than that there are neat ideas where this power does interesting things like when Raph throws himself with his own big form. More over he has freaking SHADOW CLONES! I want Raph to be Narutoing up the scene! Even if they're not solid (which maybe could make them solid we only have ONE SCENE TO WORK WITH!) it's still a fun thing that can make their total chaos fighting style even better.

SOMEONE APPRECIATE HOW COOL RAPH IS!

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Northern Light

Thirty-six hours before Jeff Buckley died, I saw him standing on a quiet Memphis street corner. A sheriff's car had pulled over, and the beige-suited federale stood towering above him. Jeff was my neighbor and friend, so I turned my car around to see if I could extract him from his tangle.

The incident had ended by the time I got there. It began raining. I pulled up next to Jeff. He didn't like strangers stopping him, and he kept his face forward as I drove beside him. He didn't look up until I spoke, then he stormed into the car, furious that the deputy had stopped to ask who he was; Jeff thought the lawman recognized him from his videos. I tried telling him their paths happened to cross at a corner that was known for drug activity, but he wouldn't hear it.

At the corner, instead of turning toward our street to go home--he lived a few doors from us in a rental house--I turned away. An anger I didn't know flared up. He demanded to be let out and opened the door while we were moving. The rain was hard and heavy, a dark rain. He did not want to know that I was only going one block out of the way. To calm him I told him I would take him home directly. F---it, if he wanted to act like a rock star, I'd indulge his fame, don my chauffeur's hat, take his assholiness home, and then do my errand.

If he'd not died, the incident would have meant nothing.

I see my happening onto him right after the cop as proof--if he was seeking proof--that he could not take a walk and be alone. He had owned Manhattan and walked away for a place he could be alone.

He leapt out of my car and was immediatelly soaked. "I'll walk," he said. "It's nice out." It was not nice out. Is that what he had to say to be alone?

Jeff rang our doorbell at six sharp. "Look at this," he told my wife, leading Mr. Clean into the kitchen. He wore a frilly green three-piece thrift-store suit, two-tone black and white shoes, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted forward over his face. I assumed a matching green Cadillac with a fake fur steering wheel was parked out front. He said, "I like to dress for dinner."

He and I drank red wine outside in the pre-summer heat. My four-month-old daughter cooed at him, he cooed back, and they laughed. After dinner he wanted to retrieve a notebook he'd left at the downtown club where he had a weekly gig. "Sure they're open," he said, "live bands seven nights a week." We walked to his house, where he got the keys to his rental car. Before leaving the house, he put on a Dead Kennedys CD and left it at top volume. One the street I could hear every thudding syllable. An Avon lady lived next door to him. I didn't ask questions.

He drove like his verbal riffs: all over the place. The club was, of course, closed. But his outfit was glowing, we were half-lit, and we hit a Beale Street beer hall that had a pool table. He put down two quarters in line for a game and steadily pumped the jukebox.

In Memphis Jeff could play at anonymity: a dangerous, green-suited pool hustler running Beale. The bartender found his Grifters selection too noisy and pulled the plug. Jeff leapt onto the pool table and demanded not only that the machine be turned back on, but that he be given his money back so he could play the song again. A pretty girl recognized him and between pool shots she handed him a menu and asked him for an autograph. He was polite; I think the occasional recognition was enough to sate his ego, but not so much that it interfered with his daily affairs.

My wife and I fed him a couple of times, hung out a bit. Usually his blinds were drawn, and we mostly left him to his work. One evening I stopped by on my way to the neighborhood bar. He talked about his dad that night, also a singer with a clarion voice. Tim Buckley was twenty-eight when he found a packet of powder and, mistaking the heroine for cocaine, laid out a fat line, inhaled, and died. Jeff was eight at the time. He lived with his mother, her husband, and his half brothers, and back then his name was Scott J. Moorhead. Then he'd entered his old man's business, and though he didn't know him (he'd only spent a week with his dad), he was feeling the weight of his father's shadow. Dead at such an early age, Tim Buckley would be forever young. "The only way I can rebel against him," Jeff told me, "is to live."

You don't go swimming in your boots without some kind of intent somewhere. Jeff was thirty when he drowned in the Mississippi River. I don't imagine that his father's specter ever left him, but I do believe life must have refracted through the ghost differently during Jeff's last couple of years. My wife's father died accidentally when she was a child, and she speaks of the mixed feelings she had when she passed her father's age. Survivors' guilt tinged with survivors' triumph: "It didn't happen to me" becomes "it couldn't."

People like me who write about musicians have a relationship with celebrity that is either symbiotic or parasitic, depending on the perspective. Jeff and I had met accidentally, laughed a lot at that first meeting but were never introduced, and I left thinking he was just some new guy in town. It took an effort by me to supress the opportunism presented by his fame and maintain that purity in our friendship. We never discussed doing an interview, though I took notes for one. He had recorded an Alex Chilton song on his first EP; Chilton plays a significant role in my first book, It Came From Memphis, but we never discussed that either. He'd never played his fame card before, and offering to drive him a mile home that day it rained, when I was a block from doing that anyway, made me painfully aware of the shared natures of fan and servant.

Fame is a buoy that raises you up and a weight that brings you down. Jeff Buckley was beautiful to behold, a blast to be around, a singular talent. He seemed strong enough for fame. His core bubbled with energy, an excitement that sometimes overpowered him. Talking about his dad in the bar, he bent to his drink and gnawed on the glass with his teeth. Though he could wrangle his power, like when he made music, he seemed most at ease letting it pour fourth: A rush of comic routines. Impulsive actions. His wardrobe. Swimming in the river.

The day after the rain, I saw a furniture rental truck unloading beds at his house; Jeff's band was arriving. When a British magazine editor called the next morning asking me to confirm that Jeff had died of a drug overdose, I reamed the guy. "Let him work!" I said. "He wants to be alone." The editor assured me that this news was based in fact, that someone from Microsoft News had--but I cut him off and told him to leave the guy alone. Ten minutes later a friend at Jeff's label called to say that reports were that Jeff had drowned, and what did I know about it? Geez, I thought, can't anyone let this guy work?

My wife said if I'd been called about another of my neighbors having an accident, I'd have run to their door and knocked, made sure everything was okay. I did walk down to Jeff's house and stood in front of it dumbly--his house looked like his house--but I wasn't about to disturb him with rumors of himself. An hour later, back home, I glanced out front and an image of his bandmates--their stooped backs, the shade of the magnolia tree, red Converse high-tops on asphalt--seared into my brain. Death. I'd never seen them before, but their dyed hair and disheveled look announced them as Jeff's guests, and their dazed walk and stupefied manner instantly confirmed the worst. It rained for four days after that.

The first daylight hours passed as we waited for the phone to ring--for Jeff to tell us that the current had swept him away and deposited him, tired and delirious, in a foresaken corner of a cotton field, and he walked for hours between rows to dirt paths to gravel and was finally calling from a gas station near a stupid Tunica casino, could someone please come pick him up right away and bring dry clothes, he was miserable. But that call didn't come. His mother came, his girlfriend, an aunt, a lawyer, and some record company people.

When Jeff Buckley immersed himself in that inlet of the the Mississippi River, he swam out on his back, looking at the stars, singing a Led Zeppelin song. A tugboat passed and left a wake. He swallowed water. The shadow was heavy. The refraction was blinding. His boots were full.

It's said about the blues singer Robert Johnson that he lived a compartmentalized life. That to some he was Robert Dusty, to others Robert Spencer, and that his personae were as varied and as independent as the people to whom each was known. Jeff had a life in New York I knew little about, and his family was in California. But his absence broke down those partitions, and we survivors clung to each other in his house, surrounded by his belongings, waiting for him.

The undercurrents in Memphis swelled in Jeff's absence. This city reveres obscurity, is hostile toward success. Beneath the reverence for the celebrated--here or anywhere--is a mean-spirited envy, a rooting for the lions over the gladiator. The tide of gossip rose: He staged his death for publicity. Or for solitude. He was on drugs. Suicide. Black magic.

On the fourth day, before his body floated up, his mother called his friends to his house for a wake. His beautiful photograph was propped on the table, along with a candle and maybe a flower. She wanted to celebrate her son's life and she made a toast, reminding me how little we can each know of even the ones we call friends. She raised her glass, and we raised ours. Her words startled me: "To Scotty."

His singing was magisterial, like a pipe organ, natural like the northern lights. Jeff's voice made me want to build shrines--though now I see Jeff Buckley was the shrine to his voice. His sudden end has seeped into my memories of his passion and vitality, and I can't seperate the purity of his tone from the tragedy of his fate.

My child is drifting off to sleep in my arms. She has learned to crawl, is beginning to understand spacial relations. The puzzle that is everything she sees is beginning to have pieces, and the pieces are beginning to fit. Her dreams have become more lifelike, and as she is momentarily disturbed into consciousness, her eyes open. She can't tell the worlds apart, and since the dream feels so much nicer than the coldness of reality, she doesn't fight the return. She drifts off.

Source: Robert Gordon

[theageoftheunderstatement]

kevinwestenberg: ARCTIC MONKEYS. MOJO MAGAZINE. Photo: ©Kevin Westenberg. September 2, 2022. Love how this individual portrait of Alex Turner worked out. Once the group shots were completed, I wanted to shoot individuals of each member while the lights were in place here on the roof of the Four Seasons Hotel in Lisbon, Portugal. Lighting supplied by Ricardo Nascimento at Carapau Rental Studios and photo assist by Gonçalo Santos. It’s also the third photo included in our 12 page MOJO feature for the new album out October 21, 2022. Keith Cameron handled the writing honours and Colleen Maloney from Domino is also there to steer the ship. This particular location worked perfectly for our lighting set. The roof has a running track around the edges for people to get exercise with a view! There’s also a ton of exercise machines just inside the glass. The glass itself has a heavy blue/green tint which photographs beautifully. In addition you can see the sea and views out over Lisbon in the distant background but I didn’t want that to be too much of a feature. The emphasis needed to be on the band members. In this case the cool part in addition to seeing the full view is that because it’s an Alex solo shot, you get the full view through the glass and also the best reflection of his doppelganger. We also had a great sky moment with the perfect set of little fluffy clouds in the reflection of the glass. My biggest fuck-up overall during the portrait section was not getting shots of them without sunglasses. Rookie error by someone with 40 years of experience. The odd thing of not working as much anymore is that I find myself returning to dwelling on the technical details and forgetting some small things simply due to lack of repetition. Might have to return to making a written shot list like in the old days to avoid this type of unforeseen problem. 

[blazehedgehog]

Thoughts on One Piece?

I've told this story, but since Tumblr search is so awful, I'll tell it again.

The short of it is: I really wanted to get into One Piece. When One Piece started, pirates weren't really a subject you saw a whole lot of in anime. I thought Oda's art style was fresh and cool, too.

I did not like dealing with fansubs. They were kind of difficult to acquire (relatively), and at the time, I had a router that would absolutely crap its pants if I left a torrent running (it would have a firmware crash and all internet traffic would die until you power cycled the device). So the Kaizoku stuff was right out for me from the start.

I forget which came first, the 4Kids dub or Viz launching American Shonen Jump with their version One Piece. I think the 4Kids dub was first, because I remember being angry at Viz for adopting "Zolo" instead of "Zoro." Either way, I was angry about the 4Kids dub, but I was lucky enough to pick up the entire first 12 months of Shonen Jump, and figured that's where I'd start with One Piece.

Didn't have the money to keep buying new Jumps past that first year, so I figured I'd have to slum it with scanlations at least. I believe I left off in the back half of Baratie, and the only scanlations I could find from that part of the manga were like, truly awful quality. I have described them as "third generation Yahoo Groups quality scans." They were dark, blurry, heavily compressed, and the dialog was barely a step above an automated machine translation. I almost wish I could find them again, because it was nasty.

Around this time I think Funimation announced they wrestled the rights to One Piece away from the decaying hands of 4Kids, so I was happy to wait for that. We subscribed to Netflix in those days, the original DVD-by-mail service, so I'd rent each new set as they came out. Got all the way up through Baratie, up through Arlong Park, up to where they visit and prepare to leave Loguetown.

I think by the time the DVDs hit the fifth set, I ran into a problem: physical rental locations like Blockbuster had hard rental deadlines. You had to bring the disc (or tape) back in a day or two. Netflix, famously, had no rental deadlines. Keep things as long as you like.

While I had no trouble getting 1-4, some clown got set 5 before I could, and sat on it. For over a year. I complained to Netflix, and Netflix just shrugged at me.

Within a year or two of that, Funimation officially launched a One Piece website, like my memory is saying it was onepiece.com or something (which it isn't, that's a clothing store), but the point was they were announcing they were going to simulcast subs of the anime, for free, on this site. They were also adding dub episodes to this site, again, to stream for free. Back then, this was pretty unprecedented. Hulu was only a few years old at this point.

I figured: wow! Now's my chance! Go to check the website and...

The free episodes ended at the exact same point I left off at with the Netflix DVDs. Episode 53. It went from Dub Episode 53 straight to Sub Episode 230, which is where the simulcast began. Looking at Funimation's current site, this is what they consider "Season 1."

So I earmarked it. "Maybe I can finish it some day."

Some day never came. One Piece is over 1000 chapters (100 volumes) and 1000 episodes. There is over 430 hours of One Piece available to watch. The manga is so big people have talked about it taking up an entire shelving unit. I even saw photos once of somebody who had their shelf break because their One Piece collection was so heavy.

It took me over a year to read 16 volumes of the original Dragon Ball. There are almost ten times as many volumes of One Piece.

I have given up. I will never read it. Never watch it. Never see it. It's great that it's this amazing thing, truly this long journey, but even at 500 chapters it would have been too much.

Even if I wanted to, it's grown to be such a thing that when something happens in the anime or the manga, there are instantly spoilers for it all over the entire internet. 107 volumes of that is pretty disheartening.

I know about One Pace. One Pace is still too long. Some of those videos are over 20 hours. For a single video. And One Pace still has gaps in their coverage anyway.

It's just not happening.

[diseasedeity]

Professional Junk Removal Can Speed Your Next Land Cleanout Interaction

A significant cleanout can unpleasant and exhaust. Whether you're anticipating a forthcoming crosscountry move into a smaller house, cleaning out an older relative's home before an estate deal or dispossession, or gut-revamping your office and introducing every new installation, all of the junk you toss needs to head off to some place. You can split the garbage and junk into small loads and drive this way and that to the dump and the recycling place, wasting valuable time, fuel, and energy. Or on the other hand you can save yourself the problem by hiring a professional junk hauling group to do the heavy lifting and disposal for you. What precisely does a junk hauler do? It relies upon the specific company, so consider your needs and your budget before pursuing a hiring choice.

Heavy Lifting

Some junk haul companies offer genuine removal of items from your structure among their services. Have a bunch of old machines in the loft that don't work any longer? Need to dispose of old decorations in the space you're leaving before the movers show up to get together what you're keeping? Junk haulers can complete those oversized items of your home or work environment and store them in a truck or dumpster for later disposal. A significant benefit of hiring a junk removal group that offers lifting is that you're staying away from the gamble of injury that accompanies Do-It-Yourself removal of heavy articles - you could pull a muscle or drop that clothes washer on your foot, but a professional will actually want to take all fundamental wellbeing precautions. Junk hauling geniuses likewise use shields to guarantee that no floors, walls, or apparatuses are damaged during junk removal, so your cleanup cycle will not need to incorporate wall fixing and paint touch-ups.

Roll-Off Dumpster Rental

Some junk removal companies offer dumpster rental as an option in contrast to a truck and a group of lifters. In this case, the company will drop off a vacant dumpster for a specified rental period. You'll be responsible for filling the dumpster yourself, and the junk removal company will get back to get the holder and its items when you're through. Dumpster rental might be a less expensive choice for junk and garbage removal, because you're not likewise paying for work, but you need to consider your capacity to move the junk all alone before picking this route.

Disposal

Do you know local codes and regulations for disposing of all of the junk cleaned out of your home or business space? If you don't, and you leave your cooler or broken television at some unacceptable spot, you could get fined. Junk hauling specialists are prepared in junk disposal. Whether they assist you with loading the truck or basically get the dumpster you rented, they'll realize the proper last resting place for every item. In some cases, that can mean a gift place or a recycling facility- - your garbage may be someone else's treasure! But that is not by any means the only advantage of working with junk haulers. You'll likewise save constantly it would take you to drive items to the landfill or recycling focus yourself. All things being equal, you'll have the option to inhale a moan of help when the truck or dumpster pulls away, it is finished to know that your work.

[southfloridaequipmentrentals]

Determining the Best Lift for Your Project Needs: A Guide by South Florida Equipment Rentals

When tackling outdoor projects, whether it’s construction, maintenance, or installation work, having the right equipment is paramount to both the efficiency and safety of the operation. At South Florida Equipment Rentals, we understand the challenges you might face in selecting the perfect lift for your specific project needs. Serving as a leading equipment rental agency in West Palm Beach, we offer a comprehensive range of options, including boom lifts, fork lifts, telescopic lifts, and scissor lifts. But how do you determine which lift is best suited for your project? Let's dive into the considerations that will guide your decision.

Understanding Your Project Requirements

The first step in selecting the right lift from our equipment rental agency in West Palm Beach involves a thorough assessment of your project's specific requirements. Consider the following factors:

Height and Reach: Determine how high you need to reach and whether you'll be extending over obstacles.

Weight Capacity: Estimate the weight of materials or personnel the lift will need to support.

Terrain: Evaluate the terrain of your project site. Is it rough, uneven, or indoor?

Space Constraints: Consider the workspace available, including any narrow passages or low overhead clearances.

Choosing the Right Lift

With an understanding of your project's needs, let’s explore our heavy equipment rentals in West Palm Beach and how they match different project requirements.

Boom Lift Rentals in West Palm Beach

Boom lifts are ideal for projects requiring high reach with the ability to navigate over obstacles. These lifts provide excellent versatility in movement, with articulating arms that can extend to various angles. Choosing us for your boom lift rental in West Palm Beach when you need to reach difficult places, such as high exterior walls or trees.

Fork Lifts

Fork lifts are the go-to choice for moving heavy materials around a site. They are perfect for projects that involve a lot of lifting and transporting of heavy items. Choose a fork lift when your primary need is material handling within a relatively compact area.

Telescopic Lifts

For projects requiring a combination of height and stability, telescopic lifts offer an excellent solution. These lifts have a straight, extendable arm that provides a stable platform for tasks at significant heights. They are especially useful in construction and industrial settings where reach and height are critical.

Scissor Lifts

Scissor lifts are suited for projects that need elevation but within a limited range. They offer a stable platform for workers and equipment, making them ideal for indoor projects or outdoor work on stable, flat surfaces. Choose a scissor lift for tasks like ceiling work, signage installation, or any project where vertical lift within a confined space is required.

Making the Right Choice

At South Florida Equipment Rentals, we pride ourselves on offering top-quality equipment rental services near you. Our team of experts is ready to assist you in selecting the perfect lift for your project. By understanding your project's unique needs and matching those with the capabilities of our extensive equipment fleet, we ensure that you get the best possible solution for your requirements.

Conclusion

Selecting the right lift for your project doesn't have to be a daunting task. With a clear understanding of your project needs and the expertise of South Florida Equipment Rentals, you can easily find the ideal equipment for your next project. Contact us today to discuss your project needs and explore our wide range of equipment rental options in West Palm Beach. Together, we'll lift your project to new heights!