#my music is lookin like my dads record collection

[scarepackage]

I would also love you forever if you share your music recs with little ol me

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23 | AO3 link

“Wait, really?” Marinette’s mouth droops. “But he promised you could come to the concert!”

“I know he did,” Adrien’s voice says rather bitterly through the phone. “Apparently, I’m not good enough for him.”

“That’s rubbish!” If Marinette’s hands weren’t occupied with her phone and a cardboard box, she’d either be crossing her arms firmly or tugging on the hair that she’s left loose around her face today. “You’re a better pianist than half the people our age put together!”

“To be fair, I’d probably be better if I’d stop playing recordings to pretend I’m practicing while I actually go see – uh, go and do other things.”

Marinette snorts. “You sure you can’t sneak out? Put your foot down? It just won’t be the same without you here.”

“I would if I could. I’m sure Gorilla would cover for me if I asked, but there’s no getting past Nathalie. And she wouldn’t cover for me this time. She saw how annoyed Father was at my performance. Even if I could sneak out through my window, he’d know where I went, so there’d be no point. I wouldn’t want him to ruin your concert.”

“I’m sorry, Adrien. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, well…I’d better go practice. Maybe if I’m up to his standards, he’ll let me come near the end. Better than nothing, right? And I was really looking forward to seeing Luka.”

“Luka? Who?”

“Juleka’s brother.”

Marinette blinks. “Juleka has a brother?”

“That was my reaction too,” Adrien says. “But he saved me and Kagami when we snuck out of fencing the other day and nearly got mobbed.”

“I’m not sure why they think chasing you down and demanding you marry them will make you want to do that,” Marinette snorts. “Anyway, good luck with your piano. I know you’ll smash it!”

“Don’t tempt me,” Adrien jokes. “Have fun, Marinette.”

“I will.”

The line goes dead a moment later. Marinette sighs and pockets her phone.

“Cap’n Anarka speakin’ to ya!” announces a rough woman’s voice. Marinette whirls around to see Juleka’s mother standing next to Rose with her hands on her hips, making Rose jump while adjusting the microphone stand with her sudden appearance. “So, how’s it comin’ along, me young pirates? Ready to celebrate the –”

Marinette gulps when Anarka’s blue eyes narrow at her. The older woman adjusts her red glasses before striding straight over to Marinette.

“Whatcha up to there, lady?” she says, snatching the box from Marinette. When Marinette explains that she’s cleaning the houseboat for the concert, Anarka laughs long and loud and then starts scattering the contents of the box everywhere on deck. “We never pick up in this house! Didn’t me daughter tell ya? We love the lived-in look! We have no rules on the Liberty! Out of chaos comes creation! Messiness is life!”

Huh. Maybe that’s why Marinette’s a hot artistic mess. With a smile, she heads with Alya and Nino into the steering room for a few minutes of quiet while Rose, Juleka, Mylène, and Ivan continue their loud preparations outside.

“Dude, don’t tell me Adrien’s dad put him on lockdown again,” Nino complains while Marinette rifles through a box on a shelf. She grimaces when a layer of dust billows out and coats her pink wrap-around top, white T-shirt, and blue jeans

“Afraid so,” she says, frowning as she pulls out a strange metal statue of a hand with its index and pinky fingers out. Nino groans.

“Bummer. I was lookin’ forward to hanging out with him for once.”

“We all were,” Alya says. “Man, and I thought my older sister was overprotective.” She takes the statue from Marinette, squints at it, then dumps it on the compass. “Wow, that’s creepy. I see where Juleka gets it from.”

“Juleka’s not creepy!” Marinette says. “She’s just…quietly punk.” When she reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, her bracelet gleams in the sunlight, and her eyes are irresistibly drawn to it as it brings back the vivid memory of Chat Noir and his confession to her on her birthday over two weeks ago. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’s got strong feelings for him, but she also hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’s not completely sure of their nature yet, although she’d be deceiving herself if she insisted that they were definitely not romantic.

And yet…she can’t get Chat Noir’s confession out of her head. The thought of him is enough to send tingles down her skin and butterflies through her stomach, but what if this is just a rebound thing? The only downside about romance built on friendship is that if the romance goes sour, what if the friendship does too? And she’ll be damned if she loses Chat Noir’s friendship, especially after all the nights they’ve spent together being utter dorks.

And none of this would have happened if not for André. She never would’ve had that conversation with Chat Noir when he came to comfort her. He never would’ve tried to start moving on from Ladybug and fallen for her instead. Heck, he probably wouldn’t even have been as cool as he was on her birthday.

What if…André’s ice cream hadn’t been referring to Adrien, but rather to Chat Noir? After all, Chat Noir’s lips are also peach pink – not that she’s been thinking about them, ha, not at all – and his hair and eyes are also gold and mint green. In that case, is André’s ice cream really magical? Had he really been predicting her soulmate?

“Oh, ho ho, sailors!” Anarka once again appears out of nowhere, this time to snatch the statue off the compass as Marinette and Alya jump and clutch their chests. “Never put a metal object next to a compass! Ya hear, lass? Metal attracts the needle just like a magnet, which is why ya can’t get ‘em anywhere near each other.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a deep literary metaphor in there somewhere,” Alya says sarcastically. Marinette and Nino conceal their laughter behind their hands.

“We’re ready, captain!” Rose salutes from the foot of the stairs, Juleka just behind her. Marinette can’t help but smile at what a cute couple they make. “Uh…but Luka’s missing!”

Anarka squints at Marinette. “Marinette, right? Since you’re free from yer cleanin’ duties, could ya go and tell Luka that we’re waitin’ for him to start rehearsals?”

“Of course!” Marinette says, then frowns. “But, uh…where is he?”

“In his cabin, of course!”

It’s a treacherous journey through the living room of the houseboat, what with the various musical items and other items scattered all over the floor. But there’s something comforting and warm about the mess; something that invites you to come in and revel in it. Marinette shrieks and jumps when she slips through a doorway and comes face-to-face with a boy sitting cross-legged on a bed, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his knees. Between his thumbs and index fingers are two black guitar picks, which make a lot more sense when Marinette catches sight of the black guitar next to him.

She jumps again when she realises that he’s opened his eyes and is staring straight at her with a smile. His eyes are the same shade of blue as his mother’s, also matching the teal tips of his black hair, and he’s wearing ripped black jeans and a short-sleeved blue jacket over a white Jagged Stone shirt.

Holy crap. He’s gorgeous.

“Hey!” Marinette blurts out. “My name’s Mama – Ma-Ma-Marinette!” Oh god, she’s stammering again. Why is this her life? She takes a deep breath to compose herself and pushes on. “Your mum sent me down here. The groove – ah, the group’s waiting for you.”

“Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” the boy – Luka – says in a cool voice, then snickers behind his hand. Marinette’s heart drops. Great. He’s gorgeous, but he’s also a jerk. This is really Juleka’s brother? Her feelings must be painted across her face, because Luka’s smile vanishes, and he adds, “Sorry. I tend to make more sense with this.”

He pats the bed next to him. Marinette accepts the invitation, while he slings his guitar around his neck and then strums a few chords.

“That’s strange.” Luka frowns at her. “It seems you have something like this in your heart.” He plays a short tune, rising and falling in pitch, somehow exactly matching the utter chaos that’s currently got Marinette’s heart in a vice grip. She closes her eyes and rests a hand on her heart, losing herself in the sweet melody, and it takes a moment for her brain to register that Luka’s stopped playing.

“How do you do that?” she says in awe. Luka smiles at her when she opens her eyes.

“Music is often simpler than words,” is all he says. Marinette hums and jumps up to get a closer look at the pick collection underneath his Jagged Stone poster. Her eyes are drawn to a pick with Jagged Stone’s face, which she grabs so that she can get a closer look.

“You like Jagged Stone?” she says.

“He’s my favourite singer.” Luka slides off the bed to stand next to her.

“Mine too!”

Luka’s smile widens, and he looks at the pick in her hand. “You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”

“Thanks!”

“I think I’d better go and join the… “groove” you said,” Luka says, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Marinette whines and facepalms.

“Did I really –? Oh no! At least Adrien wasn’t here to see that. He’d never let me live it down, the dork.”

“Adrien?” Luka tilts his head. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s one of my best friends. You’re the guy who saved him from being mobbed, right?”

Luka nods. “He wasn’t ready for a child just yet.”

“Uh…what?”

“An inside joke. One of his fans was screaming for him to have her babies.”

Marinette shudders. “Ick. I can’t believe I used to be like that.”

“That’s not the impression I get.” Luka plays a few oxymoronic notes, somehow both chaotic and gentle. “You have a passionate heart. You just struggle with your chaotic brain. You’re not the kind of person to behave like that.”

“Seriously, how do you do that?” Marinette complains as blood rushes to pool in her cheeks and stomach.

“Just like I told Adrien, I can hear people’s heart songs,” Luka says. Whoa. Seriously? That’s…how is that possible? “And just like I told Adrien, I talk to Juleka. You’re a funny girl, Marinette.”

With that, Luka heads out of the room, leaving Marinette scrambling to catch up so that she’s not left all alone with her whirling thoughts because nope, nope, this is not happening. Although what happens only minutes later is enough to push all thoughts of Luka from her mind, when Anarka is reprimanded by Roger Raincomprix for pretty much blowing the sound barrier with Kitty Section and their instruments. Apparently, Hawkmoth doesn’t take a day off, because Marinette can’t even enjoy a music festival with her friends without him being a bastard and akumatising someone. Before anyone can so much as blink, Anarka has became the pirate Captain Hardrock, with a sentient ship totally under her control that chains up Marinette and her friends when they try to reason with Captain Hardrock and point out that maybe Roger had a point about the volume.

“Ow!” Rose cries when her head knocks against the wood. Groaning, Marinette struggles to sit up, pushing back against Luka to as a counterweight; thankfully, he catches on and adds his force to the equation to help them sit up. Around them, the other bound pairs are doing the same.

“Well,” Alya says when they’ve all rolled to a stop in the ship’s hold. “That was fun. Now what?”

“I guess we wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Nino says. Marinette’s eyes dart down to her purse, not that that’ll do much good since she can’t very well transform in front of a bunch of people, especially someone she’s only just met. Luckily, Tikki’s skills extend beyond magical transformations, as she’s able to zip out of the purse and phase through the padlock securing the chains around Marinette and Luka.

“Wow!” Luka exclaims when their chains fall away. “How’d you do that?”

Marinette freezes and fumbles for an explanation. She dips her hand into her purse to make sure that Tikki’s back inside, and her fingers close around the pick that Luka had given her. Perfect! “Uh…with this!” she says, showing him the pick. Luka smiles as he climbs to his feet.

“You’re a real magician, Marinette,” he says, helping her up. Marinette scoffs.

“Oh, it was nothing! Just – you know –” Her face grows warm under Luka’s awestruck gaze.

“Ahem.” Alya clears her throat. “When you’re quite ready?”

But before Marinette and Luka can work on freeing the others, Captain Hardrock comes stomping down the stairs. With a hasty apology, Marinette and Luka sprint through the door behind them and secure it shut with Luka’s guitar, and while this isn’t enough to keep Captain Hardrock out, it buys them enough time to get the window open. Luka immediately pushes Marinette towards the bed and points at the slim but long drawer built into the base. Catching on, she races over and shuts herself inside, and not a moment too soon.

“Run, Marinette! Quick!” Luka calls when the door smashes open. Marinette’s heart leaps into her throat at Luka’s pained cry when Captain Hardrock’s chains capture him again, but his sacrifice works; Captain Hardrock storms out of the room a moment later, clearly under the impression that Marinette had escaped through the window, dragging Luka with her judging by the scraping sound that accompanies her.

“Phew! That was close!” Tikki says when Marinette pushes the drawer back open and clambers out.

“I have to save my friends!” Marinette clenches her fists. “Tikki, spots on!”

Chat Noir’s already arrived when Ladybug finally manages to sneak up to the deck. Although the battle against Captain Hardrock and the Liberty is fairly straightforward as far as akuma fights go, it’s made far more difficult by the fact that Ladybug’s got a constant chanting of don’t flirt with the cat in her head to keep her on track because if Ladybug is one thing, it’s not a hypocrite. She can’t exactly flirt with Chat Noir after lecturing him about inappropriate timing in the wake of Green Giant, especially since he doesn’t even know that it’s her civilian form that he’s caught feelings for and vice versa.

With the help of the metal clasp of her Lucky Charm chain and Chat Noir, they chain Captain Hardrock to the ship’s compass and, just like when Alya had put the statue on top of it, the compass goes haywire around the clasp. This time, though, the entire ship is affected by the compass going out of control, and they manage to steer the ship up one of the slopes on the bank of the Seine and crash-land on a patch of grass. With the ship out of commission and the prisoners in the hull no longer in danger, it’s a simple matter for Chat Noir to Cataclysm the compass and disintegrate the ship, freeing the akuma for Ladybug to purify.

Pity, though, that Chat Noir has to book it as soon as Captain Hardrock turns back into Anarka. Ladybug wouldn’t have minded a bit of post-battle banter with him, along with asking what was up with him earlier. But really, it’s probably for the best for her headspace, considering that she’s only ninety-nine percent sure that she wants to be with him and it’s that one percent that’s shrieking inside her skull that she’s going to mess everything up.

“You okay, girl?” Alya says when Ladybug’s detransformed and re-joined everyone as Marinette.

“Uh huh,” Marinette mumbles. Alya raises an eyebrow but she thankfully doesn’t push the issue.

An hour or so later, while Kitty Section is still rehearsing for the music festival, they’re pleasantly surprised by a familiar face boarding the houseboat, waving and beaming at everyone.

“Adrien! Hi!” Marinette bounces on the spot and waves. Adrien’s face lights up and he waves back, then immediately trips and sends a long, thin black case flying, and Marinette can’t help the flutters inside her and the giggle that escapes her at what a dork he is.

“Adrien!” Nino runs over to help Adrien sit up. “You okay, bro?”

“Nah, it’s all good, I –” Adrien pauses rubbing his head to open the case he’d knocked over, revealing a keyboard inside. “Whoa, an original ZX20.4? I love the sound of this instrument!”

“Aww, that old thing?” Anarka scoffs. “No one knows how to play it.”

“I know how to play it,” Adrien says.

“Great.” Luka holds out a hand to help Adrien to his feet. “Welcome to the band, Adrien.”

Adrien beams. “Really? Thanks, Luka!”

Luka and Adrien still haven’t let go of the other’s hand. An odd look passes between them, making Marinette squint, until Adrien catches sight of her and quickly lets go of Luka’s hand.

“Looks like I could make it after all!” Adrien says to her. Marinette grins and gives him a thumbs-up.

“Your dad caved in?” she says. Adrien shrugs.

“Yeah. I think I impressed him enough.”

“Can’t wait to see how you impress us, then,” Luka says. Adrien jumps, his cheeks pinkening, and Marinette raises her eyebrows and bites her lip when Luka smiles and winks at him as well as her.

Well. One thing’s for sure: the future’s going to be very, very interesting.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 21

The salty starch of a curly french fry is dipped into a small cup of delicious ketchup; the spicy delight soon chomped in half by Kingsley’s teeth. “Mmmh...” After swallowing the piece, he goes on to compliment the flavorsome fries with: “This restaurant always makes some of the best fries. The salt and spices in each piece just burst flavor. You really outta try them Damian.” From the opposing side of the table does a tan brown hand pinch one of the longer curly fries before him; lifting it near the head of a hooded teenage boy with curly black hair drooping out from underneath. Before him, the boy watches as the long strand of potato simply droop down until it rips under its own weight; a depressing sigh escaping from his mouth as he turns away. “Hey, what’s the matter? Afraid you might burn your tongue? They’re not that hot.” Kingsley question. “I’m just not that hungry is all.” Damian moans.

Right after saying such, a small toddler smacks into his chair;  Damian disappearing upon the sudden bump. The toddler looks back, staring curiously towards the seat he’d just ran into; Kingsley watching as the little kid slowly starts to approach. Right when he was near, both hear the cry of a woman; demanding the toddler to: “Get over here, Jimmy! Quit bothering them!” On those orders does the little kid retreat from the table; the boy genius looking back towards the seemingly empty seat. “You wanna talk about what’s been eating you up? You been acting more withdrawn then usual this past week or two.” Before Kingsley does the boy reappear back in his seat as a disheartened groan leaves his lungs; answering him with: “I don’t know. I...I just haven’t been the same since that whole Circe episode. Going through that whole kidnapping and life threatening drama’s just been a little hard for me.” “I ain’t really seeing anything wrong with ya.”

Beside the two, Cayenne sat woofing down the burgers and fries before her like a savage animal; bits of fries and meat spilling back onto the table as she scarfs her food down. “Ya still lookin like the same overly dramatic try hard emo pansy you’ve always been.” she mentions, her mouth stuffed with overly greasy burger pieces. “I don’t think that’s the case. I haven’t heard him speak a single poetic line the whole time he’s been around.” Kingsley denies. “I still ain’t getting what’s eating your ass. Ya got outta that circus of horrors and lesbian magic without losing a single speck of your powers. So what the big deal?” “Cayenne! He’s probably still scared about being kidnapped and nearly getting killed. I’d know I’d be.” “You did, and so did most of my cousins too. Most of the kids that went through that shit storm turned out just fine in the end.” Hearing the spice queen recall such causes Damian to let out a disheartening moan; the boy hanging his head over the batch of spicy fries. “Uh, Cayenne. Maybe it’d be best if you sit this one out.” the boy genius suggests. “Whatev.” Rising from her seat, she takes whatever food was left in front of her before taking her leave; bidding her adieu with: “Still thinking he should just get over it.”

Watching the Spice queen depart, a defeated groan leaves Damian’s lips; hesitantly agreeing with her crass judgment with: “Saying it hurts, but…she right. A lot of the kids that witch had snatched up bounced back from it all without so much as a hiccup. Like the mighty grizzly, the chilling winter of her icy grip had lulled them into a long slumber. But the comforting spring of your warming rescue had awoken them once more; springing back from the brink with more vigor than before. Alas, the cruel winter shows little mercy for me. Like the graceful gazelle, unfit slumbering through the harsh bitter ice; growing ever more frightened and frail than ever.” “Quit thinking like that. You’re not as weak as you make yourself out to be. Everyone just goes through trauma differently, that’s all. That doesn’t make yours any less valid.” The boy genius’s encouraging statement unfortunately fails to perk Damian’s spirits, remaining ever drowning in his woes.

Kingsley slapping the table baits the ghost boy’s attention; Damian hearing him offer: “Tell ya what, how about you and I go out on day through Townsville together. It’s been a while since we done something with just the two of us. We can go wherever your ghostly heart desires. Whadya say?” “I-I don’t know Kingsley. The only thing I’m really wanting to do now is just go home and cry my eyes out.” “Did I mention that the underground cafe downtown is having a poetry evening?” “...Alright, you win.” Rising from his seat, Kingsley rejoices from the agreement by concluding: “Fantastic! Just need to pay the bill and we can hit the road.” Picking up the bill, the boy genius’s chipper demeanor is swiftly cut upon viewing the cost; finding several meals that he knows neither of them had ordered. Over a hundred bucks worth of burgers, fries, sides; Jesus! Only one person was with them that could stuff themselves that much. “Ugh, Cayenne.”

Through the streets of Townsville, the duo walk together among the countless urbanites going about their day; the boy genius asking Damien: “So, you still listen to stuff like Hip Hop and Rap?” “Nn, yeah. I’ve also been branching out more towards the tranquil melancholy that Lofi has to offer.” “Glad to hear your music tastes are still intact. I’ve been seeking out stuff through techno and synth wave myself. Guess our first stop on this cheer up trip’ll be something that both of us will be into.” “Where exactly are you taking us?”

Stepping through a shop door, the specter’s question is answered then and there; beholding a vast cavalcade of music in a slew of forms. Cassettes, records, CD’s, all hailing a multitude of countless genres for all to enjoy. “A music shop? Why is our first stop here of all places.” Damian wonders as both he and his host enter. “I figured since both of us are exploring new genres, I figure we’d stop here to look through some of the new and retro stuff they’ve got stocked.” “Can’t we just do that online?” “Well, yeah. But I find there’s this oddly comforting novelty of having physical media as opposed to just pure data. Just nice to have something displayed on the shelf I guess.” Grabbing hold of the specter’s shoulder, Kingsley guides his guest towards the collection of music as he urges him to: “Come on. I bet we’ll find a ton of amazing stuff sitting in these racks.”

Along the racks of tracks, the duo search the surprisingly vast collection of synthwave music; one of which was a CD labeled “Mitch Murder”. “Think that this might be good, Kingsley?” “Mitch Murder? Oh yeah. My dad used to listen to him a lot while he’d be making gadgets and bots. I remember when I was little, I’d here the soothing synth echoing through is lab and just lull me to sleep. Really relaxing stuff there. Thinking about taking it home?” “Me? Hmm, maybe. It be rather a curious to listen to what music others might enjoy and find out what got them hooked to it.” “Really?” “Venturing out in such unexplored territory can offer a window into the souls of others. Even if it’s completely subjective, you can tell a lot about a person from the sounds that best resonate with them.” “Sounds like you know more about this stuff then I do.” “The souls of others are a very curious endeavor to explore, Kingsley. Every single life in existence is a completely unique being.”

Their search through the shop send them leaning towards the newest lofi hits; Damien trailing his finger across the cases until coming to a particular album. Pulling out the track makes the ghost boy lets out a small sigh, followed by mentioning: “The first Lofi artist I’ve discovered, a hidden diamond sparkling out in the rough that would spark a love for the secluding melody that such a genre offers.” Popping the CD out form its case, Damian flips it into the drive of a nearby music player; grabbing hold of both the headphones attached. “Care to drift along in the sea of melancholy with me, my friend?” the specter asks; offering the extra set of headphones to Kingsley. “Uh...Sure.” Grabbing hold of the pair of headphone, the boy genius dons them right over his ears; first notes and beats he listens to sound...depressing, like really depressing. Slow beats, low droning reverb, soothing piano and guitar; really sounds like something you’d listen to when wondering of the pointlessness of life and contemplating the futility of our own existence, wondering if anything that we strive to achieve will simply just waste away in the march of time until it corrodes into something far less than memory… Depressing stuff, honestly. Not really the kind of music anyone going through those thoughts should be listening to. Best to switch to a much more joyously relaxing experience.

While Kingsley moves over and flips through the countless other lofi tracks, Damian takes in the idyllic desolation playing in his ears. The depressing strums the guitar mixing with the low key strikes of the piano truly a create a comforting misery that eases the pain; as if the musician sympathizes with the woes of trauma and depression.

Such a symphony of gloom is swiftly silenced; the specter opening his eyes as he snaps back to reality. His gaze shifts over towards the player; a new CD being inserted into the slot. Looking to who changed the track, he found Kingsley holding onto the music he was listening to with a caring smile; a new piece swiftly playing for them. This time, a more upbeat,  relaxing melody fills Damian ears. A piano, playing higher, more uplifting strikes sings alongside a similarly slow beat much like the previous melody. A complete contrast of the last lofi track, this one envelopes more of a chilling beat, a far more comforting rhythm. Like a friend saying: “Let’s just kick back, relax, and listen to some sweet, sweet sound.” A relaxing breath leaves the specter as a faint smile cracks between his cheeks.

After that change of tune, their journey through the genres continues unabated; both Kingsley and Damian scanning through the seeming endless walls and racks of music track. It’s in this moment that an all too familiar tune reaches the boy genius’s ears; gazing up towards the intercom to find it playing: “You used to call me on my...” Is that… “You used to, you used to” Is that really… “Yeah...You used to call me on my cellphone.” Oh my god, it’s playing Hotline Bling. It’s one of Damian’s favorites. Does he even knows its on? “Late night when you needed my love.”

Turning back to the ghost boy, he found not a single inch of his body dancing to the rhythm of the bass. “Call me on my cellphone.” Guess Damian hasn’t caught on yet. Probably too preoccupied with his woes to even notice. Perhaps a little push in the right direction might break him out of his shell. “Late night when you needed my love.”

Vaulting right over the racks between him and the specter, Kingsley slowly encroaches over to Damian’s side. “And I know when that hotline bling.” The boy genius’s head next to Damian’s, Kingsley starts to serenade along side the songs hot bassline; following the rhythm as the intercom continues with: “That can only mean one thing. I know when that Hotline Bling. That can only mean one thing.” Though not strong at first, Kingsley starts to see the specter’s body moving with the music; Damian foot stomping to the rhythm. “Ever since I left the city, you...Got a reputation for yourself now.” The further he hears Kingsley repeat the songs lyrics, the more Damian starts to break from his shy and apathetic standstill, beating his hands in tune to the bass. “Everybody knows and I feel left out. Girl, you got me down, you got me stressed out.” In the midst of harmonizing with the song, Kingsley begins to hear a low hum from the side; turning to the ghost boy to find him humming to the words. “Cause Ever since I left the city, you...” In tandem with his humming, the ghost boy starts to bop his head to the beat; slapping the racks with more vigorously. “Started wearing less and goin’ out more.” Damian’s whole body begins to move with the rhythm; Kingsley backing away from the dancing boy with a smile. “Glasses of champagne out on the dance floor.” The specter backs away from the rack of music tracks; his hood lowering to uplift his curly black hair. “Hangin’ with some girls I’ve never seen before.”

Finally, Damian turns away from the rack, dancing in full as he joins the boy genius on his chorus; singing out: “You used to call me on my cellphone.” Kingsley soon joins the phantom in his rhythmic bop; dancing side by side with Damian to the beat. “Late night when you need my love.” Both boy spin with one another, soon catching the attention of everybody in the music shop. “Call me on my cellphone.” Both boy then halt their twirl close to the carpet, slowly rising as they stay back to back to each other. “Late night when you need my love.” Once having fully risen, Damian jumps in the air and starts leisurely floating across the CD racks. “I know when that Hotline Bling.” All of the shops patrons watches the ghost boy glide through the store; the cashier even can’t help but gaze upon Damian as he moves to the rhythm of the music. “That can only mean one thing.” One of the shoppers joins in the phantoms serenade; her hips swaying with the beat. “I know when the Hotline bling.” Alongside her, the other shop patrons are gradually pulled into the rhythm; shaking their hips and bopping their heads to the music. “That can only mean one thing.” From the back of the store does a man with a shirt labeled “Manager” burst from the door; joining his patrons in their rapping chorus. “Ever since I left the city, you, you, you.” Gliding through the store; Damian twirls through the air as the other shop goers dancer. “You and be we just don’t get along.” Kingsley looks towards the ghost boy; happy to see a bright smile across his face as he sings with all his heart. “You make me feel like I did you wrong.” Damian lands back upon the carpeted floor with a dazzling flip; spreading his arms out in both directions. “Going places where you don’t belong.” The specter soon leaps back in the air; the people beneath him throwing CD cases in the air all at once. “Ever since I left the city, you-”

From the phantom’s carelessly joyous flight, Damian smacks himself into a whole wall full of tracks; the wall careening down upon another set of tracks beside it. That wall soon knocks over another wall of CD’s, spiraling an entire domino effect of collapsing sets of music tracks. The other patrons scatter away from the chaos, fleeing out the exit in panicking packs. Kingsley rolls away from the falling walls of music track, soon finding an entire rack threatening to topple upon him. Before the collection of songs could slam down upon the boy genius, somebody push him away from the descending rack; Kingsley finding himself thrust out from danger by his phantom friend. The boy genius can do little but witness the CD display tumble down upon his savor in a thunderous bang; soon seeing him buried under more dropping walls and racks.

The collapsing mayhem soon settles into a calming close; leaving the shops vast collection of music in ruin. Though the destroyed merchandise be the furthest worry from the boy geniuses mind; screaming out for his fallen friend. “Damian!” Kingsley lunges towards his buried friend without so much as a hint of hesitance; lifting up one of the falling rack as he assures him that: “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll getcha outta there soon! Just hang on!” Just as he ready to lift away the next piece of debris, the boy genius soon sees the translucent head of his friend; the ghost boy insisting that: “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Like an intangible spirit free from the physical plain of this world, Damian phases right through the toppled collection of tracks; turning corporeal once more as he lands back in front of the boy genius. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” A hearty sigh slips out from between Kingsley lips, the boy genius admitting: “Thank goodness. I really though you were done for a second there. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” “Trust me Kingsley, I’ve made out out of worse.” “I meant like...Are you feeling any better?” “Um...Kind of, but not a lot. Thanks for trying Kingsley.” “Hey, don’t quit just yet. This is just the first stop on the encouragement express; the next surprise in store might just fix your spirits yet.”

“You think so, huh?” a third voice questions. In that moment, a wayward fist breaches out from the rubble of the racks behind the boy genius; the emerging arm soon erupting out to show it belonging to the music shops managers. “You figure out how you’ll do the same with my store?” the manager growls. Presenting the resulting destruction to the two, he points towards the wrecked racks of broken CD’s and cracked case; reinforcing how: “The walls of records ruined, the racks of CD’s reduced to rubble, the tracks that I’ve stocked in shards. My entire music shop’s been completely destroyed! You got a way to fix all that!?” With a worrying groan, Kingsley pulls his wallet out from the depths of his pocket; slipping out from one of its folds his credit card.

Strolling through the concrete streets, the boy genius can’t help but notice Damian’s troubled glare; a gloomy moan leaving his lungs as the phantom stares out into space. “Hey, don’t look so down. I guarantee that the next stop were gonna visit will turn that frown upside down.” Kingsley promises. “You think so?” “I know so. It’s been someplace I’ve been wanting to take ya for quite awhile now. I guarantee your ghostly spirits will soar when you see it.” “Mind I ask where exactly are you planning to take us?”

Guided to his next stop, the ghost boy’s question is answered right then and there; Damian caught off guard by Kingsley surprise. Witnessing the astonishment in his eyes, a smile stretches across the boy genius’s face. “So, what do ya think? Your mood lightening up?” he asks. “I- I can’t believe it.” Standing before them be a brightly colored shop; the phantom beholding the assortment of exotic, almost otherworldly flowers displayed beyond the windows. “I’m guessing that’s a yes. Come on, I want to show ya the inside.” Taking the ghost boy’s hand, Kingsley gently leads Damian through the bright blue doorway; the wind chimes attached to the door ringing through their ears as they enter.

From within the shop, the duo beheld the quaint collection of blooming bunches surrounding them; a rainbow of flora encircling the pair. “All this is simply beautiful. The colors and fragrances all just blending harmoniously together in a symphony of natural beauty. How did you know?” the specter questions. “You kidding? With the whole array of flowers I see all over your house, it’s just a matter of putting two and two together. But all this, it simply pales in comparison to what they got set up in the back. Amazed me the first time I saw it all. It’s what got me thinking it bring you here.”

Stepping out the stores backdoor, both beholding a majestically expansive site spread before them; flora from every corner of the world and beyond gathered within a single enclosed garden, free from the influence of the outside world. The numerously vast collection of foliage leaves the phantom utterly speechless; left at awe of the overwhelming beauty of nature his eyes lay upon. Noticing the amazement in Damian's eyes, Kingsley lets out a little chuckle alongside mentioning: “Yep, that’s pretty much the same face I made when I first saw all this. Ain’t it neat?” “Neat? Neat simply isn’t enough to describe a site such as this. A wondrous union of flora from every corner of the world. The enchanting allure of such an earthly gathering simply draws forth the soul of nature within.” Having poetically described his feelings of wonderment and awe; Damian glides further into the wide collection of flowers before him.

The first set of flora to bait the ghost boys site be the seemingly dangerous cacti; planted upon patches of dry earth surrounded by brick. Drifting closer towards the green desert plants; Damian can’t help but let out an admiring sigh. “The mighty cactus, flourishing among the scorching desert sands. And yet, despite their unwelcoming appearance, they hide beauty among their prickly spines.” Glazing across the barbed patches, the specter soon finds a disturbance to the green; a bright pink flower, blooming right on the surface of a single cactus. “A single beauty; radiating among the harsh shells of the countless cacti.” Gliding his fingers across the flowers petals, Damian feels the gentle, almost silky texture of its petals. “Such a truly remarkable site bares with it a striking statement. How even the seemingly deadliest among us can show truly tender beauty.”

Breaking his site from the cacti underneath him; Damian is soon drawn towards another gorgeous site. “Ah! A deceptive contrast.” The ghost boy floats right over the prickly spines of the cacti and soon faces a glorious set of bell shaped flowers; a glass cage standing between him and the pure white flora. “The duplicitous brugmansia. The Angels trumpet. Truly a name none more deserving to represent the diabolical side of nature.” Phasing his arm through the glass, the specter delicately lifts one of the bells; continuing his description by adding: “Though their bell like bulbs may show themselves to be delectable and tempting, their petals hide an insidiously toxic poison. Even a single bite of this bell may very well send one on a terrifyingly painful trip towards the gates of heaven.” Taking his arm out from beyond the glass cage; Damian concludes is poetic statement with: “An example none more fitting for deceptive beauty. For what we may find as graceful and innocent may well be far more deadly and toxic than we perceive.”

Away from the lethal bells, the specter continues to drift through the glorious garden. Swiftly are his eyes taken towards a small bush sporting white flora all throughout its branches. “Quite the rare site. Never in my life would I imagine laying eyes upon the delicate hawthrons.” Nearing the bush of white, Damian gently brushes his palm along the white flora; adding how: “A flower seemingly so bland and uninteresting; blending in alongside the other beauties of nature. Alas, these tiny, fragile flowers hold within their stems an extremely potent healing property; the perfect ingredient to create powerful herbal medicine.” Pulling his hand away from the delicate flora, the phantom finishes his poetic dialect with: “A bold statement on how the small and blandest in our lives can have the biggest impacts.”

Out from the side; the ghost boy hears the call of his friend; Damian turning towards the source of his voice: “Hey Damian, come check this out.” Quickly, he glides towards the boy genius; gazing up to the majestic site right behind him. Witnessing the look of amazing upon his ghostly friend, Kingsley questions him with: “Ever seen something like this before.” “Only in myth.” Standing tall above them was the grand centerpiece of the entire exotic garden; a glamorous emerald tree enveloping a regal fountain. “An emerald evergreen. I’d never thought I would lay eyes upon such a wondrous site.”

The dazzled specter begins to ascend towards the top; the emeralds shine glimmering across his body as he rises. Near the trees crest, Damian plucks a piece of emerald hanging from one of the crystal branches; holding the piece of naturally grown jewelry towards the sun. Through the glass dome, the sun shine beams through the emerald; shining green upon the phantoms face. Dancing whimsically with the piece of rock in hand, Damian recites how: “This beautiful tree of shining jade truly brings the entire garden together; standing alongside the majestic flora to create a stunning symphony to represent the earth as a whole. A magical union of natures wonder.”

Finishing his dance, the ghost boy casually tosses the emerald leaf in his hand aside; soon descending back down towards Kingsley. The piece of rock ends up lodging itself into the sprinkler set at the top; the rock blocking the fountains water flow.

Landing right beside the boy genius, Damian lets loose a blissful sigh; Kingsley questioning if: “Guessing your spirits are soaring high now, aren’t they?” “As high as the stars themselves, Kingsley. My soul has soared beyond the atmosphere and has drifted through the planets themselves.” “Great to hear. You uh...You still hung up about you know who?” “As a matter of fact, I-” Right before the specter could give his say, both hear a violent shaking of metal and rock behind them. Turning back towards the tree, the duo witness the emerald evergreen swiftly start to furiously tremble; the loose bits of jade shaking off the crystal branches.

Right in front of them does a jet of water breach out from the hard emerald; Damian turning intangible before the gushing stream could hit him. The water jet phases right through the ghost boys body, soon striking the boy genius right behind him. “Kingsley!” Damian screams; watching as his host careens across the garden. Soon, the boy genius is smacked against the shops back wall; dropping down upon the grass with a thud. Witnessing Kingsley rise from the wayward flight, a relieved moan escapes from the phantoms lips. That same relief is swiftly withdrawn when he turns back towards the evergreen; geysers of fountain water breaking out from every side of the emerald tree; the sharp shards of which scatter all across the garden. As he gazes upon the disaster acting out before him, panicking cries reach Damian’s ear; glancing to his side to find the people fleeing from the ensuing chaos. One of these passerby’s lags behind the absconding crowd as he trip right onto the tiled walkway; looking above to witness a shower of sharp emerald pieces raining down towards him. The man braces for his inescapable demise; curling up as he awaits for the shards to impale his backside. But he feels not a single sting to his back, soon curling out from his brace to notice an emerald green glow shining right behind him; gazing back to discover the specter shielding him from the lethal shower with a translucence green plasma shield. “Get out of here!” he hears his savor demand. Not hesitating for a single second, the man scampers away from the ghost boy; Damian’s shield dissipating from the palm if his hand once the emerald rain ceases.

Back upon his feet, Kingsley beholds the escalating pandemonium ensuing before him; whole chunks of the evergreen now spraying out from around the fountain. Oh god. This is getting bad, really, really fast. They got have a water pressure control around her somewhere that can shut all this down. Hoping to find such, Kingsley swiftly scans through the garden for something that fails to blend in with the scenery; an element that clashes with the background as a whole. Out from the other side, his eyes soon lay upon a gray box nestled among a bed of gorgeous lilies. Jackpot!

The control box in his site, the boy genius sprints through the tiled walkway; passing through the retreating garden patrons. Kingsley glances up to witnesses his ghostly pal surveying through the sky; Damian’s attention soon baited by the boy genius when he calls. “Damian!” Gazing down to Kingsley below, the phantom listens as the boy genius orders that: “I’m going for the water control box! Get everyone outta here!” Hearing these demands, Damian descends down to the tiled pathway towards a couple of fleeing people. Hugging both by their wastes, the phantom sweeps the two out of the enclosed garden; phasing both him and the couple right through the glass dome.

Witnessing his phantom friend working on rescuing duty, Kingsley continues his race towards the control box up ahead. Out from the evergreen does another chunk of emerald come blasting out from the tree’s surface; the large jade rock careening towards the sprinting boy genius. Rolling along the tile, he slides right under the careening jewel as it passes right over him; the rocks rugged shards just inches away from his back. Once the emerald flies by, Kingsley leaps right back on his feet and continues towards the control box.

From there, the boy genius hurries towards the patch of lilies; green shadows sliding across the pathway baiting his attention up. Above, Kingsley witnesses several large shards descending right towards his path; refusing to halt for their landing. Continuing through, he sidesteps out from emeralds piercing crash down; witnessing the sizable shards digging straight through the tile. Finding another ready to crash before him, he jumps out from the jade jewelry’s landing; pieces of tile scattering upon impact. One more jagged jade digs right into tile pathway in front of him; Kingsley moving right by the broken piece of emerald.

Within the shop itself, two scruffy looking fellows calmly browse through the selection of flora along the shelves. One of them puts his nose up to a set of blue flowers and takes in the present aroma they emit. “I’m telling ya man. These hydrangeas will really make the place pop. Be a nice site among all those moldy hallways.” one of the suggests. “Hmm. Not to sure if blue really is the color we should go for.” the other doubts as they withdraw their nose from the flower. “Well, what kind are you thinkin about?” “I don’t know, man. Something like looks more natural. Maybe something green?” “Man, don’t fuckin joke about that. You remember the last disaster that happened when green came into our lives?” Before the other gent could answer, a crowd of fleeing patrons passes right behind them; the two turning their sites to the absconding shopper. “The hell’s got them so worked up?” one of them wonder. Glancing out through the window, the other answers with: “I think I might know what.” Both gazing out into the enclosed garden, the two scruffs stare out as they watch the specter and gifted scientist zoom through the scenery; their sites specifically locked towards the racing Kingsley. “Oh ho… ain’t that a familiar motherfucker.”

The boy genius lethal race through the garden seems to begin reaching its finish; Kingsley making out the piping hooked to the water control box among the lilies. Threatening to halt his progress however be another jet of water erupting from the tree. Though none of the shards tempt to fly in Kingsley’s direction, the speeding stream of water shoots right for him. Right on the mark, the geyser of fountain water strikes him aside; the technician sent flying through the garden. Kingsley’s forceful flight starts to take a turn for the worse, soon finding himself rocketing right towards the desert dwelling cacti. Kingsley closes his eyes, knowing there’s little he can do to to stop his careen towards the sandy pin traps but brace for the spiny impact.

Just before he could feel the sting of their sharp needles, he’s is snatched out of harms way. Failing to feel any of the cacti’s deadly pins pierce his skin; Kingsley opens his eyes and gazes up to find himself held in the air by his ghostly friend. “You okay?” Damian wonders. “I’m fine. Just fly me to the control box.”

At his friends request, the phantom teen glides across the garden to deliver his friend towards the lilies. Right when nearing the control box, Damian hears his passenger then order him to: “Now, drop me down!” “What!? But where nowhere near close to the ground! You’ll get hurt!” “There’s no time to land, Damian! Other peoples lives are at stake!” Although reluctant, the ghost boy heeds to his friends request and releases his grip on Kingsley’s arms; the super genius plummeting down towards the lily patch. While Kingsley’s descent proves trouble free, his landing shows to be anything but; breaking his ankle upon the solid concrete. The rough landing makes him tumble back; the gifted technician grabbing hold of his foot as he cries out; “Ah! My ankle!” “Kingsley!” his phantom friend concerns as he starts to descend. “Don’t worry about me! Just keep getting people out of here!” With that order, the ghostly teen flies away; leaving Kingsley to limp towards the control box.

Zooming back into the fray, Damian witness a huge chunk of the evergreen burst from the tree; the emeralds trajectory sent straight towards a fleeing elderly couple. With all his might, the specter jets straight towards the couple; coming neck and neck with the careening piece of crystal. Outracing the chunk of jade by only several inches, he reaches his arms out towards the two; grabbing hold of both senior citizens. The hunk of shining rock however slams down upon all three; the tiled pathway around the crashed emerald fracturing on all sides. Thankfully, all of them remain completely unharmed; Damian intangibly leading them out of the chunk of jewelry.

Finally making it to the control box, Kingsley leans over and begins digging through his pockets; soon pulling out his beloved screwdriver. With but a single stroke, he jams the tip of his tool right between the box and its cover; soon starting to wedge the lid off. It takes only several motions before he finally pries off the lid, revealing the valves and button controls held within; immediately beginning to turn the valve clockwise. The fountain set around the broken evergreen begins to finally calm; the water spurting out from the shattered walls of emerald soon dying down as a shimmering rainbow is left in its wake.

Finished leading the elderly couple out of the garden, Damian zooms back towards his technically gifted host. Kingsley himself sits relieved; a peaceful sigh escapes him as he knows the destruction is at an end. Seeing his phantom friend approaching, he rises from the patches of dirt to complement the ghost boy with: “Thanks Damian. You’re a big help. Your bravery and swift thinking here saved everyone's lives.” “Are you kidding. You’re the real hero here. I just simply kept people out of harms away. You...Your the one that actually stopped this whole mess.” Tempting to rise from the dirt, the boy genius stands on his feet; his ankles soaring horribly upon standing. Watching Kingsley fumble back down, Damian approaches worried; asking him if: “Oh my god! Are you alright!?” “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my ankle. I’ll walk it off.” Rising to his knees, another question pops into Kingsley head; making him wonder aloud: “Still, kinda curious to know what screwed the fountain up so bad. Piping just doesn’t burst outta nowhere like that.”

Wondering such himself, Damien glides over towards the fractured fountain; taking a curious glance at its crown. Looking within the warped pipe at the top, the phantom teen spots something green clogging the inside. Phasing said object out with an intangible hand revealed to be a solid emerald leaf, a very familiar emerald leaf actually. Upon wondering why it seemed to recognize the jade crystal foliage; the answer suddenly hits him. “Oh...Oh my...” “What’s the matter, Damian!? Find something up there!?” he hears his host shout from below. Reluctant to show him; the phantom teen slowly descends to the base of the fountain where Kingsley stands. Without a word, Damian shyly presents the jade leaf to the boy genius; Kingsley surprised how: “That little thing caused the fountain to burst? That’s nuts. How did it even get up there?” “It’s because of me...” the specter shamefully admits. “What?” “I was the one who carelessly tossed this beautiful crystal leaf into the fountain’s crown. It’s because of me that the pipes burst and caused so much trouble.” “So it’s you’re fault, is it?” a third voice blames.

Gazing towards the source of the raspy intrusion, the duo are joined by an approaching old lady pointing her finger at the phantom as she continues with: “You’re the reason the piping went haywire!?” “Huh?” Damian wonders. “Look at the mess you made out of my precious garden!” Gazing upon the destruction that the owner presented, the two see before them the countless chunks of emerald having destroyed the tiled walkway, but the various flora as well. The rhododendrons ripped to shreds, the carnations crushed, the anemones annihilated, the peonies pulverized; almost every single flower in the garden pierced by jade shards. “All the work that I’ve put into this glorious garden, now reduced to nothing but a bejeweled catastrophe! But the worse of it all is the centerpiece.” Pointing towards the crystal tree; all three of them behold the result of the fountains clog; the emerald evergreen fractured by the burst piping. “My beautiful evergreen, shattered and destroyed beyond recognition and repair. Never to be beheld in its former glory again.” Contemplating the destruction of this once gorgeous garden that he had caused, despair ridden feelings begins to well within Damian. “Look, we’re sorry, okay. We didn’t mean to cause any of this.” Kingsley attempts to defend. “You think saying that’s gonna fix my garden? You know how much I’ll have to spend to restore all this; to track down another emerald evergreen!? How do you think your gonna compensate for the destruction you’ve caused!?”

With a guilty conscience weighing him down; the ghostly teen digs through his pockets to pull out his wallet. “I can-” Getting his wallet out, Kingsley lowers his phantom friends while he insists that: “Relax, I got it.” “But Kingsley, I can’t let you pay for what I did.” “You really think that you or your parents can afford to pay for all this? I got this covered.” A weak moan leaving his lips, the ghost boy puts his wallet away.

Limping through the twilight streets, Kingsley can’t help but hear his ghostly pal beside him berate himself on how: “It’s all my fault. All the wonder and beauty held within that glorious garden, all the CD’s and records that the music shop had gathered; all squandered and ruined because of my carelessness. The very pleasantries that deliver me joy and happiness, all come to ruin by my thoughtless actions. Truly, the universe wishes for me to weep; to wallow in the sorrows of my own doing.” “Step beating yourself up so much. You managed to save a whole bunch of people today; twice myself included. Swooping in and flying people out of the face of danger. You should be proud.” “Danger that I’ve caused. None of them would even have to be saved if it weren’t for me.” “It ain’t even remotely your fault. It’s how those places were constructed that was the problem. What made that flower shop keeper think that growing an emerald tree around a fountain wouldn’t lead to a disaster.”

Even with these statements, Kingsley finds his words showing little in lifting his friends mood; Damian simply staring down onto the concrete streets. “But uh, hey! Don’t be too down. We still got one more stop left on this encouragement express, and I guarantee that this final stop will really make the day. Trust me.” Upon those words does the boy genius lead Damian down a small flight of stone steps; soon opening the door at the bottom to reveal a small bar. The specter’s eyes are set alight on beholding the small stage behind the crowd; hearing the woman on stage sound off a haiku. “The wind is blowing. With it carries the glow of spring. The lily orchid blooms.” The end of her poetic haiku is met with a slew of snapping fingers; Damian's mouth open in astonishment. “The underground theater bar. I was so busy wallowing that I’d forgotten.” “I knew this would brighten you’re mood, even if it is kinda smokey. Think your up to get on there and perform.” Kingsley asks, waving away the puffs of cigarette smoke. “Are you kidding? I can’t wait.”

Brimming with excitement, the ghost rushes to the nearest empty table; soon pulling out a notebook and pencil as Kingsley sits next to him. Teething upon the neck of his pencil, a pondering groan escape from Damian’s lungs. “Nnn, I just can’t decide. What do you think I should write about?” he asks his host. “Whatever you want to write about, Damian. Poetry is a beautiful free form art with only the limits of your imagination.” “Kingsley, that not an answer. I need inspiration, dammit.”

The chime of the mic cuts in between their conversation, both looking out towards the stage to witness a woodland dressed gentleman tapping upon the tip. Drawing the entire bars attention, the gent clears his throat and begins his poetic anecdote with: “Few have never had the pleasure to experience an enchanting encounter with the heart of Asian nature such as I; beholding the unfiltered majesty of the Thailand jungles. The sunlight shinning through the bamboo thickets revealed the beauty reflecting within our precious earth. The elephants marching through the tall foliage as they guide their young showed to me the parental bonds we humans take for granted. Witnessing firsthand the symbolic relationship between the flock of oxpecker birds and pack of hippopotami proved to be a heartwarming example of the harmonious relationship between different creatures. All stunning examples of what we as a species should be striving for.” The woodland gents description of his trip through the Asian jungle lends him a mild snapping applause from the audience.

Fresh off hearing this performance does the distinct sound of rumbling hit Kingsley’s ears; the boy genius glancing down to see his stomach in an uproar. “Esh, guess those fries ain’t sitting too well. I’ll be in the bathroom if you need me.” he mentions as he rises from his seat. “Don’t take too long in there, Kingsley. Once I’m done, it’ll be my turn on the stage.” Damian insists without looking up from his notebook. With the boy genius strolling into the bathroom, he fails to witness the next poet come on stage; a woman in gothic attire standing within the spotlight.

Grabbing hold of the mic with her nail polished hands, the goth girl begins to recount the her tale by starting with. “The waxing moon shines down upon the decrepit remains of a Norwegian castle; the midnight lunar glow illuminating the rustic and dust ridden ruins of its halls revealing a haunting beauty one of which can only behold to believe. Traversing through the keeps darkest corridors, I had witnessed a magical site before me; fractured vision of the abodes glory days flash through the hallways. Passing through these sparks of nostalgia, the very air itself felt out of time; the furnishings and decors feeling new down to the very touch. But alas, these visions fade all too soon; the battered and decayed remains of the castle returning to shambles once more. Never have a seen anything more decadent such as that Norwegian keep, as if whatever haunts its halls is attempting to recollect memories lost to the unforgiving ages. Perhaps the day shall arrive when those that linger within the castle release themselves from the grip of their troubled memories and finally rest once and for all.” Having finished retelling her trips throughout the haunted castle, the gothic woman sets the mic back onto its pedestal; the audience lending her story a much stronger set of snaps. This haunting experience also sparks inspiration within the ghost boys own thoughts, Damian rapidly scribbling down words within his notebook.

Fresh from leaving one of the bathroom stalls, Kingsley draws in as much of the ocean breeze air fresheners captivating scent as he can; a refreshed breath leaving his lips. Ahh! That smells so much better. Certainly beats the puffs of smoke wafting outside. Don’t really know how anybody can live in that nicotine fueled air.

His shadow trailing behind the streetlights out the window, the technician strolls to the sink as he takes in more of the bathrooms pleasant incense. As he turns the sinks nobs, he wonders where exactly the refreshing smell originates; pressing the soap dispenser to find the scent coming from it alone. Whoa, that is some strong smelling soap; the scent itself leaking out from the dispenser just to grace everyone with its majestic scent. Almost as if the air of the very tropics themselves boarded a plane to town just to forcefully jam themselves straight into the noses of others. Wonder who sells this stuff?

Beside him does another stall open, a shadow trailing along the tiled floor as it approaches the boy genius’s backside.. All the while Kingsley himself remains distracted by his personal hygiene. Lathering his hands with the strong smelling soap, he finally rinses his palms; washing away every last bit of the suds. Taking in the smell of his palms, a relaxed sigh escapes from Kingsley lungs; the ocean breeze soon replaced with the scent of chloroform as a rag is forced over his mouth. Struggling against his assailants grasp, the boy genius looks within the mirror to find somebody holding him tightly, unable to make out any distinct details as his vision slowly fades. Kingsley soon falls into a deep slumber, the red swirling goggles once strapped to his neck slipping off onto the bathroom tile.

Upon the bars stage, the Damian’s chance in the spotlight finally arrives; the specter shyly putting his mouth to the mic as he announces: “Thank...Thank you all for giving me the chance to tell all of you my own tale. Truth be told, I’ve had this chronicle on the back of my mind for quite a long time now, and am happy to finally share with all of you one of my stories.” Sharing such earns the phantom teenager a small set of snaps from the audience before him; Damain looking down onto the paper of his notebook.

“Through a man made portal of swirling green, my entire body was cast into the emerald afterlife. Beyond the gates of the dead, I float through a seemingly endless void of tormented spirits and haunting beings; wailing in never ending agony over the mortality they’ve lost. Among the countless lost souls, creatures beyond words drift alongside them; praying upon their despair and sorrows like emotional predators. Floating along the swirling madness, a countless cavalcade of doors rest to my sides; each one unique to the next. Living behind their wood lie the countless memories of the departed, some being little more than single lit rooms, other massive expanses as far as the eye can see; though they all attempt to keep what little shards of memory their mortal lives once held. Soon, my journey led me faced with exotic islands beyond the reaches of the living; struggling against weathers of blistering heat and freezing winds. Venturing through the beautiful paradises of lost roman cities, to the unkempt hellscapes of torturous ruined prisons; I’ve ventured out through the most alien and imaginative worlds that human imagination has yet to comprehend. But at long last, my search for home came at an end; led to the very portal I was thrust into. Without a single moment of hesitance, I bolted through the swirling gate, soon met with my loving parents arms once more.”

Upon finishing his daring story through the dimension of the dead, Damian steps away from the mic and gives the audience a graceful bow. The silence is then shattered by a wave of snapping fingers, everyone in the bar applauding the ghostly teen’s haunting tale. Hearing himself receive such an ovation brings a bright smile to his face, the phantom casting away his dark hood to reveal his long sleeved dark yellow garbs underneath. That smile however starts to dissolve upon staring back towards his table; realizing his friends failed return from the bathroom.

Entering the men’s washroom, Damian sees not a single soul beyond the door; not even a sign of his host. “Kingsley? You in here?” he calls out. Alas, he fails to bait even a remote response, hearing only the acoustics of the tile repeating his call. His sites soon turns to the stalls, checking underneath to find not a single pair of feet. Opening all three of them yield nothing either, each one completely vacant. Quite peculiar to be honest. He definitely said he was going to the restrooms, certain that he was. It’s not like him to just depart without so much as warning, especially during a day out such as this.

Upon pondering this does Damian feel something crack below his feet, glancing down and lifting his foot to find a familiar set of goggles, one of the lenses shattered by the specters foot. Picking them off the floor, he knew right away who they belonged to. This-these are Kingsley’s favorite pair! He’s almost always has them around his neck. Something must have happened. He wouldn’t just leave them on the floor so carelessly like this. Betting he was kidnapped, this is a job for the cops.

With this in mind, Damian feverishly pulls out his phone; his finger resting on the police dial. Right when he was ready to make the call, a worrying thought perks up and causes him to hesitate. Hang on! If he was kidnapped, it’s almost a safe bet they plan to hold him hostage; having him at gunpoint and could cap him at any sign of the heat. Might wanna call in somebody that can make things go smoothly. Thinking this, the phantom teen scrolls up to the “C” list; his finger hovering over Cayenne’s number. Eh, maybe not. She might wind up making things worse.

Putting his phone back, the ghostly teen lets out disheartened groan. It’s no use. It doesn’t matter who can help out, they’ll just draw attention and put Kingsley in danger. Guess its more of a solo rescue mission then. Still, there is one thing that can track him down. Something that Dad talked about a couple years back. Might be kinda rusty at it, hadn’t really had much need to practice. Oh well, guess now’s a good a time as any.

Taking in a deep breath, Damian lets out calming sigh; shutting his eyes as he holds the pair of broken goggles before him. An emerald green aura begins to emit from the ghost boys palms, soon enveloping Kingsley’s swirling goggles in their glow. From the aura do the pair of goggles start to ascend from his hands; the phantom focusing upon the eye wear until nothing else remains in his mind. With enough concentration, the aura surrounding the goggles transforms into a violet hue; soon trailing away from the pair of eye wear and drifting towards the left. Opening his eyes, Damian witnesses the aura trial phasing through the bathroom window. Walking to the small window, the specter lightly taps the glass; the window falling over onto the concrete street. From there, Damian phases out from the bathroom and in to the alley; swiftly following the aura of his friend out into the streets.

Trapped within the dim confines of a ruined room, two thugs finish tying the gifted technician from neck to toe tightly to a wooden chair; remaining oddly calm to the daring situation at hand. “Sooo...why did you guys kidnap me again?” he nonchalantly asks his captors. “For real, you saying don’t remember a thing about us?” the one to his front wonders. “Mmm...Nah.” “Not even the time we kidnapped ya a few months back?” the goon wonder, hurt by the boy genius’s lack of memory. “Eh, ain’t ringing any bells.” “Seriously, how often does ya sorry ass get ganked that you don’t recognize us?” the other behind him wonders as he walks to Kingsley’s front. “Happens more times then you’d think, honestly. Ya mind being a bit more specific?” “The Raw Shuck gang?” Mentioning their identities leaves their captive ever clueless; Kingsley simply starring at them with a confused gaze. “Those three brats you had with ya tore up our sweet hideout the last time we took ya.” “Nnn...sounds familiar, but...You sure that was you guys?” Upon this absence of memory, the two crooks are left speechless; one of their eyes beginning to well up with tears. Wiping the tear off his face, the goon pulls his partner aside to talk in private.

Facing away from their captive, the one goon goes on to mention: “Told ya our reputation’s been plummeting the past couple months. Gotten so bad that this mofo we ganked a while back can’t even remember us.” “Maybe it wouldn’t have took a nose dive down to the earths core and out the other side if we had more than one hideout. The damage that assholes kids caused took out half our gang.” “Hey, it ain’t my fault that some new brats in town are muscling in on our turfs and beaten the shit outta us.” “Who’s even stompin us out anyway? Didn’t even hear a single name.” “I don’t fuckin know. Bunch of young ass mofo’s going around callin themselves the “Yellow Jacket”. Some shit like that.” “You fuckin playin with me here? What kind of twink ass freaks just strutten through the streets like tough shit name themselves after a bunch of damn wasps?” “Well, who names their gang after a psychological test?” Kingsley interjects. From behind their back, the two goon look back towards the boy genius; glancing to each other to realize their captive listening their private conversation. Fulling turning back to their tied up hostage, the two gaze upon Kingsley with intimidating glares; one of them putting their face to the boy genius’s and threatening with: “Ain’t nobody gonna bust you outta here this time.” Both make their exit out; the other goon leaving Kingsley with a departing promise. “You gonna pay for make fools outta the Raw Shuck.”

With these parting words to the two thugs leave the boy genius tied up; Kingsley himself left apathetic to their warning. “Oh no. I, Kingsley Spicer, have been captured once again by a menacing gang of thugs and entrapped under their ropes. If only I had come prepared for this inevitable situation. Oh wait...” he claims with droning sarcasm. Loosening his wrist from the tight hold of his restraints, the boy reveals a watch from under the ropes. Pressing a button to its side causes the watches face to open; a small mechanical appendage soon firing a small laser. “I did.” the boy genius sarcastically recounts as the laser cuts through the rope holding him down. Once the last of his binds has been severed, Kingsley rises from the wooden chair, brushing off the loose strands of rope. “And people wonder why I wear a watch with smartphones around.”

Outside, Damian stares onward as a nervous gulp passes through his through; beholding the run down hospital blending into the night. “Get it together, Damian. It’s an abandoned hospital...filled to the brim with murderous thugs ready to unload their guns towards an intruder at a moments notice. No big deal, nothing to fear.” Glancing down to the pair of broken goggles in his hands, the phantom teen witnesses the voilet aura trail winding through the front door. “If I play my cards just right, I can swoop in and get Kingsley right out. All with no one else the wiser.” This strategy cemented in his head, Damian makes himself invisible to the naked eye and glides right through the front door.

Set deep within the dark corridors of the hospital, two goons stroll past an open desk sitting right in the middle of a big intersection. “So they asked you how you want your pork cooked?”. “Yeah, it was really weird. You told me that pork has to be cooked in a specific way right?” “It has to be cooked thoroughly so that all the bacteria in it get burned off. Kinda shocking that they even asked in the first place.” “Yeah, probably won’t be long before they catch the heat of the FDA. That steakhouse is a lawsuit waiting to happen, just wait.” Once the two turn the corner, their thought to be captive peeks out over the counter; glancing in both directions before sneaking away in the opposite direction.

Prowling through the molding hospital halls, stealthy technician gazes up towards the ceiling; the exit signs hanging over head beaten in. Beyond it however laid another sign, pointing where the fire escape is located. Seems like the perfect getaway at first, doesn’t it? Just slip through the emergency exit and book it as fast as ya can. But with the tempting bait lies an insidious trap. Judging by the dim lights, this place is still holding the power together. The alarm to the fire escape probably hasn’t been cut. Try and walk out through there and the blaring alarm will get the whole hospitals attention. Still, there’s gotta be another way out. Somewhere nobody will even notice anybody making their getaway. Upon wondering such does Kingsley witness a shadow creeping out from the corner; soon frantically looking around for a place to hide.

Out from beyond the corner, disgruntled goon walk through the empty hallway with a mop and bucket in hand. “Man, why the fuck do I always get stuck with janitor duty. Ain’t like anybody else is going through this moldy ass shit hole. Only got me on this one man clean up crew with just fucking mop and bucket; don’t know what makes em think that anybody can clean this whole crap dump with just these thing.” Caught up in his aggravated rantings, the janitorial grunt fails to discover Kingsley hiding within one of the open patient rooms; the door broken from its hinges. Once the angry cleaner was clear from the halls, the sneaking genius slinks away from the janitor; sadly unaware of his invisible ghostly pal searching for him on the other side of the hall.

Passing the pissed grunt overhead, Damian continues to trail through the dim hospital halls; following the violet aura emanating from his friends broken goggles. His trailing search soon takes him to a split in the middle; Kingsley’s energy venturing off in both directions of an intersecting hallway. The phantom ponders why his trail would fracture so distinctly like this; only two explanations at the top of his head. Either these thugs couldn’t decide where to stow him, or...he must have broke free! If the latter is true, then Kingsley would be attempting to sneak out towards the exit. Best track him down post haste, lest these brutish thugs catch him in the midst of his escape. Judging from where the entrance is located, Kingsley would likely be going...right. Having thought this, Damian takes a right on the 4 way hallway; resuming his rescue as he continue to follow his friend’s aura.

His invisible pursuits soon lead him to an alarming predicament. Standing before him be a whole cavalcade of thugs, crooks and grunts, mingling to one another of their criminal escapades within what looked to be a small lobby. Oh...oh boy...Okay, this gonna be tight. Just gotta not make a single sound and this’ll go as silky smooth as melting butter on top of toasted bread.

Carefully does Damian start to fly over the pack of thugs without so much as a peep; as getting close to the ceiling as he possibly can without touching it. Only a few feet of space stand between their countless heads and his body; the specter quieting his breath so not to draw any attention. As the phantom teen carefully floats over the murmuring crowd, he regrets not making enough time to practice his other ghostly abilities with his father; maintaining intangibility alongside invisibility being a skill that would have come in handy in situations such as this. Perhaps once this is all over, the father could explain how to do so without contracting overwhelming migraines.

A trouble that bares its fangs when Damian’s clothes are caught on the ceiling, the unexpected jerk making the mineral fiber tile over him tremble. Glancing back, the phantom had found the bottom back of his shirt caught along a loose wire. Hearing the murmuring cease underneath, Damian gazes down to find the crooks below him staring up towards him. “Anyone else see that?” “Yeah, part of the ceiling moved.” “I saw it too!” “Probably just rats! This place is crawling with them.” “I don’t know, I ain’t hearing any scuttling.” With the crowd under him growing curious, Damian slowly attempts to pick out his shirt from the wiring; his endeavors causing the tile over him to shake. “There! It’s moving! I knew it!” “Da faq’s goin on up there!” “Someone got a stick or somethin?” “We could just stack on each other and reach up there.” “Hell, no. I ain’t havin someones dirty ass dick on the back of my neck.” “Found a broken IV pole. Will that work?” The crowd beneath him gathering ever closer, Damian hurries to unhook his shirt from the loose wire; someone from the band of crook drawing forth with a long metal pole. Right as the goon with the broken IV pole was under him, the phantom manages to free himself from the wires grasp. The crook below begins to thrust the pole upward; Damian slipping right past its metal neck just in the nick of time. Floating away from the mineral fiber tile, the lackey instead pokes at the loose bit of ceiling; lifting the tile to reveal simply the loose cables underneath. “Huh, maybe it was just some rats.” “Well, what else do you expect from an abandoned hospital?” “Don’t know. Fuckin ghost.” “Josique, shut yo damn mouth.” Finally putting the curious crowd behind him, Damian lets loose a quiet sigh; glancing back to find not a single one of them the wiser.

The phantom then attempts takes off from the gang of goons, hoping to gain as much distance from them as possible; his getaway immediately interrupted when slamming into a wayward henchman. Both the invisible ghost and goon fall right on their asses on impact; the entire crowd behind them drawn by the unexpected fall. “You okay there, man?” one of them worries. “Ah! Anybody see what the hell happened?” the crook on the cracked marble wonders. “Think you might have tripped?” “No, felt like I ran into somebody.” The crowd of criminals behind him approaching the two, Damian wastes not one more moment to escape while he’s still remains relatively undetected; zipping right past the baddie before those behind him could realize his presence.

Peeking out from the other side of a thick metal door; Kingsley finds himself having reached the roof of the hospital; the full moon illuminating the entire top of the building to reveal not a soul wandering outside. With nobody in site, the wonderous genius steps out into the night; the cool fall winds brushing past as he shuts the door behind him. Although a little shivering, the freezing night air is welcoming none the less; taking in a breath free from the foul stench of aging mold and dried blood. It never really crosses the mind the kind of horrible odors that can originate from a hospital with cleanup being a constant need. With barely anybody around to keep up maintenance, all the fowl smelling bacteria comes out to play. Kinda surprising then that no one down there has contracted any diseases yet.

Putting these thoughts behind him though, Kingsley opts to take a glance out from the side; staring down below to spot an armed thug patrolling the face of the hospital. Pretty obvious that they’d have the front of their hideout covered, but what about the sides? Looking down to the left shows a couple of crooks creeping along their HQ’s first half. Okay, maybe the right might prove more lax. But alas, walking across the rooftop revealed the hospitals right side to be just as secure as its left. Right, they probably have the back covered as well. And just as predicted, the back shows to be just as covered as the rest of the outside. They’re not really being lazy with security, are they? There isn’t a single blind spot to climb down to and sneak off. With every corner of this place covered, there’s really only one option left to take. Digging through his pockets, the boy genius pulls out his smart phone; unlocking his screen and brings up his contacts. Hard to believe they didn’t think of taking this away.

Scrolling through his friends number, he ponders who exactly to call in this time of need; knowing all too well that calling in someone like Cayenne would risk causing one heck of a commotion and could end extremely poorly. No...a situation such as this calls for someone with a far more careful hand. Somebody who can easily slip into the shadows and go by undetected; as if turning invisible to the naked eye. But who exactly can fulfill such an insanely careful and incredibly crafty roll... Eh, Damian could fit the bill.

Finally making his decisions, Kingsley taps on his ghostly pals number; putting his phone to his ear to hear the dial tone sound off. Come on, please pick up…

On the floors below, Damian himself floats through the dim halls of the hospital in pursuing his friends aura. The phantoms search soon leads him to a run down patients room, opening the door to find before him a peculiar site. Behind the destroyed equipment at the end of the room be a lone wooden chair with a set of rope surrounding its bottom. Picking the rope off the old marble floor shows the binds having been cut in half at the back; sporting scorch marks around the severed end. Touching these marks felt hot to the touch; the smell of burnt cloth still fresh.

They definitely tried to keep him held up in here; but knowing Kingsley, he swiftly figured out a way to escape. The goons outside don’t really seemed particularly alarmed; they must not realize that he’s free yet. Gahh! Should’ve took the left instead of the right back at the split. Guess there’s not much else that can be done but backtrack and hope that Kingsley can stay outta site long enough.

Right as he ready to trudge back through the halls, the phantom’s phone blares out Drakes “In my feelings”; Damian scrambling through his pockets to pull out the source of the echoing ringing. From the side, the phantom feverishly puts his call on hold and shuts down his phone entirely; regrets of not doing so sooner flaring in his mind. Though there’s little time for self deprecation, as the specter soon hears the sound of approaching footsteps. “Who the hell’s playing Drake in here?”

Three thugs soon storm through the doorway; gazing within the seemingly empty patient room as one of them assures that: “Swear I heard it come from in here.” “Think some dumbass might’ve left their phone in lyin around?” the other wonders. “Maybe. Let’s look around. See if someone’s hiding in here.” the last suggests. All three of them start to look deeper within the ruins of the patients room, unaware of the source of the noise standing right beside them. Damian remains completely quiet as the crooks search through the broken hospital furnishings; inching closer towards the rooms open exit.

One of the lackeys soon comes across the chair surrounded by freshly cut rope. “Hey, guys. We kidnapped anybody recently?” he wonders. “Yeah, somebody finally knocked that Spicer brat and brung him back. Have him stowed up somewhere. Why?” one of them questions. “Uh, think they might have got out.” “What!?” From the other side of the room, the goon rushes to her comrades side and beholds the very same site as he. Picking the rope up, she ran through its string to come upon its severed end. “Dammit! How the hell, he get out so fuckin fast!?” “We gotta go tell the others. Who know’s how long he’s been sneakin around here?”

With the crooks alarm does Damian finally leave through the doorway; soon meeting with the blunt force of a wayward baseball bat. The impact causes the phantom to fall to the marble floor; soon becoming visible to the world once again. All within the patient room stares down onto him; surprised of his sudden appearance. “The fuck! Where the hell’d he come from!” “Swear, this town is full of freaks!” “Didn’t even see him at all. Who punched his lights out?” “That be me, mofo’s.” someone speaks up. Coming out from the hall, a forth crook wearing an odd pair of goggles comes in wielding a baseball bat. “Josique!?” “Ya’ll callin me fuckin stupid for blowin my cash on inferred goggles! Bet all ya’ll asshole kickin yoselves for constantly given me shit! “God dammit, Josique. You wastin yo greens on stupid shit stead of crack or hoes? The fucks wrong with ya?” Well, that look like a waste a greens, mofo’s!?” he gloats, points to the groaning ghost boy. Writhing on the floor; Damian’s consciousness begins to elude him; the last words he hears before blacking out be: “Just shut up and get the cuffs.”

Anxiously awaiting atop the roof, Kingsley stands by as he attempts to call for his phantom friends; the droning ring sounding out in his ear sweat drips down his forehead. A disheartened sigh leaves his lungs when the tone goes straight to voicemail; spurring the chance to leave a message and jumping back to his contacts. Guess there really isn’t much options left to take now, is there? Things might get kinda messy with Cayenne charging straight in, but what else can be done at this point. Just hope she doesn’t go overboard this time.

The boy genius scrolling back up towards the C’s in his contacts, his finger hovers over Cayenne’s number. Just when he was ready to make the call, his phone picks up an incoming call; the oncoming number soon turning to Damian’s name. Seeing his ghostly pal calling, Kingsley waits not one more moment to take the call; putting the phone up to his ear and pleading: “Damian! Thank goodness I finally caught you. Listen, I’m trapped up here at the top of an abandoned hospital. I need you come get me before the goons down below find out I’m-” “Hello, dear friend.” a deep voice greets. Kingsley nerves wind right back up when hearing the unfamiliar tone on the other end. “Mind staying on the line as you come back down, buddy? I have a guest down here that I think you be interested to reunite with.”

Held within the dim confines of a central office, Damian struggles to free himself from a set of neon green handcuff. Turning intangible fails to release his hands from their grip; a painful shock delivered to his whole body that forces him back to the physical plane. As he recovers from the sudden shock, a voice to his side warns that: “Slipping outta those cuffs ain’t gonna be that easy for ya, pal.” The specter gazes over towards a slim man donning a pale business suit; his face sporting black markings around his eyes. “I know. These are standard phantom containment cuffs. Only official phantom patrol officials are allowed access to these. How did someone like you get your hands on a pair?” Damian demands. “Kinda hate to admit it, but nabbing a pair of those puppies wasn’t easy. Had to go through a ton of black market channels just to try and find the damn things. Course since last time, we knew that it had to be a necessary investment. A little precaution just in case. And judging from the way your struggling in those cuff; I’d say it was all worth it.” Turning away from his ghostly captive, the man puts his feet up over his desks and lays back on his chair.

Right after he gloats does his office door creaks open, the boy genius himself being led in by a crook with a gun pointed to his back. “Ah, speaking of which, glad to see you back. Allow me to formally welcome you into the depth of the Raw Shucks den.” Damian steps out from the shadows, fervently asking: “Kingsley! Are you okay!? Did they hurt you!? I- Hang on second.” The phantom then turns his sites back towards the man behind the desk, wondering: “The Raw Shucks? Really? What kind of crime boss would name their gang after some psychological test?” “I was asking the exact same thing.” Kingsley adds. Slamming his fist against the desk, the boss rises from his seat; insisting that: “It’s meant to be a bad ass name! It’s supposed to tell others that we’ll psychologically ruin them. Get inside their mind. The trauma we cause’ll fuck them up. Ya get it? Come on.” Everyone in the office stands in the office in silence; perplexed of the boss’s naming reasons. Glancing to the goon holding Kingsley at gunpoint; Damian watches as she simply just shrugs. The lack of a response makes the boss pinch his nose as an irritated groan escapes his lungs. “Where the hell was I?” Snapping his finger; he reminds himself that he cut off at: “Right. Right. Threats.”

Sitting back down, the boss picks up where he left off; promising Kingsley that: “We’re gonna make you pay for crashing our party last time, Spice boy. Those brat you sicked on us ain’t here to help you out this time. Not to mention having your ghostly pal here on his leash. The bust up since then set us back big time. Rival gangs have been coming in and muscling in on our turfs, drug trafficking ring’s been shafted, heists and robberies have been dwindling to a crawl; it’s all been just a really shitty month to be honest. But ya know something?” The boss then vaults right over his desk; finishing his statement as he lands with: “All that’s gonna change real soon once we cash in on the pretty pennies both your ransoms will make. The investments we made in our hour of need will pay themselves back tenfold. With all those greens fueling are return, we’ll take back Townsville’s underbelly and conquer what lies beyond!”

His painted gaze aimed towards the boy genius, boss commands him with: “Now, hands up, phone down.” Feeling the cold steel of the iron barrel on his back, Kingsley calmly complies with the bosses orders; dropping his phone and raising both hands over his head. After picking up the mobile device, the boss glances right above his hostage’s head to find the boys hands balled tightly; immediately ordering his guest to: “Fist...Open.” With those words does Kingsley look towards his ghostly friend; Damian staring back as his eyes squint. Following the bosses words does the boy genius open his palms; releasing a small black ball that drops towards the ground. Both the boss and phantom watch as the featureless ball rolls along the marble crack; Damian’s eyes widening as he realizes his friends plan. The little ball finally explodes; Kingsley giving his phantom friend a determined smile as the entire office is swiftly enveloped in a shroud of white. Coughing up the smoke bombs discharge, the crime boss flails about to try and clear out the clouds; several gunshots sounding off in the chaos. The smoke eventually dissipates, the boss and his armed lackey finding their guest having vanished. Glancing back to his desk’s side, they saw that the phantom has disappeared as well. A small growl coming from between his teeth soon morphs into a full blown scream; the boss crushing the boy genius’s phone with his bare hands. He swiftly turns towards his goon; demanding that she: “Don’t just stand there, go after them!” Once the crook sprints out into the hall, her boss vaults back on the other side of his desk; grabbing hold of the intercom and announcing to the entire hideout. “Attention, my lovable pack of marauders. We got a couple escapees scuttling in our halls! Get yourselves armed and scramble towards the west wing, on the double!”

His announcment echoing across the entire hospital, Kingsley and Damian sprint as fast as their legs can carry them. “You really can’t phase us outta here?” the boy genius question. “Unfortunately, no. As long as these accursed cuffs cover my hands, nearly all of my powers are locked under its steel. Curse the bounding achievements of paranormal technology!’” “Damian, relax. I can get them off. We just have to find someplace to hide so I can pick the lock.”

Winding and weaving themselves through the molding halls, the duo attempt to break down every door they can in hopes of finding a place to hide; most of the doors they encounter either locked or stuck shut. Those few with no doors fail to be effective hiding places; rooms they come across either being cluttered messes or small closets.

Their escapades are eventually come to a dead end, Damian stopping in his tracks when turning the corner. Kingsley unintentionally tackles him down, both boys falling upon the dirty marble floor. “Ah, why’d you stop?” the boy genius wonders; soon looking along his side to find the answer. Rising from the floor, the duo are faced with a squad of armed goons and crook; all their firearms aimed right at the two. “Oh, wow. They gathered faster then I anticipated. That’s...quite impressive actually.” the technician admits. “Yeah, bitch. The Raw Shucks don’t slouch around. Now, you two piss ant’s scramble back your rooms before we cap yo asses.” one of them warns.

To the specters side, Kingsley whispers that: “I only packed the one smoke bomb. I don’t got anything else up my sleeves.” Gazing out to the group of armed thugs set before him, the phantom puts on his bravest face and counter that: “You might not...but I do. Stay behind me and plug your ears.” With that answer, Damian start to approach the front of the crowd; Kingsley frantically whispering: “What are you doing!?” “Something that my dad said that I should only do in emergencies.”

The phantom teen stepping to the front of the pack of lethal crooks; one of them warns the boy to: “Come on, kid, don’t be a hero. Just back away and play nice.” Breaking his determined glare, Damian takes in a mighty breath of air; the crowd before him perplexed why the boy was holding his breath. Their answer is soon given in the form of a bellowing screech; Damian letting loose powerful emerald waves from his mouth. Kingsley backs away towards the wall, covering his ears upon the horrifying screech. The intense wail starts pushing the thugs before the phantom back; the emerald waves causing them to careen into the walls. While some try to block out the unholy shrieking, others attempt to fire upon the bellowing phantom; their bullets failing to travel far as the emerald waves push them back. The constant blast of booming screams starts to make the entire hospital tremble; the walls before him beginning to give way. Soon, Damian’s tormenting wails breaking through the facilities structure, entire chunks of the hospital being blown away by his green screech.

Eventually, the boy genius hears the ear piercing screams die down; Kingsley opens his eyes to find an astonishing site. Before his ghostly friend, the entire side of the hospital had been completely destroyed; a funneling hole left remaining in the aftermath. He finally breaks his stare out into the open night sky when he witnesses Damian fall to his knees; the specter coughing up blood onto the broken marble floor. “Damian!” the boy genius shouts; rushing to his phantom friends side. Kneeling to Damian, Kingsley worries if: “Are you okay!?” Ignoring the boy genius’s question, the ghostly teen puts his entrapped hands before Kingsley. “Get these cuffs off. They’ll be here any minute.” he wheezes out. Upon this request, Kingsley frantically digs through his pockets, soon pulling out his trusted screwdriver and jamming its tip straight into the cuffs lock. As he shifts his tool through Damian’s binds, both begins to hear the echo of constant footstep approaching; the ghost boy urging his friend to: “Hurry...” Kingsley looks back to see shadows he begin to creep out from the corner, making him haste his lock picking. Finally, the specter’s cuffs come undone, the technological metal binds falling to the floor.

Damian witnesses a pack of crooks turn the corner, witnessing their barrels aimed right towards the two. Before a single one of them could open fire; the phantom bounces on the boy genius. Kingsley hears the sound of gunfire echo through the hall; looking beyond his phantom friend to find the goons behind them unleashing their salvo atop the two. Though dozens of bullets pass right through them, not one does any harm to them. The teenage genius looks down to find Damian hugging him as tight as he possibly can, the phantom turning them both intangible against the led shower. With whatever strength he bares left; the specter jumps away from the small cavalcade of armed of criminals and rockets out from the very hole that he’s created. The thugs behind them attempt to shoot the escaping duo right out of the sky, none of them coming close to land a single bullet on either of them.

In his flight, Kingsley looks back towards the hospital disappearing in the distance; admitting that: “I can’t believe we actually made it outta there in one piece. Damian, your-” Just before the boy could speak any further, his friends strength finally fades; both boy soon begin to plummet down towards the buildings below. Both soon land right on top of an apartment building; the duo rolling across the rooftop before stopping right near the edge.

Slowly rising from their rough landing, Kingsley looks on towards the direction of their escape; claiming that: “I don’t think they’re gonna pursue us this close to the city.” Turning back to his savor, he begins to conclude that: “I think we should be safe to-” Silencing his statement, Kingsley witnesses his phantom friend kneeling on his knees; the sound of sniveling sounding out across the rooftop. “What...What the matter? Are you still hurt?” the boy genius wonders, nearing Damian’s side. “I’m...so...worthless...” Taken aback by his self loathing statement, Kingsley looks to his phantom friends face to find tears trickling down his cheeks. “What?” “I screwed practically everything over. I couldn’t keep you from getting kidnapped, I broke your favorite pair of goggles, and when I tried rescuing you, I just wound up getting caught myself.” he reviews, presenting Kingsley shattered lens to him. Taking the eye wear from his ghostly pals palms, the boy genius hears him continue with: “All day, things how been taking a turn for the worse and its all cause of me. I’m nothing but trouble. Cayenne was right. I’m nothing but a melodramatic coward.” Kingsley throws his broken set of goggles aside; patting his self loathing friend on the shoulder as he denies that: “Damian, that ain’t true in the slightest. Far from it. I probably would have wound up becoming a led filled organ pinata if you hadn’t came in and got me out of that nest of crooks.” “But...you still had to come and save my spectral hide after I got locked in ghost proof cuffs.” “And you still went and blew a ton of them away. Even with those things on; you not only took them out, but blew up a whole half of a hospital, all just by screaming. We would have been caught dead if you couldn’t do that.”

Wiping away the snot from his nose; Damian adds with his retort with: “No one’s gonna believe any of this coming out of our mouths though. People like Cayenne’ll still see me as nothing more then a spineless poet.” A melancholy sigh escaping from his lungs, the teenage specter, continues with: “Much like natures mighty lifeline, the graceful honeybee. Keeping their world beautiful and full of life. But alas, those that benefit from them the most see them as nothing but a nuisance, much like I.” “Stop thinking like that. You shouldn’t care what the vast majority of people think of you anyway. Doing that’s just gonna make you get all kinds of unnecessary stress. You know who’s opinion you should really be concerned with?” “Who’s?” Pointing his finger right to his ghostly pals nose; Kingsley simply answers: “Yours.” Kingsley sees that this statement fails to waver Damian’s self doubt; swiftly thinking what he should add to cheer up his phantom friend. “But…even if you still aren’t too sure about yourself. Just know that...you’ll always be a hero in my eyes.” This final guarantee makes a smile crack between the spectral teens cheeks; a laugh soon escaping through his teeth. “Thanks Kingsley.”

Rising from the course roof, Damian stands tall by Kingsley’s side; both boys starring out up to the full moon as it shines its lunar glow down upon the town. “The full moon. Shining its brightest when facing the earth and its struggles. Much like how all of us can shine when we face our existence.” “Glad your feeling better, buddy.”

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

Might’ve given credit about Damian earlier, but just in case:

Damian belongs to: @princesscallyie

[mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank]

tag game

thanks @haikyuumanga for tagging me!

five things in my bag:

1. excessive amounts of chapstick

2. one of those tiny tissue packs

3. headphones that probably don’t work anymore

4. band-aids bc i’m the mom friend apparently

5. a cute ass change purse:)

five things in my room:

1. my record player

2. my cat 99% of the time

3. a cool harry potter artwork thingy i got from pottermore

4. some funko pop figures (i still haven’t decided if my stan lee one or my roger taylor one is my favorite)

5. a little embroidery hoop that says mischief managed that a family friend of ours made me

five of my favorite things:

1. any and all music

2. helping my friends

3. when my mom sends me memes from like 2013 but it’s okay because she’s trying her best

4. jamming to queen or gvf or any other rock music with my dad

5. making people smile

five things i’m into right now:

1. queen ofc

2. greta van fleet, especially my boy jake and his guitar solos

3. cool planes (i’m lookin at you b-2 spirit)

4. track:)

5. world war ii facts

five things on my to-do list:

1. learn to play guitar

2. collect more vinyls

3. read some new books

4. visit washington dc because i love museums

5. ride in a hot air balloon

tagging anyone who wants to do it

[sandiegodjstaci]

The Hipster's Guide to Classic Country Music

The Hipster's Guide to Classic Country Music

Let’s face it…if your mountain man beard, microbrew fetish, and pipe collection are no longer enough, classic country music can help you get to the next level of hipster (so can a pair of Wrangler jeans). My name is DJ Staci, the Track Star, and I grew up on country music. I lived on a 5-acre llama ranch just outside of Seattle during the grunge era…do you see how there’s a hipster seed in there? I knew I was not your standard redneck when, at 14, my dad’s hunting drew me towards vegetarianism (celebrating 26 meat-free years now). At 18, I pierced my nose and moved to southern California where I could eat tofu, get feminism tattoos, and vote for democrats in a diverse, shame-free environment…but that country music seed definitely grew roots throughout my childhood. In fact, during my 20s, I escaped my days of drinking expensive juice and visiting organic farmer’s markets by honky tonkin’ every week. I would go line dancing at the Brandin’ Iron Saloon in San Bernardino (the biggest & best honky tonk a.k.a. country bar west of Gilley’s…and watch John Travolta & Debra Winger in “Urban Cowboy” if you don’t understand either of those references).

  Memes from We Hate Pop Country

  Unfortunately, country music withered up and died after the 2000s. After DJing at the world’s largest country music festival (Stagecoach–the country cousin of Coachella), I had to stop listening to country music on the radio. The so-called country you hear on the radio today is known as “pop country” by country music purists (those of us who prefer classic country or “real” country). The artists who “ruined” country music are people like Taylor Swift, Sam Hunt, Florida Georgia Line, Thomas Rhett, & Luke Bryant (and many others). Follow “We Hate Pop Country” on Facebook to learn more.

If you like “Wake Me Up” by Avicii, “Honey I’m Good” by Andy Grammer, “I Will Wait” by Mumford & Sons, “The Country Death Song” by the Violent Femmes, “Easy” by Sheryl Crow, “Wish I Knew You” by the Revivalists, “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show, or Philip Phillips, classic country will be a great fit. If watching the movie Walk the Line turned you into a Johnny Cash fan, rest assured there is plenty more music like that out there. If you resonate as a defiant outsider or a feminist or a government-hating pothead, classic country music welcomes you with open arms! Classic country is outlaw music–pure and simple. It was created by people who knew they were on the outskirts of mainstream society and unshakingly flipped it the bird à la Johnny Cash at San Quentin (below).

  Johnny Cash after photographer Jim Marshall asked him to do a shot for the warden (San Quentin Prison – 1969)

  Did you know Loretta Lynn, who sang the feminist anthem “The Pill,” & Jack White from the White Stripes, who also has some killer bluegrass tunes, created an album together? Did you know Johnny Cash has covered songs by Nine Inch Nails and Depeche Mode? Have you heard Lady Gaga’s country roads version of “Born This Way?” Did you know Beyonce has a kick ass collab with the Dixie Chicks (the girl-power Texas band who was banned from country radio for saying they were ashamed that George Bush is from their home state) called “Daddy Lessons”? Did you know the black lead singer of Hootie & the Blowfish bailed on the band so he could start a solo country music career (country fans know him as Darius Rucker)? Did you know when I DJ classic country parties, I have to ask the client if swear words are OK?

Do I have your attention now? I thought so. Let’s continue 🙂 You’ll love the country artists as much as you love their music–I promise.

  Justin Timberlake & Chris Stapleton performing together at the 49th Country Music Association Awards

  THE KING OF COUNTRY MUSIC

First, let’s start with the forefather of all country music kick-assery: Hank Williams. Hank signed to MGM Records in 1947 and his twangy anthems changed country music forever. He was famously fired by the Grand Ole Opry in 1952 after one of many no-shows. He lived a turbulent life that his son Hank Jr sings about in his cornerstone song “Family Tradition.” In true rock star style, Hank Sr. died of heart failure brought on by prescription drug abuse and alcoholism in 1953. Hipster-friendly Hank Williams songs include:

I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry

Hey Good Lookin’

Jambalaya (on the Bayou)

Tear in my Beer

Your Cheating Heart

  TOP 125 CLASSIC COUNTRY SONGS FOR HIPSTERS

Pour yourself some Popcorn Sutton’s Tennessee White Whiskey (that’s legal moonshine for you city slickers) & get ready for some serious drinkin’ music free of “Friends in Low Places,” “Achy Breaky Heart,” “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” “Old Town Road,” and “The Git Up.” I’ve includes lots of notes & trivia about the playlist songs because we hipsters can’t just enjoy music in a vacuum…we like to sound like a seasoned expert when putting on a playlist for friends, yes? I’ve included standards as well as a number of “B sides” that will even impress country music enthusiasts…you know the kind of people who still say “Country Western.”

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18 Wheels & a Dozen Roses, Kathy Mattea

9 to 5, Dolly Parton

A Boy Named Sue, Johnny Cash

All My Exes Live in Texas, George Strait

Amarillo by Morning, George Strait

Are You Ready for the Country, Waylon Jennings

Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?, Waylon Jennings (Referring to Hank Williams Sr.)

Back Where I Come From, Kenny Chesney

Bed You Made for Me, Highway 101

Before Country Was Cool, Barbara Mandrell

Born to Boogie, Hank Williams Jr. (Hank Sr’s son)

Chattahoochee, Alan Jackson

Church on Cumberland Road, Shenandoah

Coal Miner’s Daughter, Loretta Lynn (Watch her biographical movie “Coal Miner’s Daughter” staring Sissy Spacek!)

Coat of Many Colors, Dolly Parton

Copenhagen, Chris Le Deux (Yep, chew killed this underground country singer with a cult following. His catchy, hilarious love song to Copenhagen chewing tobacco is like a country version of “Can’t Feel My Face” or “Mary Jane.”)

Copperhead Road, Steve Earle (Listen carefully…After coming home from war, this soldier gives up on the family tradition of making moonshine because he realized when he was in Viet Nam that he could just grow weed instead.)

Country Boy Can Survive, Hank Williams Jr.

Country Club, Travis Tritt

Country Roads, Take Me Home, John Denver (Lucky if I get through this one without tearing up…)

Cowboy Take Me Away, Dixie Chicks

Crazy, Patsy Cline (Sadly, the anthem of Battered Woman’s Syndrome…Patsy was in a violent marriage at the height of her fame. Written by Willie Nelson.)

Cripple Creek, Earl Scruggs & Lester Flatt

Devil Went Down to Georgia, Charlie Daniels Band

Digging Up Bones, Randy Travis

Dixieland Delight, Alabama

Down at the Twist & Shout, Mary-Chapin Carpenter

Dueling Banjos, Roy Clark & Buck Owens

El Paso, Marty Robbins (After writing this song, Marty Robbins was flying over El Paso & had a revelation that he was the cowboy in the song in a past life…so he wrote “El Paso City” about that experience.)

Elvira, Oak Ridge Boys

Elvira, Oak Ridge Boys

Every Little Thing, Carlene Carter (Yep, June Carter’s daughter…she called Johnny Cash “Stepdad.” Roseanne Cash’s “Tennessee Flat Top Box” is also a good one.)

Family Tradition, Hank Williams Jr (A proud nod to his famous father…”Put yourself in my position–if I get stoned and sing all night long, it’s a family tradition.” When you hear this song at a honky tonk, know the customs! When Jr sings, “Why do you drink?” The crowd shouts back “To get drunk!” When Jr sings, “Why do you roll smoke?” The crowd shouts, “To get high!” When he sings, “Why must you act out the songs that you wrote?” The crowd shouts, “To get laid!”)

Fancy, Reba McEntire

Fishin’ in the Dark, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Flowers on the Wall, Statler Brothers

Folsom Prison Blues, Johnny Cash

Fool-Hearted Memory, George Strait (His first of SIXTY #1 hits–the most in country music history! Too many for this list but do check them out.)

Get a Rhythm, Johnny Cash

Guitars & Cadillacs, Dwight Yoakum (One of the few west coasters on the list…from Bakersfield, California — also a vegetarian!)

Have Mercy, Judds (A female country duo–mother & sister to famous actress Ashley Judd!)

Highway Man, The Highwaymen (The Highwaymen are Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, & Kris Kristofferson.)

Hillbilly Rock, Marty Stewart

Honky Tonk Man, Dwight Yoakum

Hooked on an 8-Second Ride, Chris Le Deux (Pronounced “Le Doo”)

Hot Rod Lincoln, Commander Cody

I Ain’t Livin’ Long Like This, Waylon Jennings

I Love a Rainy Night, Eddie Rabbitt

I Think I’ll Just Sit Here & Drink, Merle Haggard

I Walk the Line, Johnny Cash

I’m No Stranger to the Rain, Keith Whitley

If You’re Gonna Play in Texas, Alabama

If You’ve Got the Money, Willie Nelson

If Your Heart Ain’t Busy, Tanya Tucker

It Only Hurts When I Cry, Dwight Yoakum

Jackson, Johnny Cash & June Carter

Jolene, Dolly Parton

Jose Cuervo, Shelly West

Kaw-Liga, Hank Williams Jr. (Hank Sr also does this one.)

Lay You Down, Conway Twitty

Long Time Gone, Dixie Chicks

Louisiana Saturday Night, Mel McDaniel

Luckenbach Texas, Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson

Mama Tried, Merle Haggard

Maybe It Was Memphis, Pam Tillis

Meet Me in Montana, Dan Seals

Midnight Girl in a Sunset Town, Sweethearts of the Rodeo

Mountain Music, Alabama

Mud on the Tires, Brad Paisley

Mule Skinner Blues, Dolly Parton

My Kind of Girl, Colin Raye

Next to You, Shenandoah

No Time to Kill, Clint Black

Nobody Wins, Radney Foster

Norma Jean Riley, Diamond Rio

One Piece at a Time, Johnny Cash

Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line, Waylon Jennings

Orange Blossom Special, Johnny Cash

Pancho & Lefty, Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard

Papa Loved Mama, Garth Brooks

Past the Point of Rescue, Hal Ketchum

Pick-Up Man, Joe Diffie

Play Something Country, Brooks & Dunn

Redneck Girl, Bellamy Brothers (During the corresponding Redneck Girl line dance, when the song says, “A redneck girl got her name on the back of her belt,” dancers shout, “Bullshit! Bullshit! F— you!” When the song says, “She’s got a kiss on her lips for her man and no one else,” dancers repeat, “Bullshit! Bullshit! F— you!” When the song says, “A coyote’s howling out on the prairie,” dancers howl. Finally, the song says, “First comes love, then comes marriage.” After “love,” dancers interject, “Then sex!!!”)

Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash

Rockin’ With the Rhythm, Judds

Rodeo, Garth Brooks

Rough & Ready, Trace Adkins

Saturday Night Special, Conway Twitty (Yes, the same guy they famously poke fun at on “Family Guy”–see below)

Sin Wagon, Dixie Chicks

Smoky Mountain Rain, Ronnie Milsap

Sold, John Michael Montgomery

Some Girls Do, Sawyer Brown

Song of the South, Alabama

Stampede, Chris Le Deux

Stand by Your Man, Tammy Wynette

Straight Tequila Night, John Anderson

Streets of Bakersfield, Dwight Yoakum

Sweet Dreams of You, Patsy Cline

Tempted, Marty Stuart

Tennessee River & a Mountain Man, Alabama

Thank God I’m a Country Boy, John Denver (He’s an outspoken vegan and & rep for P.E.T.A #MeatlessMondays)

That Kind of Girl, Patty Loveless

That’s My Story, Collin Raye

That’s What I Like About You, Trisha Yearwood (She’s married to Garth Brooks & is a celebrity chef with a reality cooking show.)

The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

The Pill, Lorettta Lynn (Also check out her cover of Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walking.”)

The Race Is On, Sawyer Brown (or any of the older versions)

The Thunder Rolls, Garth Brooks

Ticks, Brad Paisley

Tight-Fittin’ Jeans, Conway Twitty

Tonight We Ride, Tom Russell (We played this at my dad’s funeral…definitely a “b side.”)

Tougher Than the Rest, Chris Le Deux

Tulsa Time, Don Williams

Two Feet of Topsoil, Brad Paisley

Walkin’ After Midnight, Patsy Cline (Check out the Cyndi Lauper cover!)

What Was I Thinkin,’ Dierks Bentley

When You Say Nothing At All, Keith Whitley (Alison Krauss’ version might be more popular though…)

Whiskey, If You Were a Woman, Highway 101

Why Not Me, Judds

Wide Open Spaces, Dixie Chicks

Will the Circle Be Unbroken, dozens of versions

Wrong Side of Memphis, Trisha Yearwood

You Ain’t Woman Enough, Loretta Lynn

You Really Had Me Going, Holly Dunn

You’ve Never Been This Far Before, Conway Twitty

    There are a few current country artists with that classic country sound: Chris Stapleton, Brothers Osborn, some Miranda Lambert (try “Gunpowder & Lead” or “Little Red Wagon”), or Cody Jinks.

If you’re afraid country music is too white, straight, or conservative for you, check out Little Big Town’s “Girl Crush,” Maddie & Tae’s “Girl in a Country Song,” the Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl,” Los Lonely Boys’ “Heaven,” Kacey Musgraves’ “Follow Your Arrow,” Big & Rich’s “Love Train,” Garth Brooks’ “We Shall Be Free,” John Anderson’s “Seminole Wind,” or anything by Charlie Pride, Cowboy Troy, k.d. lang, or Freddie Fender.

If you enjoy a good DJ mix, I’m not the only one doing creative things with country music–check out DeeJay Silver, DJ Sinister’s Country Fried Mix, VDJ JD, DJ Bad Ash, or DJ Hish (who I was on the roster with at the Stagecoach Festival and the Moonshine Miles Festival).

Film enthusiast? In addition to watching Johnny Cash’s biographical Walk the Line, you can also try some of these country cult classics: Coal Miner’s Daughter (about Loretta Lynn), Urban Cowboy (with John Travolta & Debra Winger), Pure Country (starring George Strait), Sweet Dreams (about Patsy Cline), Eight Seconds (with Luke Perry)…as well as anything starring Dolly Parton (like 9 to 5 or Steel Magnolias) or Kris Kristofferson (like A Star Is Born or Blade). Dwight Yoakum has a few famous cameos as well (like Sling Blade or Crank). But the real question is: are they “acting” or just “acting natural”? Once you understand that reference, you officially get a gold star in the hipster country music Olympics!!! (Leave me your thoughts in the comments below.)

If you enjoyed the Hipster’s Guide to Classic Country Music, I urge you to explore bluegrass and folk music. And, yes, I know not every “staple” classic country jam is on the list (again, comment below). I also have my Guitar-Infused Country & Classic Rock Wedding Cocktail Hour Playlist and Ultimate Bluegrass Wedding Cocktail Hour & Dinner Music Playlist you can scope out. Some say “crank it up,” but, around here, we say “Hank it up!” Enjoy your hip classic country tunes! 

  LISTEN TO THE HIPSTER’S CLASSIC COUNTRY PLAYLIST

Check it out on YouTube or Spotify.

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  GIVE IT TO ME BABY

[uclaradio]

Excerpted Interview With Westside McFly (11/16/18)

Interview occurred on the “No Pulp Radio Show” with DJ Odyssey, Ishaan Pota and Lily Frankel 

This interview has been transcribed edited for concision with some questions edited for clarity by Lily Frankel

DJO: So for those who aren’t familiar with you, who are you, where are you from? 

WM: Yeah, well, I grew up in South Central, man. I’m from Los Angeles, you know what I’m saying. Right there on the east side. Everybody kinda get confused by the name and stuff like that, but you know it’s Westside McFly I’m from the West Coast, but I grew up on the east side, Los Angeles. 

DJO: And what was that experience like, growing up in Los Angeles? 

WM: Man, it was crazy, you know what I’m saying. You know, obviously, the album is out, and the title of it is, “South Central Ain’t 4 Everybody.” I feel like, that experience, growing up in South Central, is really difficult, and I wanted to... kinda let the world know what’s it’s like, and how, you know, it’s kinda hard to make it, where we from. 

DJO: And seeing what you’re saying, it’s so hard to make it, coming out of South Central, what do you think is the most notorious challenge of trying to get out? 

WM: Well I mean, obviously, you know, when you think about South Central, you think about LA, everybody already think about the gangs, the violence, the drugs, the police. You know what I’m saying, when you think about like, NWA, and all, like, fuck the police, you know what I’m saying, like. So growing up, where I grew up, you see that a lot, you know what I’m saying. It was drug dealers, it was gang bangers, it was—I mean, we, you know, we don’ faced it all. We don’ dealt with the police, we done all of the that, you know what I’m saying. So... um, you kinda come from a different cloth when you gotta go through that as a young kid and you see so early, and there’s no way for your parents to kinda like shield you from what’s going on outside, in the world, you know what I’m saying. My granny lived on 81st and Central, the school I went to was off of McKinley and 83rd, that’s like two blocks up! So just walkin from my granny’s house to school, you could either run into somebody that’s gon ask you where you from, you might see a cop roll by, and they, you know, the cops—like, people always kinda confuse that, like, “oh, they gettin harassed by the cop, they gettin beat on by the cops,” it’s not that, like you could just get flashed by some police, and we take that as harassment, you know what I’m saying, cause I’m just mindin’ my business, just walkin up the street, what you got to flash me with your light for? You know what I’m saying. So it’s a lot of things that... I would say, made me who I am today, and... bring the music out.

DJO: Was music always the first option, or did you wanna be something else?

WM: Nah, nah, I would say that was like my first option. I come from a family... you know, basketball players. Actually my cousin is actually Baron Davis. So I come from a basketball family, it was all sports. For me, I was that kid that was like... I had my little composition book and I was writing poems. You know what I’m saying? Like my pops, he lived in Compton, so he lived right off Piru street... I was at his house one day and I was writing like, little poems in my little composition book. And then like the neighbrohood bum, you know, he came through or whatever—think he was asking my dad if he could wash the car or somethin’, and he was askin’ me what I was doin’. And I was like, “what?” And he was like, “man, what you doin?” And tell him, I’m like, “man, I’m writing some poetry, you know what I’m sayin, just workin on my stuff.” He was like, “ahh, let me hear some stuff,” so I spit it and he was like, “man, you sound like you rappin!” And that was kinda like my first, like, “damn, like, it kinda do sound like I’m rappin.” And then I kinda took to it more cause my grandfather was a DJ, my grandmother, she collected like, old school 45 records, and stuff like that, so music kinda just always been there for me, you know what I’m sayin?

DJO: So mentioning how you got a DJ in your family, mentioning that, you know, your grandma had the 45s, like, what were some of the musical influences that you grew up listening to, like what was Grandma spinning, what was the family spinnin? 

WM: Damn. Alright so, back then? I mean you thinkin’ about like the The Temptations, you think about Diane Ross, Minnie Riperton. That’s what she was into. Al Green, Marvin Gaye—Michael Jackson was her ultimate favorite [laughing]. She had every Michael Jackson record you could think of. All the way back from Jackson 5, little Michael, to like, Billy Jean, Bad Michael. Like, she was a huge fan of Mike. My grandfather, being a DJ I guess, his vibe was different, because the club setting is different, people here drinking and smoking, and all of that goin on or whatever, back in that time. So it was a little different, his records had a little bit more upbeat, but, I felt like, every time music came on, it gave you a different experience about life. And a different setting. And it put you in a different place. And for me, I just kinda always wanted to be a part of that world. To be a creator of that, you know what I’m saying? And kinda capture and cement the memories and moments of--of what we don’ went through. 

DJO: Does it piss you off when you hear a younger rapper, or people who pretend to be from “the hood,” to use that—when they haven’t actually seen it.

WM: Yeah, I definitely, it makes me mad, when that happens. Because, you know, that’s not anything to be glamorized, in my opinion. When you really from a place that’s like, it’s trife, you know what I’m saying? And it’s really like, yo, you could really lose you life, livin out here. It’s... it’s kinda difficult when that happens, cause you got people that are kinda like, fakin’ it. And for me, I take it as disrespect, because it’s kinda like a badge of honor to be able to say, “look, I lived in this city, I grew up in this neighborhood, I seen my friend get shot right here, I don seen this happen right here, I don—duh duh duh duh duh.” And for somebody to come along and just kinda fake that, and want to be part of that cause it look cool—it’s like, nah, I’m not wit that, you not gon come make money off of our struggle, you know what I’m saying? I ain’t having that. 

DJO: Especially when you livin’ it day in, day out. 

WM: Day in’ day out! And I still got friends that’s livin in the hood, you know, I still got aunties, I still got cousins, so—it’s not always pretty, but it ain’t always ugly, like don’t get it twisted, the hood ain’t just like a “scary” place. Like if you get a chance? Fo sure, go take a trip down to Watts, go take a trip down to South Central, go see what it’s like. Go breathe in the air. You know what I’m saying? Go see what the people is like, so then you could really understand it. And I feel like people that are infatuated with like, Compton and Watts and South Central, they should go do that. If they really like—you know, if you really wanna know about it, go see about it. That’s what you gon do when you—if it’s a pair of Gucci shoes out that you want, you gon go to the Beverly Center, you gon cop them Gucci shoes, you gon go see how they look, you gon put em on your feet, you gon walk in them. So go do the same thing with the neighborhood, you know what I’m saying? Lily: Do you feel like people have certain misconceptions about South Central, or that area in general? 

WM: Definitely. Because of—I think it started when the riots happened. When the riots happened—there’s certain things about, you know, East LA, that we can’t control. And what the media puts out about East LA, we can’t control it. You know what I’m saying? We don’t have those platforms. And... the last big artist to make it from the east side.. [long pause] I don’t—dang. In my opinion, you’d probably have to say like, NWA, Snoop came from the East side of Long Beach, you know what I’m saying? Like, who can speak on that major platform, Snoop made it to that major platform, where he can kinda give you a different outlook of how the hood is, you know what I’m saying? Is it dangerous? Yes. Is it a whole bunch of, like, just crackheads and crack babies? No. Like, you know what I’m saying? Like, yeah, you gon see a few. But, we didn’t have no money to bring crack there, you know what I’m saying? How did it get there? So you go back to Reaganomics, and you go back—like, everything started back then. And I feel like the perception that the media painted for the city, you know what I’m saying? We cleanin’ it up. The youngers that’s coming out, you got a lot of people that’s coming out... from Watts, from Compton. When you think about Kendrick Lamar—Kendrick Lamar, you know, his grammy performances and everything like that, that’s changing the perception of people, you know what I’m saying? Like of what they think about Compton. Back then it was “fuck the police,” and now you watchin Kendrick, you know, at the Grammys, on stage, and you lookin’ at Compton a whole different way. You know what I’m saying? So... I feel like the perception is definitely changin. 

DJO: So let’s talk about your album, you know, “South Central Ain’t 4 Everybody.” With that title in itself, it’s just like, it seems like you’re just tryna like, “yo, let me set the record straight.” 

WM: Yeah, definitely. Quick story. I was in the studio, man. And I wanna say at the time, the album was maybe like, 75% done, and I was playing records for people, just tryna get reactions and stuff like that, and I had this one particular A&R that was there, I’m not gon name drop. [Laughs.] Yeah, that’s for snitches, I ain’t gon name drop. But, he actually heard the music, man, and he was like, yo, I really think you should do like this type of sound, you know, you should do what’s in right now, what’s hot. You should do that other record that you did. And because I write for people, I have a different—a wide-range, I should say, of records in my catalogue. So at the time, he had probably heard like some trap record that I had wrote for like TV or film, or whatever. And I remember just telling him like, Bro, that ain’t me. That’s not the picture that I’m tryna paint, that’s not South Central, that’s not what I’m about, you know what I mean. And I remember leaving the studio, it was me, my engineer, and my little cousin. My little cousin’s maybe like 15, he go to Crenshaw High. And literally we was having a conversation about it, and I’m like damn, I really can’t understand why people don't understand... you know, where we come from, and why that’s, like, not mainstream enough for them. And I remember my little cousin saying to me “yo, South Central ain’t for erybody, cuzzo.” And, at that time, I was just like, yo [laughs], that’s what I’m naming the album. [...] It was just like, yo. Simple and plain, bro, like, South Central ain’t for everybody. There are certain people that can make it here and certain people that can’t. And this album will give you a piece of that, like, so you can understand it. 

DJO: You said there are some people who can make it and some people who can’t. What are the characteristics of somebody who can make it? 

WM: You gotta be tough. Erybody ain’t gotta be a gangster to make it in South Central but you gotta be tough for sure. You know, you gotta be real. You gotta stay loyal, you gotta ride for your people. You gotta... I mean, you just gotta have like, the ambition and hustle of... a real hustler, like for real. Because ain’t nobody like, gonna give you anything, where we from. We weren’t given anything. You know, to begin with. Like I said, like, watchin’ my momma struggle, she had four kids. She had no handouts. She had no help. You know what I’m saying? She had to work hard. And... watchin the strength of her, put it in me. Like alright, I gotta get up and go get it, especially if pops ain’t around, and—you know what I’m saying? So you kinda go through a lot of different phases as a young man, growing up in South Central, right, where you gotta now—I gotta help my moms, and my sisters, I want them—you know what I’m saying? And especially if you wanna be on some fly shit yo self, and you wanna look fresh and you don’t wanna go to school looking like... you know what I’m saying? You got—kids is mean! [DJO laughs.] Let’s think about it, come on man, the 90s, what? You was gettin clowned if you was comin to school with some busted shoes. But if you had some fresh whites on, you was the man. And you had a nice outfit, you was—you know what I’m saying? Fresh cut, all of that, so—moms couldn’t always afford everything! So sometimes you gotta go get up and go hustle up some stuff with homies and—ay, mom, I just bought my own shoes, like you feel me? She don’t gotta know where it came from. There’s a lot of things we don did that, of course your parents ain’t gon be proud of, you know what I’m saying. But at the same time, you do what you gotta do to survive. Yeah, so I think that survival instinct, it comes. 

DJO: Take me over when you were composing these two songs [“Bitch Please” and “Piece of My Love”], what was going through your mind? Because in listening to “Bitch Please,” and then “Piece of My Love,” they’re on both ends of the spectrum. 

WM: One of them’s far left, the other’s far right. Yeah, definitely. So a lot of people was... disturbed when they first heard “Bitch please,” cause they like, “ahh, you talkin bout women.” I’m like, nah—okay, so to break that down—and I feel like men know what’s up when it comes to this—you got women out there, sometime, that like—not all women are bitches, like you know what I’m sayin, but you have some that you come across where you’re like “man, bitch please,” like you’re feeling yourself a little too much, and there is certain women that are just so into themselves where it’s like yo, you gotta kinda like bring em back down to earth, but besides that, you got women out there that are like just gold-diggers, clout-chasers, like you know what I’m saying? They just want to be around, and be in the scene, or they might wanna talk to you, or get with the homie, and those are the women that I’m talkin to on “Bitch Please,” the trifling ones. There’s a separation between real women that’s out there, doin they job, and really gettin to a bag, and hustlin, and providing for themselves, they not lookin for no man for nothin, so it’s a separation, and that’s what “Piece of My love Is,” for that women that really deserve that, because not every woman, you know what I’m saying, really deserve that from you. There’s certain women out there that you gonna throw ones at, it’s certain women out there that you gonna go buy, you know, a gucci bag, or a ring, you feel me? It’s different types of women in the world, so. That’s just me bein real. 

L: So you’ve written songs for other people, and you write your own music. What is the difference for you in that process, between when you’re writing a song for somebody else, verses when you’re focusing on your own music, do you feel like there’s a difference? 

WM: Yeah definitely, cause... when I’m writing for other people, I have to really put myself in that place, where they are in their life. And, I can’t always just be like yo, who is this person, what have they gone through, and write about that. It’s gotta be like, what could they possibly be going through right now, what’s next for them, you know what I’m saying? Sometimes you can go off past experiences but you just gotta put yourself in their shoes, for a second. And I feel like as a creator and somebody that’s a fan of music, that’s pretty easy to do. And I feel like most artists—if you’re a true artist, you can do that. You know what I’m saying? I’m not afraid to say I’m a fan of certain artists, you feel me? So to be able to step outside of who I am as a person, and as a creator, as an artist, and be like, well, let me put myself in this person’s shoes real quick and write a record, what would it sound like. You know what I’m saying, to me that’s fun... and it’s challenging at the same time. But it’s something that I’ve grown to learn—the whole like songwriting process, being a songwriter, it’s just something that I’ve learned, for sure, and I’m still learning! You know what I’m saying? I don’t even feel like—if you think about Quincy Jones, you think about a lot of like great musicians in the industry, right, they kept learning, they whole career, they just kept learning, kept learning, kept learning, so every day is a part of the process. 

Ishaan: So when you go to the studio, what’s your process? Do you go in with ideas? 

WM: Yeah, my process is kinda weird, I always feel like in order for me to create records, I have to live, right? So like, “South Central Ain’t 4 Everybody” was like a two year... two and a half year project. I put a lot of time into that project, you know what I’m saying? Like, you have a lot of different artists now that will just sit in they room for like ten days and be like “yo I got a mixtape and it’s the hottest shit out.” That’s not gonna be the case, cause you ain’t experience shit in that ten days, bro. You sat in that room by yourself, like, either smokin, or drinking, or eatin hot cheetos, whatever the fuck you was doin [studio laughs], and you just felt like—you imagined life instead of really experiencing it, like you know what I’m saying? So for me like, I felt like I have to go through shit in order to be able to go into the studio and talk about shit, so you gotta be livin like, every day, like you know what I’m saying? I gotta be able to talk about what I see my moms go through, sometimes you gotta get back to that. You know what I’m saying? And sometimes it be reality, like yo I just hung up with mom, she sick, yada yada yada, and now, you know what I’m saying, this is where I’m at mentality, it’s taking me back to when I was a kid, and now I’m writing this type of record. You know, or, it’s just one of them nights, where it’s like, yo, this chick, she trippin, she—she just worried about what Ima buy her and where Ima take her, and duh duh duh duh duh, and then you get records like “Bitch Please” and then like—you know what I’m saying? It’s all different types of moods and vibes, like lit, like I’m know, notoriously known, the come-up boys, we known, for like throwin parties like, house parties. [...] We also do a charity thing with the come-up boys, our movement, so this year we’re gon do a blanket give-back. Over the summer we did a food, hygiene, uh, care packs, and water, and soda. Um... so this December I think we���ll do food again, um, but instead of the hygiene pack—over the Summer we did like toothbrush, toothpaste, lotion, wipes, socks—this time we’re gonna do blankets and jackets. That’s the plan for the Winter. [...] It’s so crazy, the—it’s an ongoing problem, obviously, we have a lot of homeless out here, in Los Angeles. And I remember growing up, I went to high school, Hamilton, bro. And I remember one day I was driving up—I want to say I was driving up either Broadway or Main—and I seen somebody I went to school with, and bro was doing bad, man. Like bad bad. And I’m like, “yo, this is somebody I actually went to high school with.” So you kinda see yourself in that, cause it’s like, yo, this can easily be you, and we don’t know what happened in his life, you know what I’m saying, but obviously he need help, and, you know, I pulled over, I helped. There’s been times, you can ask my people, there’s been times I done gave shoes away, you know what I’m saying, if I got shoes in my cars, then forget it, if I got shoes in my trunk, forget it, you can have it. Shirts, money, all that, bro. Cause we gon get it back tenfolds over, you know what I’m saying. But you don’t know what that can do, just to help somebody else. [...] And that’s really important with our squad, because we know where we come from, so we know how hard it is to get it, we know how hard it is to lose it, and we always want to give back to those who don’t. L: So, it seems like with your music, the overall goal or theme is trying to convey what you were talking about earlier, like this is where you’re from and trying to portray it in an accurate way, would you say that’s your goal with making music? 

WM: Yeah. And just speaking for the streets and the people that had to come from the streets, you know what I’m saying? And from, with a different perspective, cause like obviously, when you think about the gangs and stuff like that, everybody—you ain’t gotta grow up and be from somewhere, or be a gang-banger, to speak for the streets, you know what I’m saying? You ain’t gotta sell drugs to speak for the streets. Now mind you, there’s—like I said, again, there’s things in my life, that, you know, you don did, that your moms and pops may not be proud of, but you do what you had to do to survive, right, but at the same time, I just wanna be that beacon for the next kid, to be like, “yo, you can do it like me, and you can make it.” You know what I’m saying? You ain’t gotta succumb to what your homies want you to be, you ain’t gotta succumb to what the world think you should be, or think—who you are, you know, like sometimes the world may already have they mind made up about who you are. You could change that person’s perception, like you could change the perception of the world, you know what I’m saying, so I just wanna be that beacon that provides that message, through my music. [...] I mean like, just with the company itself, we do everything, like we got a catering service, you know what I’m saying? We have a, obviously, it was clothing line, originally. It was the record label and our clothing line, originally. And I wanna say after the first two years we expanded, we had a catering service. After that we started doing our charity give-back. And there’s gonna be more expansions, like we want to get into tech stuff, you know what I’m saying? That’s stuff that we into. Just cause we grew up in the hood don’t mean that we’re not entrepreneurs, we’re not smart, you know what I’m saying, like we don’t have, you know, any kind of vision behind our brand, you know what I’m saying? But we have these people like myself, like Q, my boy Jamil, my boy Trill, my boy Jax, we’re all like, you know, the main people pushing this brand. And even those up under us, you know—it’s so many come-up boys, it’s like 20 of us, to be honest with you. We gotta whole gang, for real, it looks like a gang. We move like a gang, look like a gang, but we ain’t a gang, you know what I’m saying? [studio and DJO laughing] It’s crazy. 

DJO: I feel like it’s really important that your neighborhood see somebody like you that made it out, see somebody succeeding, see somebody who’s contributing and giving back. 

WM: Talk that talk. I wasn’t destined to be here, bro. When I was born, I was born with sickle cell, right? So the doctors told my mom I’m supposed to die at the age of 10. So I’m already up against that, right? But then you grew up in the hood, you grew up poor, then you had to deal with the gangs, then you had to deal with the drugs, then you had to deal with the cops, then—you know what I’m saying? So you already up against everything, not to mention being black in America—it’s difficult. [Agreement from the studio.] You know what I’m saying? Like let’s just be honest. So when you look at that, and you be like, yo, this kid made it from here, and this is the success he attained over this amount of time, by putting in this work, staying true to who he was, staying true to his people and his friends that was around him, listening, learning, taking in everything, and then creatively puttin it out to the world to be like yo, this is what I’m about, you feel me? 

DJO: Do you ever feel like, you know, because you’ve overcome so much adversity and so many obstacles in your life, like, you ever walk around with a chip on your shoulder? Or you always keep it humble. WM: It’s kind of like, you know how like, one side is the angel, one side is the devil? [Laughter in the studio.] I have the chip over here [gestures to left shoulder], but then I’m humble as fuck over here [gestures to other shoulder]. And sometimes it’s difficult cause you don’t know which one to listen to. You know what I’m saying, like is it stay humble, or is it walk around with that chip? But I feel like, when you grow in the hood, you already kinda got a chip on your shoulder, to prove that you’re more than what they’ve told people the people that come from the hood is about. You know what I’m saying? Like I said, going back to that perception that’s put out there by the media, you know what I’m saying? The way they talk about the hood is not always... proper. And so that perception, that people think about us, we already kinda have that chip on our shoulder, where we gotta prove people wrong,, you feel me? I think that’s always gonna be a part of who I am as a person and as an artist. You gon hear it in my music, you gon see it when I’m walking, you gon see it when I’m having a conversation with whoever, and then also being humble about where I come from, and about what I had to go through, and the successes that I attained. I’m still gon be humble about it cause I understand like yo, it could be here today, it could be gon tomorrow. 

DJO: And what would you say—you know, respecting the process—what was the hardest part in your process? 

WM: I think gettin out of my own way sometimes. Cause I’m a perfectionist. And I think the hardest part about my own process—like me and the homies, we don got into many arguments, about when to pick the music out, and what songs to put out, what videos to shoot, I don got in a lot of arguments with these dudes. But they brothers for life, you feel me? But sometimes I be in my own way, and I be like, overthinking. But that goes back to having that chip on my shoulder, I wanna prove people wrong. So I just got this burning ambition to be like yo, I gotta do it right, it gotta look good, it gotta duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, we can’t take no Ls, you know what I’m saying? Even though like, all Ls are lessons, but [laughs] like nah, for real, Ls is lessons, but you know for me, it’s like nah, we ain’t got time for that. We puttin points on the board. We gotta move correctly, you know what I’m saying? We gotta move proper, strategically, so I’m real big on that, and I’m the type of person, people can’t tell me no. You know what I’m saying? “Ah nah, we can’t do that! That’s impossible!” I can’t be around a motherfucker that’s like that. You know what I’m saying? Like, you... I’m not gon let anybody tell me that something can’t be done. Cause we gon figure it out, you know what I’m saying? And that’s just what it is. 

DJO: So what would you say is one of those biggest dreams? Do you ever see yourself falling back from rap and being like, “I’m gonna make a label now”? I mean, we gon do way more than just a record label, like we already own our own record label, shoutout to Empire, we were able to get independent distribution through them, and own our own record label, we can sign artists, we have artists, you know what I’m saying, we’re looking for artists, um... but, even beyond that, we gon do films, you know what I’m saying? We gon get into the fashion business even heavier, you gon catch us at New York Fashion Week, you gon catch us at Complex Con, and you know, all these different places, like Come-Up Boys, the brand in itself, is gonna be way bigger than just music, that’s just our starting point, you know what I’m saying? [...] One of my favorite Jay lines, I would have to say, was when he was like: “If skills sold / Truth be told / I'd probably be / Lyrically / Talib Kweli / Truthfully I wanna rhyme like Common Sense / But I made 5 mil, I ain't been rhyming like Common since.” So to me, that right there was like yo, he lettin you know, lyrically I could be Talib Kweli, bro. Who was like one of the greatest, like come on! “Truthfully I wanna rhyme like Common, but I made 5 mil, I ain't been rhyming like Common since,” like that shit is crazy, bro. You know what I’m saying? It lets you know what he about, it lets you know the intelligence of who he can be, and who he wants to be, and him understanding that. Most people don’t get that, you know what I’m saying? They know who they want to be, you know what I’m saying? They don’t know who they can be, though. They thinking too small. So you gotta know who you are, in a sense. At the same time, when you moving in this game, no matter what you doing, I don’t care if you a radio DJ, I don’t care if you a English major, a tech student [L and I laugh], whatever, you gotta know who the fuck you wanna be, and know who you are. And know what it’s gon take to get there. Like you know what I’m saying? That’s just that. DJO: Especially like going to college here, you know some people feel like, they feel boxed in by their major, like they can only do one thing. WM: Ay, none of them people that’s running this school man, they didn’t call you and say ay, you can only have one major, or you can only do this. Look... here’s the pamphlet, here’s the book, you figure out who you wanna be. That’s what college is about, right? Okay so you gotta get out there, and you gotta try stuff, you know what I’m saying? You ain’t gon get it on the first go around. The first year you might have one major, second year you gotta switch to another major, whatever, you ain’t gon get it on the first go around! Don’t be afraid to fail, man! Michael Jordan said that, you know what I’m saying? And he got six rings! [Laughter in the studio.] This man is making billions off tennis shoes, and he just keep puttin out the same ones! [More laughter.] And I got a pair of em on, right now! 

DJO: But I really think that’s the thing, like, everyone is so afraid of failure. Like, and I feel it’s like, not everyone, but like a majority, some people just afraid like “hey I failed I am gonna be discouraged I’m never gonna dip back into that again.” 

WM: Check it, if you afraid to fail, you might as well give up on life. I don’t care what it is! You gotta be willing to fail. Every L is a lesson. It’s not a loss, it’s a lesson. Only thing you lose is time. And you can’t get it back, right? But that lesson gon make up for the time that you lost. Because eventually you gon have to learn what not to do, in order to know what to do! 

I: What’s been your biggest L, and lesson? 

WM: My biggest lesson. I’m gonna think. Hold on. Cause I’m gonna give you a good one. My biggest lesson... would probably have to be trust yourself. Cause some people, they don’t do that, and they start listening—like everybody gon have an opinion, right? If you in the studio, and it’s like ten people in the studio. Or it’s five people in the studio. Everybody in that room is gonna have an opinion about the record. Sometimes you have to be able to listen to others, and take parts of what they saying, and apply, and sometimes, some people gon say stuff that, just, nah. And you gotta trust yourself in the moments, you get what I’m saying? So it’s about knowing that. I wanna say that’s probably my biggest lesson. And it was a L! There’s been times where I did not trust myself and I listened to other people, and that shit got me in trouble! You know what I’m saying? I don lost money behind that [laughs], for real, I don lost money behind that, I don got in trouble behind that. So trust in myself, man.

Listen to the full interview here and give “South Central Ain’t 4 Everybody” a listen on Spotify now! Also make sure to check out the new video for "Bitch Please"!

[stretchearsnotvaginas]

There are 329 records in my collection as of January 9, 2019. This list includes Alternative Rock, Christmas, Classical, Comedy, Country, Dance, Folk, German, Hip  Hop, Jazz, Kids, Metal, Outlaw Country, Pop, Rock, Rockabilly, and Soundtrack.

To organize and keep track of all of these, I use an app on my iPad called MusicBuddy and it catalogs and organizes all of my records for me. So when I get more records, I’m going to continue to add to this blog. This collection is a conglomeration of records given to me by my mom, grandparents, friends, and records I’ve found at local thrift stores.

They’re organized first by genre, then by artist. If you see any that are in the wrong category, feel free to message me so I can fix it. Like I said, my app placed them into the genre Discogs placed them into.

KEY: Artist – Album Name 1, Album Name 2, Album Name 3, etc..

All records that are underlined are the ones that are photographed.

Alternative Rock: 7 records

Dance Gavin Dance – Artificial Selection, Instant Gratification (signed), Mothership, Summertime Gladness/Pussy Vultures (7″)

David Lee Roth – Just Like Paradise

Jefferson Airplane – The Worst of Jefferson Airplane

Pink Floyd – A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Christmas: 15 records

Andy Williams – Merry Christmas

Charles M. Shulz – A Charlie Brown Christmas

Elvis Presley – Elvis Sings the Wonderful World of Christmas, Christmas Album

Floyd  Robinson – Charlie the Hamster Plays Christmas Songs With Floyd…

Jim Nabors – Jim Nabors’ Christmas Album

John Denver – A Christmas Together, Rocky Mountain Christmas

Johnny Cash – The Christmas Spirit

Luciano Pavarotti – O Holy Night

Richard P. Condie – Christmas Carols Around the World

Tennessee Ernie Ford – O Come All  Ye Faithful, Sing We Now of Christmas

Classical/Easy Listening: 17 records

101 Strings – Henry Mancini, John Denver

2Cellos – Score

Arthur Fiedler – Arthur Fiedler Superstar

Boston Symphonic Orchestra – Appalachian Spring/The Tender Land – Suite

Clarinet Kings – The Best Polka

Copperas Cove Bands – The Proud New Generation Band ’74

Engelbert Humperdinck – King of Hearts

Ferrante & Teicher – Moonlight Melodies

Heintje – “Mama”

Hollyridge Strings – The Beatles Songbook

Jean-Pierre Rampal – Fascinatin’ Rampal

Mannheim Steamroller – Saving the Wildlife

Richard Clayderman – Love Songs of the World

Royal Philharmonic Orchestra – Hooked on Classics

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Die Zauberflaute, The Magic Flute (box set)

Comedy: 8 records

All in the Family Cast – All in the Family

Bill Cosby – 200 mph, Bill Cosby, Bill Cosby ‘Live’ Madison Square Garden, For Adults Only, When I Was a Kid, Wonderfulness

Various – The Watergate Comedy Hour

Country: 40 records

Alabama – Just Us, Mountain Music

Barbara Fairchild – Kid Stuff

Barbara Mandrell – He Set My  Life to Music, Love is Fair, Meant for Each Other

Buck Owens and His Buckaroos – The Kansas City Song

Charley Pride – The Best of Charley Pride, The Best of Charley Pride Vol. III, From Me to You, Pride of Country  Music

Conway Twitty – By Heart, I Love You More Today

Don Francisco – Forgiven, Got to Tell Somebody, Holiness, Traveler

Don Williams – Cafe Carolina, Greatest Hits

Freddie Hart and The Heartbeats – The Pleasure’s Been All Mine

Glen Campbell – Galveston, Glen Campbell’s Greatest Hits

Jean Shepard – A Real Good Woman

Kendalls – The Best of the Kendalls

Kenny Rogers – The Gambler

Loretta Lynn – Coal Miner’s Daughter, Entertainer of the Year – Loretta, Here I Am Again..,  Just a Woman, You’re Lookin’ At Country

Moe Bandy – Rodeo Romeo

Skeeter Davis – A Place in the Country

Sonny James – The Sensational Sonny James

Statler Brother – Bed of Roses

T.G. Sheppard – Perfect Stranger

Tammy Wynette – The First Lady, Just Tammy, Tammy’s Greatest Hits

Various – America’s Greatest Country Stars Live and In Person, Country Girls

Dance/Electronic: 4 records

Crystal Fighters – Cave Rave

Devo – Oh, No! It’s Devo,  Q: Are We Not  Men? A: We Are Devo!

M|A|R|R|S – Pump Up the Volume (7″)

Folk: 29 records

Albert  Hammond – The Free Electric Band

Andy Williams – Andy Williams’ Greatest Hits, Moon River and Other Great Movie Themes

Cat Stevens – Foreigner, The Very Best of Cat Stevens

Dale Evans – Heart of the Country

Jim Nabors – Everything is Beautiful

John Denver – John Denver’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2, Poems Prayers & Promises

Johnny Cash – America: A 200 Year Salute in Story and Song, Any Old Wind That Blows, At Folsom Prison, Believe in Him, The Gospel Road: A Story of Jesus, Heroes, I Walk the Line, Johnny Cash at San Quentin, Johnny Cash’s Greatest Hits Vol. 1, Look At Them Beans, Ragged Old Flag, Starportrait

Johnny Cash & June  Carter Cash – Carryin’ On With, Johnny Cash and His Woman

Johnny Horton – Johnny Horton’s Greatest Hits

Marty Robbins – Greatest Hits Vol. IV

Peter, Paul & Mary – Album 1700, The Best Of…

Simon & Garfunkel – Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme

Various – Zenith Presents Hootenanny Special

German: 20 records

Extrablatt – Vico Ganz Neu!

Flotte Franz Und Seine Bierbrummer – Ja Das Haben Di Madchen So Gerne

Gaudeamus Igitur – Romantic Old Heidelberg

Hoffbrau Singers – Ein  Prosit! A Toast!

Ivan Rebroff – Kosaken Mussen Reiten

Johannes Heesters – Da, Geh’ich Ins Maxim

Lucie Baierl – Wine, Women and Schrammeln

Paul Horbiger – Servuswein

Peter Alexander – The Golden Album of Peter  Alexander, Peter Alexander Prasentiert Walt Disney’s Welt

Robert  Stolz – Ein Shoner Herbst

Serge Jaroff – The Best of Serge Jaroff and His  Don Cossacks

Various – A Echte Gaudi, Ein Heurigenabend Bei Toni Karas, Music of the Austrian Alps, Musical Memories of Germany Vol. 2 “Auf Zum Oktoberfest”, Schenkt Man Sich Rosen In Tirol

Wiener Schrammelguartett –  Erinnerung An Wein

Winer Terzett – Tanze Aus Dem Alten Wein

Hip Hop: 6 records

Boogie Boys – City Life

LL Cool J – Radio

New Kids On The Block – Hangin’  Tough, Hangin’ Tough (Calendar Pack 7″)

Snap! – The Power

Various – Electric Breakdance

Jazz: 12 records

Dean Martin – Dean Martin Hits Again, Gentle On My Mind, This is Dean Martin!

Frank Sinatra – I’m Glad There Is You/You Can Take My Word for It Baby (7″), Strangers in the Night, Ultimate Sinatra

Jack La Forge – Unchain My Heart

John Tropea – Short Trip to Space

Paul Winter – Common Ground 

Various – Happiness Is (Box  Set), Kings of Swing

Winter Consort – Road

Kids: 20 records

Al Smith – Happytime Songs for Children

Candle – The Music Machine

Carole and  Jimmy Owens – Ants’hillvania

Children’s Television Workshop – Songs From Sesame Street 2

Disney Choir – It’s A Small World

Disney – Walt Disney Presents Mickey Mouse and His Friends

Ethel Barrett – Children’s Stories: The Mysterious White  Envelope

Marcy Tigner – Sings Nursery Rhymes, Wear a Smile

Nancy  F.A. Woolnough – The Adventures of Raindrop #3

Peter Pan – Popeye the Sailor Man 4 Exciting Stories

Richard Wolfe Children’s Songs – A Raggedy Ann Songbook

Sesame Street – Sesame Street Gold! The Best of Sesame Street, Sleepytime Bird, The Year of Roosevelt Franklin: Gordon’s Friend

Sharron Lucky – Follow the Clouds

Singspiration Trio – Songs for Children No. 2

Strawberry  Shortcake – Strawberry Shortcake and  Her Friends (photo disc)

Susie and Johnny – Sings Stories by Susie and Johnny and Their Singing Pals

Thomas Moore – Sleepy Time

Metal: 10 records

Bloodrock – Live

Jethro Tull – A Passion Play 

Metallica – The Good The Bad & The Live: The 6 1/2 Year Anniversary Collection,  Harvester of Sorrow, Jump in the Fire, Kill ‘Em All

Motley Crue – Girls, Girls, Girls

Slayer – Hell Awaits

Twisted Sister – Love is for Suckers, Under the Blade

Outlaw Country

Johnny Rodriguez – Foolin’ With Fire

Kris Kristofferson – Border Lord, Me and Bobby McGee, The Silver-Tongued Devil and  I

Kris Kristofferson & Rita Coolidge – Full Moon

Merle Haggard – Amber Waves of Grain, The Best Of The Best Of Merle Haggard, It’s All in the Movies, Same Train Different Time

Tanya Tucker – What’s Your Mama’s Name

Waylon Jennings – Wanted! The Outlaws

Willie Nelson – Willie  Nelson’s Greatest Hits

Willie Nelson & Family – Honeysuckle Rose

Pop: 38 records

Connie Francis – The Very Best of Connie Francis

Cyndi Lauper – True Colors

Debby Boone – Surrender

Eurythmics – Greatest Hits

Gene Pitney – The Many Sides of Gene Pitney

Go-Go’s – Beauty and The Beat

Halsey – Badlands

Helen Reddy – Long Hard Climb

Johnny Mathis – Close to You, More Johnny’s Greatest Hits

Maureen McGovern – The Morning After

Michael Jackson – Thriller

Neighborhood – I Love You.

Neil Diamond – Classics The Early Years, Gold, Hot August Night, Tap Root Manuscript

Oh Wonder – Ultralife

Olivia Newton-John – Olivia’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2, Physical

Panic! At The Disco – Death of a Bachelor, Pray for the Wicked

Paul Anka – 21 Greatest Hits

R.B. Greaves – R.B. Greaves

Ready for the World – Oh Sheila

Rick Springfield – Working Class Dog

Righteous Brothers – Back to Back

Sonny & Cher – All I Ever Need Is You

Sylvan Esso – Sylvan Esso

Toni Basil – Word of Mouth

Various – 24 Groovy Greats, From Broadway to Hollywood, Love is Blue (box set), Super Stars – Super Hits, They Come to America, Zenith Presents The Hit Makers

Wayne Newton – Summer Wind

Wham! – Make it Big

Rock: 54 records

4 Skins – A Few 4 Skins More Vol 2

AC/DC – Fly On the Wall

Adolescents – Brats in Batallion

Alice Cooper – Alice Cooper’s Greatest Hits

Animals – The Best of the Animals

Bad Religion – Against the Grain

Bauhaus – Mask

Beastie Boys – Licensed to Ill

Beatles – 1962-1966, Introducing… the Beatles

Billy Joel – An Innocent Man

Blood, Sweat, and Tears – Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Boatz – Boatz

Bob Seger – The Distance

Bobby Darin – It’s You Or No One

Camel – Breathless

Chuck Berry – Chuck Berry’s Greatest Hits

Circle Jerks – Group Sex

Cliff Richard – Two a Penny

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Deja Vu

Cure –  Boys Don’t Cry, Japanese Whispers

Dad  Punchers – These Times Weren’t Made for You

Everly Brothers – Everly Brothers’ Original Greatest Hits, The Golden Hits of the Everly Brothers, Very Best of the Everly Brothers

Fleetwood Mac – Fleetwood Mac, Greatest Hits, Rumours, Tango In The Night, Tusk

Free Beer – Highway  Robbery

Grateful Dead – Touch of Grey (7″)

Green Day – Dookie

Hard-Ons – Dickcheese, The Worst Of…

J Geils Band – Freeze-Frame

Jerry Lee Lewis – By Request: More of the Greatest Live Show On Earth

Jesse Colin Young – Love On The Wing

Journey – Escape

Kenny Loggins – Nightwatch

Kenny Loggins & Messina – The Best of Friends, Native Sons

Lee Michaels – 5th

Mike & The Mechanics – Mike + The Mechanics

Pat Benatar – Crimes of Passion, Get Nervous, Heartbreaker, Live From Earth

Stevie Nicks – Bella  Donna, Rock a Little

Tom Jones – Live in Las Vegas, This Is Tom Jones, The Tom Jones Fever Zone, Tom Jones Live! At The Talk Of The Town

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Rockabilly: 12 records

Elvis Presley – Almost in Love, Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite, Elvis Now, Elvis’ Golden Records, G.I. Blues, How Great Thou Art, Let’s Be Friends, Pure Gold, Rock ‘N’ Roll, Welcome to My World, Worldwide Gold Award Hits

Ricky Nelson – Legendary Masters Series

Soundtrack: 24 records

Burt Bacharach – Lost Horizon

Dory Previn – Valley of the Dolls

Isaac Hayes – Shaft

Jack L. Warner – 1776

Leonard Bernstein –  West Side Story

Mary Martin –  Mary Martin Sings The Sound of Music

Mr. Pickwick – Mr. Pickwick Sings Songs from Mary Poppins

Neil Diamond –  Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky –  Suite from “The Nutcracker”

Ray Parker Jr. – Ghostbusters

Rossini – The Barber of Seville (box set)

Simon & Garfunkel – The Graduate

Unknown – HearSeeDo: Hanna-Barbera Record of Safety, Superman

Various – 2001 A Space Odyssey, 50 Happy Years of Disney Favorites (1923-1973), Fantasia, The Fox and the Hound, Grease, Song of Norway, That’s Entertainment: Musical Highlights from Camelot! Sounds of Music! etc., Top Gun, Urban Cowboy

Vince Guaraldi – Selections from the Soundtrack ” A Boy  Named Charlie  Brown”

Record Collection There are 329 records in my collection as of January 9, 2019. This list includes Alternative Rock, Christmas, Classical, Comedy, Country, Dance, Folk, German, Hip  Hop, Jazz, Kids, Metal, Outlaw Country, Pop, Rock, Rockabilly, and Soundtrack.

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I often get the question, what was Mose like at home? My answer to that is, the man you see performing and the man you hear singing those lyrics, that is the man he is was at home.

My dad had no hobbies, did not golf, did not play tennis and did not spend money on a single hobby that I can recall. He spent his time listening to music of all sorts, the stranger the better. He did some yoga stretching in the morning and some Tai Chi that sometimes embarrassed us kids when we had company over. He liked to run at the track in his younger days, then switched to swimming and actually had a schedule of high and low tides for the Long Island Sound; the beach was just a couple miles from home.

Other than that, in his free time, he liked to cook and read books – many books. He made lists of “to read” books on small pieces of paper. Mose read esoteric type books with content about the cosmos, the human brain, books with titles like, “The Fabric of Reality,” “A Field Guide to the Invisible” and “The Nature of the Universe.” And yes, he did play the piano at home, but he only played repetitive hypnotic runs to keep his mind sharp and his fingers limber.

Mose was one of the least material persons I have ever known. He was not one to ever be seen shopping with the exception of grocery shopping. His entire wardrobe took up five feet of space in his closet, most clothing purchases being made by my mom. He called me long distance one time to tell me his luggage was missing and in his luggage contained his only belt. He described the belt to me in detail, hoping I could assist him in finding an exact replacement. I also recall the time my mom replaced our 20-year-old couch with a new one. My dad’s space in the den was at one end of this old couch. The new couch was placed in the den, and the old couch was placed in our foyer by the door awaiting a ride to the local thrift store. When I walked in the door, Dad was sitting on the old couch at his usual space reading his book. Mose eventually warmed to the new couch.

My dad never had much of a record collection. I started buying records when I was 9 years old. I could play a song over 40 times and each time feel a sense of elation. Dad was different, he listened to a song once and it made a connection in his brain, like a mathematical equation, and that was all he needed – that one time. That, to me, is very strange. To this day, I have many favorite songs I still play over and over. With Dad, one listen was all it took.

About receiving awards, I know Mose always has appreciated praise but never let it get to his head. He did not believe in the show off, “look at me,” “I’m great,” attitudes that run so prevalent through the entertainment world. I was with him in Sedona, Arizona when he received a beautiful Lifetime Achievement Award. He smiled and thanked those responsible then handed the award to me and said, “I am not carrying that on the plane.” When I asked him why he did not want to go to the Grammy Awards after he was nominated, he replied, “I don’t believe in renting shoes.” In reality, he may have already been booked at a small club in Des Moines, Ohio, and Mose, after 65 years of what he called, “On the Job Training,” never missed a single gig.

Mose preferred the setting and intimacy of a jazz club, and that is where he really earned a living. The record companies all tried to cash in and make Mose a commercial success. Mose wanted nothing to do with backup girl singers and A&R men arrangements. He wanted to sing his songs his way at the places he liked best. Atlantic tried to get him to Muscle Shoals, Mose declined. Burger King offered him a huge payday for one day’s work. He told me, “I ain’t singing about no hamburger.” Mom was not happy.

I knew a club owner and promoter that told me, “After 35 years of promoting shows, Mose was the only performer to ever to give me money back.” The promoter had paid Mose but lost money on the show. Dad gave him some money back. Why? Because Mose was also interested in keeping his club going so he could keep coming back to play.

In 1989, I accepted a Mississippi Musicians Hall of Fame award on his behalf. Mose had a gig somewhere else that date, so Dad wrote a little something for me to read to the crowd after accepting his award. It read:

There are very few places in the world where a person could have heard as many different kinds of music as I was able to hear growing up in Tippo, Mississippi. Also, the aphorisms, the ironies, the speech patterns with their exaggerations and understatements have served me well and are still a part of my dialogues with myself.

If it takes a village to raise a child, then I was certainly raised by Tippo, Mississippi.

Ten years before Elvis got to Beale Street, Mose had already been there. Getting Zoot suites made for him and performing on keyboards with the BB King Orchestra at Mitchell’s Hotel, a black only club on Beale Street in 1947. Dad told me years ago that he first heard Rock’ n Roll on Beale Street in 1942 from the band Tuff Green and the Rockettes. Mose also remembered hearing a matinee solo performance at the Orpheum Theater by Harmonic legend Sonny Boy Williamson that made a huge impression on him.

Mose was in New York City in 1956 playing piano with the giants of jazz, Jerry Mulligan, Al Cohn, Zoot Simms, Stan Getz and others. After a short time, Mose presented a cassette tape to Prestige Records. The executives at Prestige loved what they heard and immediately had Mose in the studio recording. What Mose gave them was a suite of sketches, songs, evoking the atmosphere of his hometown – Tippo, Mississippi. Mose called it his Cotton Country Suite. The record company renamed it Back Country Suite. Songs from that era included: “Parchman Farm,” “Blues,” “One Room Country Shack,” “Highway 49,” “The Hills,” “Mojo Woman,” “Devil in the Cane Field” and “Creek Bank.”

From that first record, Mose was receiving critical acclaim from audiences and critics alike. Mose went on to record two more albums that same year. It was 1957. Today there are over 50 albums to choose from. My dad wrote over 220 songs. Most folks know four or five. My advice: listen to more Mose!

One of my favorites from Grammy Nominated Album on Blue Note Records, Ever Since The World Ended, is titled “Top Forty.” This song to me represents the way my dad looked at the business of the recording industry.

Top Forty By Mose Allison

When I make my Top 40 Smash hit Rock ‘n’ roll record Everything is gonna be just fine When I make my Top 40 Smash hit Rock ‘n’ roll disc I’ll be the record company’s valentine No more philosophic melancholia Eight hundred pounds of electric genitalia When I make my Top 40 Smash hit Rock ‘n’ roll record Everything’s gonna be just fine When I make my fuzz tone Wah-wah Synthesized record Everything is gonna be just grand When I make my fuzz tone Wah-wah Synthesized disc I’ll have to get myself a moving van Costume, hairdo, made up cute A personal connection in a business suit When I make my fuzz tone Wah-wah Synthesized record Everything is gonna be just grand When I make my dynamite Heavy soul Freaked out record Everything is gonna be just swell When I make my dynamite Heavy soul Freaked out disc I’ll be living it up pell mell Mountain top hide away Three-car garage Out there hustlin’ that sonic massage When I make my Top 40 Big beat Heavy soul Freaked out Solid gold Synthesized Rock ‘n’ roll record Everything is gonna be just fine

When my dad passed, he was comfortable and with family. We each got to kiss him, tell him we love him and that it was okay to let go, go home. So he did. No one gets out alive. Dad was 89 and his was a life well lived. I only feel very fortunate and grateful to have had such a cool dad. I get to ride the turnrows of Mississippi and listen to Mose and I can do that till the day I “go home.”

Finally, a reporter once asked Dad, “You were socially relevant before Dylan, satirical before Newman and rude before Jagger. How come you are not a big star?” Dad simply and honestly replied, “Just lucky I guess.”

WAS by Mose Allison

When I become was and we become were Will there be any sign or a trace of the lovely contour of your face And will there be someone around With essentially my kinda sound When am turns to was and now is back when Will someone have moments like this Moments of unspoken bliss And will there be heroes and saints Or just a dark new age of complaints When I become was and we become were Will there be any Susans and Ralphs Lookin’ at old photographs And wondering aloud to a friend What was it like to be then

By John Allison

For questions, comments, or if you would like to contribute your own Reflections story, send it (along with photos) to hottytoddynews@gmail.com.

The post Reflections: A Few Words About My Dad, Mose Allison appeared first on HottyToddy.com.