#+ it’s got AM FM and short wave (doesn’t know what short wave is)

[skhardwarevers1]

ohonsosskwnwjOHAODHWJ I GOT A CASSETTE PLAYER I FORGTOT TO MENTIONNNNNNN AAHAHHAHAHAB :D (<- all his old cassette players either don’t work or have white noise with the music all the time)

[gldie]

✰ ⊰ GOLDIE: ❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐏.

A year after her departure from KPWR-FM, 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄 has scored a career as being a television host for BET. In this interview, 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 took the time to drive right on down to Westchester to ask her all the questions that people want to know about her rise to fame and how she’s juggling it along with motherhood and her love-life. 

━━  ❛ 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃. ╱ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Goldie mfn’ Forde! How are you doin’ on this beautiful afternoon? Your house looks great, by the way. I love it! Thank you so much for havin’ me. 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Holli Hoooood! I’m doin’ great, actually. Just tryna’ get used to being on the opposite end of an interview. But, no. Thank you for takin’ the interest in interviewing lil’ ol’ me. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Well, we gotta interview the hottest women in the game right now and your talk show THE GOLDEN HOUR has been killing it as of lately. You should be proud! You workin’ your ass off and still make time to be a mother. I must say your little boy is the cutest. [ The woman gestures at the little boy who is sleeping on her mother’s lap. ]

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Aw, gosh. [ She blushes with a wide smile on her face and she glances down at him, running her hand along the baby’s back. ] I don’t know what else to say but thank you. All these compliments makin’ me blush! [ She laughs softly before looking back at the interviewer. ] Workin’ my ass off is in my blood, though. I gotta from my momma. She don’t play that lazy sh*t. Doesn’t he look just like his momma, though? I need that on the record just in case someone tries to say that he looks like his daddy. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: He sure does, y’all look like twins. Woulda’ swore that you had that baby on your own, honestly. [ The interviewer chuckles before placing her hand on the notepad she held. ] But how are you liking motherhood? Is it a hard transition? 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ The smile on her face doesn’t fade doesn’t fade until she hears the last question that she asks. Sighing softly, she looks up at the sky as she tries to find the words to answer. ] In the beginning it was actually. I struggled a lot trying to get use to being a mother and not letting it consume who I am. Like of course, I’m a mother before everything, but I’m also a sister, friend, business woman, you know stuff outside of that. [ Looking back at the interviewer, she continues with a soft smile on her face. ] I also kinda’ struggled to connect with my child. I felt like I wasn’t going to be the best mother to him, I felt lonely, the whole nine. But now, we’re good. He’s my whole heart. Who I do it for, my everything. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: That’s beautiful, Goldie. I know a lot of women struggle with Post-partum depression after having their first child. I know it must be hard trying to balance your career-life and being a mother but you make it look easy. 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Whew, girl when I tell you it takes a village and that’s the only reason it looks so damn easy. [ A laugh emits from her lips before she feels her child shift in her lap. Mouthing the words oops, she picks him up in her arms before looking over her shoulder for her mother. ] Mommmyyyy, can you get your grand-baby? [ She speaks softly so that she won’t disturb him before pecking his cheek repeatedly. Once her mother walks over and takes him, she turns around to finish the question. ] Without that woman, wouldn’t be no Goldie on television. My mother and father, his father along with his side family help me out so much. He’s on set with me sometimes, but most of the time I want him to be somewhere quiet and not too rowdy. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Wow! You seem to have the ideal support group. Why happened to you and ZION’s father?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ A dry chuckle left the woman’s lips as she stared at the interviewer’s visage, swallowing the lump in her throat before she shifted in her seat some. ] Uh, lack of communication and failure to reason with one another. Yup. [ She finished with a soft head nod. ] But co-parenting is great. You know, our focus is completely on our son and what’s best for him. Next question, please. ❜ 

━━ ❛ 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. ╱ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Alright, Goldie. What achievements from last year are you most proud of? 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: My greatest achievement is Zion Israel Powers. I mean, with all the struggles that I experienced with pregnancy, I couldn’t be more grateful that God granted me the opportunity to be his mommy. [ She couldn’t help but to beam when she spoke about her child. ] The second great achievement of last year was putting myself first and leaving a job that didn’t serve my purpose. I will always be grateful to KPWR, but leaving a job that stifled my creativity was the best decision that I ever made. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: I know that’s right, Goldie! We leaving everything that doesn’t serve us in 2020, okay!? [ She laughed with a point before moving on to the next question. ] And what about the achievements of this year?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: And neva’ eva wrong. [ She laughed back while pointing back at the woman with her index finger. ] Uh.. I’m proud of the fact that I overcame a dark time in my life and I found a new part of myself that I never really got the chance to know. I’m happy with... uh... I’m happy with my life. Yeah. I’m making the kind of money that I want. I achieved two of my biggest dreams, I’m more secure in my body and I’m happy. Yeah. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: We love seeing black women happy, sis. I know a lot of people have been trying to steal your shine and happiness in the blogs. Do you have anything to say to the former talk show host that you replaced? She’s been in the media outlets throwing shade and subliminals a lot. 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: [ A short chuckle leaves the woman’s lips before she scratches her nose with her acrylic nail, pursing her lips up slightly. ] Mm... Not really, if it’s not direct, it doesn’t get acknowledged by me. I truly wish her the best in her future endeavors, though. I know it’s hard seeing someone else win while you struggle. I been there myself, but hating on the next woman isn’t going to change anything so.. ❜ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Well said. Very professional! I’m over here tryna’ be miss messy boots and you curvin’ it. You sure you haven’t had any media training? [ She snickers before moving onto the last question of this segment. ] Okay, lastly, what goals do you have for next year?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: None whatsoever. I’m just good like that. [ The woman speaks with a small smile before tilting her head to the side while she listens to the question asked. ] Goals for next year? To keep growing my brand, girl. Hopefully create my own app, merch, go on a talk show tour, maybe write a book? Who knows! I’m most definitely putting my momma and daddy in a new house, though. I know that. [ She said with a nod before clasping her hands together and shrugging. ] I’m letting life take me on this journey and I’m just ridin’ the wave. I pray it takes me in the right direction. ❜ 

 ━━ ❛ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄. ╱ 

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Now this house, what made you choose a house like this? Especially in a neighborhood that you’re not used to.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: It was definitely a change from my apartment in Crenshaw. I’m still in Inglewood but I’m not on the same block that I’m used to be on. I’m not doing hair out of my apartment to make some extra money. You know, I’m in the rich neighborhood and sometimes, you know I feel left out. But when I saw this house, I knew it was the one for me despite the neighborhood change. I needed a space that could accommodate me and all my needs along with my family. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: Can we get a tour? I mean, a house this beautiful needs to be viewed by the people and I’m sure your fans would like to see how you livin’. Don’t you think?

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: This isn’t my dream house, but it’s definitely an impressive STARTER HOME, ya’ know? It’s very spacious for family events and my family like to link all the damn time, so. I like it a lot. It’ll hold me over until further notice. I got everything baby proofed because I just know this lil’ boy gon’ be something else when he starts getting more a handle on this crawling thing. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: The entire house is flawless, but let’s get into this STACKED WARDROBE. You take this fashion sh*t serious, don’t ya’? Let me borrow some of these clothes. Or at least show me how you do it, chile. 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: I really don’t know what I’m doing with this fashion shit, I just know what looks good on me. Which is damn near everything. [ The woman speaks cockily, letting a laugh follow soon after before she looked over her closet. ] But I think I take a lot of my looks from old models and vixens of the 90s and 00s. Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of brands and clothing lines reaching out trying to get me to wear something from their lines. So, I’m excited about that. [ She says in a sing-song tone before doing a little dance. ] If you ever want me to give you some pointers, be sure to watch my show for my fashion tips segment. The girls really like that. ❜

❛ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃: I’ll be sure to tune in for that, girl! Thank you so much for this wonderful interview. You’ve been a pleasure to interview, honestly. [ The interview reaches over to shake her hand with a grin on her face. ] I told you it wasn’t going to be that bad. You guys be sure to tune in THE GOLDEN HOUR feature the gorgeous GOLDIE on BET everyday @ 5/6 ET. 

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄: Thank you so much for having me! You were great, made me feel so comfortable and everything. [ She compliments the interviewer while she shakes the woman’s hand then she looks directly into the camera lens. ] Listen to the woman, y’all. She know what she’s talkin’ ‘bout. Kisses, see y’all lata’! ❜

[yellowocaballero]

Bonus story that I regret already

A friend requested a HLVRAI/Freeman’s Mind/HL crossover. Specifically, them getting drinks, in a pub. 

I really hate to spill that I’ve seen all of HLVRAI and Freeman’s Mind, but I figure the cat’s out of the bag. It’s three pages. It’s crack. There will be no continuation. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but tw for ableist language, suggested animal abuse, and suggested slavery. So...that’s how you know Freeman Freeman’s Mind shows up. 

God, does anybody remember FM? Am I the only person who remembers FM? Am I having a stroke? Imagine if Freeman’s Mind came out in 2020. There’d be call-out posts. 

Enjoy...I think? Rest under the cut. 

********************************************

“When you think about it, dog breeding just doesn’t make any sense.”

Thank god. Gordon exhaled in relief. The guy sitting across from him in the dim, crowded pub had finally moved on from his extensive...very extensive...opinions on the IRS. Gordon had desperately tried redirecting the conversation to something more normal, like theoretical physics, or his opinion on multi-dimensional crossovers, but instead the guy just seemed very desperate that everybody know that taxation was theft.

“Right!” Gordon said enthusiastically, just trying to get word in edgewise. He knew he liked to talk, but this guy was ridiculous. “Pugs can’t give birth by themselves. It’s inhumane.”

“Oh, forget about that shit.” The guy waved a hand, burping slightly as he slammed back more of his beer. “What I’m saying is that it’s ridiculous not to train dogs to attack your enemies.”

“I don’t actually have that many -” 

But the guy was already ranting, completely talking over Gordon. Pleadingly, Gordon looked at the other guy they were sitting with for help, but he just sat there drinking his beer with eyes distantly fixed on the tacky retro diner signs hung on the wall. Traitor. 

“When you think about the entire thing’s stupid. The breed standards are just ridiculous, first off. Breeding dogs so they can’t bite, can’t bark, can’t hunt their own food? It’s stupid. What else is the point of a dog! Anybody around here remember why we breed dogs in the first place? It’s so they can help protect us, protect the pack. Dogs used to pull their own. And now they’re just shitty little lap dogs that rich old ladies use to wealth signal. It’s fucking stupid. Dogs are just freeloaders. And I don’t have any freeloaders in my house.”

“Wow,” Gordon muttered rebelliously, “did you read about that on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit?”

“So that’s why I’m proposing my new idea for dogs. A better dog. Dog 2, the sequel to dogs, if you will,” the guy continued, completely steamrolling him. “These dogs are huge, first of all. But not too huge, since you don’t want them to be a drain on your resources. I’d say definitely the size of a St. Bernard, maybe a little bit bigger. I don’t give a shit if it’s friendly to children or whatever. I don’t give a shit about children. If they can’t survive my dog attacking them, they were never going to make it to adulthood anyway. Survival of the fittest. Anyway, my dog’s going to be big. Short hair, because we live in a hot climate and I don’t want a dog that’s shedding everywhere. It’s not exactly going to be a polar rescue dog here, I need a dog that can survive the Arizona desert. But this dog has to be two things, and these two things are completely vital. Without these two things, it might as well be a Pomeranian.” The man held up two fingers. “One: the dog must be completely loyal to me. Intelligent, but not too intelligent that it doesn’t accept me as the alpha. I’m the alpha to the dog, as I’m also the alpha to the human race. Its loyalty must be complete. Like, I say jump, the dog says how high. That’s how intelligent it is too.” He pushed down the finger, keeping one up. “Second, the dog must be a cold blooded attack machine. I ain’t owning no pussy dog here. This dog is vicious. It can kill anything, and it will do it with pleasure. This dog feels no regret, pain, anguish, PTSD, hesitance, and it never fucking misses. Its teeth are huge and it’s an unrestrained attack machine. With this dog at my side, ain’t nobody’s fucking with me. Walking down the street with this dog next to me, nobody’s looking at me sideways. The chicks dig me. Everybody thinks I’m great. That’s why this is the ideal dog, above all other dogs.”

“Wow,” Gordon said desperately, really hoping that this was the end of the fucking dog conversation, “that’s great. My friend, uh, Tommy, he has a great Golden. Says it’s a perfect dog. That’s really possible actually, it survived like six turrets -”

“Idiot. That’s not what I fucking mean.” The guy scoffed at Gordon. “This perfect dog doesn’t exist. No dog is that immaculate. And if you try breeding for all those traits, you end up with some shitty inbred dog. No way. You gotta get more creative. Just wanting the perfect dog is for chumps who don’t understand genetics, evolution, dog breeding, dog training, warfare both physical and psychology, psychology itself, sociology, philosophy, or xenobiology. No. What I’m saying now is that in order to get the perfect dog, you have to breed aliens. I’m thinking headcrabs.”

Gordon distantly felt his jaw dropping. “Head - headcrabs?”

“Or those fucked up things with garbage disposal mouths,” the guy said thoughtfully. “Whatever they’re called. I don’t respect any of those shitty aliens enough to give them names. If you want me to remember your name, you have to earn it. My brain’s filled with much more important things, like theoretical physics and being better than you.”

“Garbage disposal - do you mean peeper puppies?!”

“Yeah, whatever. What I’m saying is that I’ve really cornered the market on xenobiology. I’m the world fuckin’ expert in dealing with aliens.” He looked thoughtful for a second as he chugged his beer again, which was a first. “Well. Dimensional expert. Point is, I can say with eighty seven percent confidence that, given enough time and unlimited access to a shock collar, I can train one of those shitty alien species crawling all over Black Mesa to obey my every command and slay my enemies. I could probably even turn it against its kinsmen. Get the aliens to wipe out the aliens, and humanity comes out on top. Then I turn my alien slaves against humanity, and Gordon Freeman is at top. So what do you think? Good idea or good idea?”

Gordon stared at him, slightly horrified, slightly incredulous, somehow amused. God, he had spent too much time around Benrey. This guy would love Benrey. He could never introduce them. “Terrible idea. I can’t believe we’re the same person.”

“You’re a loser. What about you, huh?” Freeman gestured with his cup at the third Gordon Freeman, who still seemed thoroughly checked out of the conversation. “What do you think? Want to invest some money into my plan? You’ll get a three hundred return on your investment, and dominion of the country of your choice.”

Gordon Freeman stared at Freeman blankly. He seemed really checked out. 

Freeman looked back at Gordon. “Is this guy retarded or something? That or he’s high off his ass, but I know how I get when I’m high and I’m never that out of it.”

“I’m not sure you aren’t on coke right now,” Gordon groused, sipping his own margarita. Which Freeman had called a ‘girl drink’. Asshole. “Why don’t you just -”

“Hey, Doc!”

Suddenly, with no more advanced warning than the overly friendly cry, Benrey - sorry, Barney - popped up at their table. Freeman groaned, ignoring him completely for favor of his drink, and Gordon waved weakly at him. He seemed - well, nice. Much nicer than Benrey. Not that it was hard. 

“You guys having fun or what?” Barney said, leaning against the table and winking at Freeman, who made a face. “We’re having a really good time at the Barney table, let me tell you. Maybe we can do Trivia Pursuit? That’ll be fun!”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually making friends with Benrey,” Gordon said, sighing. “Dude’s insufferable.”

“Blunt as ever, Doc,” Barney laughed. “Benrey’s not that bad! Just kind of a freak, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, impossibly depressed. “I know.”

“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask the Doc if he had my keys. Hold on a hot second.” Barney turned to the aforementioned zoned out Gordon Freeman, and abruptly started waving his hands around. Wait - was that sign language? When he glanced at Freeman, he seemed interested too. 

Even more amazingly, Gordon Freeman responded, rolling his eyes and tilting his fist before digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys, pressing them into Barney’s hands. Barney winked, signed out what Gordon recognized as a thank you, and fucked off back to the Barney table. If Gordon craned his head, he could see Freeman’s Barney (whose name Freeman didn’t even seem to know) trying to drink his beer as he was thoroughly terrorized by Benrey. Gordon couldn’t fight the crush of fondness that bloomed in his chest. Benrey was fun to watch when he was terrorizing someone else - but you could say that about all of his friends, really. 

Then the implications of that exchange hit Gordon over the head. He turned to Gordon Freeman, who seemed to have gone back to checking out of the conversation. “Wait, are you freaking deaf?”

Gordon blinked at him sleepily. Gordon cursed, rummaging around on the table until he found a napkin, and Freeman passed him a pen as he wrote down in large, blocky letters ‘ARE YOU DEAF???’ and slid it to Gordon Freeman. 

Gordon Freeman stared at it. He looked up at the two of them and - oh, god, he was definitely smirking. Like the cat that caught the fucking canary. He tilted his fist in what even Gordon recognized as a yes. 

“You fucking asshole!” Gordon exploded. “You left me to suffer with this guy alone? How could you? That’s not team behavior!”

“You got pranked, bro!” Benrey called, from across the room. “Bro, you got mad pranked! El oh el, bro!”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“Hey, what do you mean?” Freeman asked, offended. “My ideas are genius. This is a unique business opportunity, here. You’ll never get another chance to make three hundred percent back on your investment again -”

“Epic fail, bro!” Benry called. 

Gordon groaned and started chugging his margarita. He would need to be a lot drunker if he was going to get through this stupid extradimensional mistake. 

[desktopdust]

Scrapped Shooting Star Sonia Ideas

After over five years of work, the Shooting Star Sonia series is officially over.  Initially I had ideas for it to run a bit longer, but after experiencing some burnout while writing Red Joker I felt it would be best to wrap things up in Event Horizon.  Of course, once I get an idea I have a compulsive need to talk about it, so detailed here are my original plans for anyone who might be curious.

Event Horizon itself didn’t change all that much.  Information would still be provided about the MBN cores, though perhaps not quite everything; Sirius would have had the xarium rather than Blitzar, so there’d be no Rogue Xa yet and Solo would take the metal back at the end.  Naturally, the ending is where the biggest change occurred: originally, someone from Planet XM would express interest in continuing to have Sonia and friends test the Meteor Breaker Numbers, and give them one year to prepare before the experiments begin in earnest.  How ominous!  Everyone would realize they need to get stronger, and to facilitate that, Sonia would use the EM Compatibility Tuner to interface with the Rosetta Compiler, becoming the new Administrator of the Black Hole Server.

Next thing I wanted to do was actually a super short side story, the obligatory Boktai crossover.  More specifically Boktai DS/Lunar Knights, since that’s the one that did a crossover with SF1.  Though I never did get into Boktai proper, I always found it neat that Battle Network and Star Force had these ongoing crossovers, and I wanted to keep it going.  It was a very basic idea: Sabata ends up in the SF universe and gets possessed by an FM-ian (I believe I was thinking Vulpecula?), so Django follows and teams up with Sonia to stop him.  No one would be showing off their new powers here, it’d be too soon for that, but there’d probably be hints.

The main event would’ve been Shooting Star Sonia 4: Rosetta Orbit. (A Rosetta orbit occurs when an object is moving fast enough to not be sucked into a black hole, but not fast enough to entirely escape its pull.) A year has passed, and so Planet XM begins dispatching a series of Meteor Breaker Numbers for Sonia to fight.  I thought the major bosses all being on par with previous final bosses would be a cool way to raise the stakes, and I went with two themes when designing them: the seasons of the year, and other Mega Man series.  For instance, the first MBN to appear would have been Vernal Ronin, a skeletal samurai robot meant to evoke Mega Man Legends (it’d look Reaverbot-esque, it’d been observing the heroes from the moon for some time now) and spring (“vernal” means spring, samurai are associated with cherry blossoms which only bloom in spring).  I also wanted each MBN to be accompanied by an XM-ian who had some sort of reference to the Roll of the respective Mega Man series, though I had done less work on that. (Vernal Ronin would have been overseen by Cophin, an excitable engineer.)  The other MBNs were Estival Rampart (summer, ZX), Autumnal Specter (autumn, Zero), and Brumal Transgressor (winter, X), with a recurring boss in the form of an XM-ian named Aeim who fought by operating a separate entity named Solstice_Harbinger.XM (EXE).  Ultimately, the gang heads to Planet XM to find the newest MBN, the Equinox, which has been enhanced with all the data gathered over the course of the story and resembles the Yellow Devil from Classic.

On to transformations, Solo would obviously unveil Rogue Xa at this point, and I liked the idea of Geo working with the Sages of AM and WAZA to merge the Star Forces into a single, absurdly powerful form inspired visually by the unused concept art for an Angel Tribe On.  With Geo and Sonia no longer needing the Ace and Joker Programs, I thought it would make sense to pass them on--have Bud take the Joker Program and Luna take the Ace Program.  Sad to say I never got to the point of designing these forms, but I think it would’ve been fun.  Also, I was contemplating the idea of Zack operating Magnes similar to a Net Navi, probably also developing a way for him to enter a controlled version of his Spade Magnes form; I wanted him to be involved and this seemed like an easy way to do it.  There was also the possibility of Jack wanting to help and becoming a new iteration of Acid Ace, but I didn’t come to a decision on that.  Other than that...I think Shepar was also going to have a way to temporarily take on the form of Chalice Libra?  Everyone else was kind of on their own.

Now then, Sonia...as I said, she’d be drawing power from the Black Hole Server, which is powered by Adha. The last time she used this energy to transform was when she held the OOPArts, and I wanted to tie back into that. So, similarly to then, Sonia would draw on the Black Hole Server using the EM Compatibility Tuner, and then use the power of her Brother Bands to get it under control.  These forms, called Orbits, would change her appearance and abilities to be similar to the Wave Form of the specific Brother she’s calling on at the time, probably with some design elements from Sirius thrown in.  I wanted one for each element and was planning Luna Orbit, Bud Orbit, and Claude Orbit...but was at a loss for an Elec form. Since Gemini didn’t stick around I didn’t think giving her a Pat Orbit would be a good idea, and Couronne doesn’t have a Hunter and thus can’t make a formal Brother Band.  I could’ve ignored that restriction, or found a way to justify her Band with Zack giving her a Magnes-based form, but nothing was ever decided on. However, just like with the OOPArts, this power would have sometimes run wild, causing Sonia to enter a berserk state and forcing one of her allies to hit her with her elemental weakness to shock her out of the form.  For this reason, she would exclusively stick to forms that have elements...until the final boss.  The Equinox would adapt throughout the fight and develop ways to counter all four elements, so with no choice, Sonia would use Geo Orbit to get a form combining Mega Man’s powers with her own, defeating the Equinox and saving the day.  Then, she goes berserk.  Her friends would find a way to calm her down eventually, of course, but this would sort of make Sonia the true final boss and I thought that was kinda neat.

So, with the pinnacle of the MBN Program destroyed, the XM-ians would be kind of freaking out--here’s where we’d get the full story of the origin of the program, and how it was originally meant to protect Planet XM in case a certain angry god ever showed up.  Sonia being Sonia, she’d say that if anything happens, she’ll protect them.  The XM-ians are moved by her kindness, and decide that maybe they should stop building war machines after all.  After that, there were two more small things I wanted to do, either as two short stories (4.5 and 4.55, I think?) or as two Epilogues for RO.  Firstly, that thing Planet XM is so afraid of would show up, and what do you know, it’s Duo.EXE!  When I was planning for Red Joker I remembered how, leading up to SF3’s release, there were a bunch of theories that Meteor G had some connection to Duo, and I wanted to do something with that.  The ultimate story then (and this holds true to an extent for the final product as well) is that Duo’s violence in the name of “justice” only spread pain and fear, which led to the XM-ians developing the MBN cores to fight against him, which only led to more pain and fear through their own actions as well as through the cores ending up in others’ hands.  It’s an ongoing cycle of violence that is only broken when Sonia steps in to convince people to try a peaceful solution.  Capping it off with Sonia the idealist versus Duo the extremist, probably resulting in Sonia helping Duo to grow beyond his programming and be more productive than destructive, seemed like a fitting, fun way to go.  After that, I just wanted to have one last fight between Sonia and Solo--Geo Orbit Harp Note vs Rogue Xa in deep space to finally settle their rivalry!  I didn’t decide a result, but it definitely would’ve involved Solo properly opening up and telling Sonia he respects her and all that.

(Also a very specific joke I wanted to use in RO and couldn’t find a good place to integrate into this post: when the head of the MBN Program is explaining it to Sonia, she’d say they still have MBN-001 through 008 on display, but only have records for MBN-010 and up.  Sonia asks about MBN-009, and her guide scowls and says “We don’t talk about number 9.” You know, referencing the other Mega Man.)

(And, there is one other idea I had, a spin-off to shift to after resolving the history of the MBN cores, but it’s detached enough that I think I can turn it into a standalone story in the future so I want to hold onto it for now.  Probably best I take a break from writing Star Force for the time being, but I really like the character designs I thought up for this one, so one day, I hope to put them to use.)

Once again, I want to thank you all for your interest in Shooting Star Sonia--I hope I was able to entertain you! It was a bit rocky at times, but in the end, I’m glad I embarked on this journey, and I’m eager to get to work on a new one.  Until next time.

[daggerzine]

Ray Farrell on music and his time at SST, Blast First, Geffen and many more.

Ray Farrell has had a lifetime surrounded by music. First as a fan as a young kid and then eventually working for a series of record labels. He’s obviously a fan first and foremost as you can tell by reading below. It also seemed like he was there at the beginning of some major music scenes happening.

I had met Ray very briefly at one of the A.C. Elks hardcore shows that Ralph Jones put on in Atlantic City in the Summer of 1985 though Ray doesn’t remember it (honestly, a bunch of us were standing in a circle and chatting so I’m not even sure if any proper introductions were done).

Anyway, knowing some of the record labels that Ray had worked for I wanted to hear the whole story. I contacted him and shot him some questions and he was more than happy to elaborate and let us know where he’s been and where he’s going.  Take it away, Ray!

 Where did you grow up?

RF-Jersey City and Parsippany, New Jersey in the 60/70’s. I have two younger brothers.

What did you listen to first…classic rock or stuff earlier than that?

RF-Rock wasn’t classic yet. My earliest memories of music are my parents’ modest collection of 45’s and grandparents’ 78’s. My mom had a handful of singles on Chess and Satellite (pre-Stax)  that she said fell off a truck. We rented our house from a family connected to the mob. The records probably came from them. My mom and her sisters often sang Tin Pan Alley era songs at family gatherings. Harmony was encouraged!

Some records I heard as a toddler stayed with me forever. Lonnie Donegan’s “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor?” is a skiffle classic. Chuck Berry’s “Guitar Boogie” and “Last Night” by the Mar- Keys are still favorites.  I remember being spooked by the overblown production of the “Johnny Cash Sings Hank Williams” e.p. on Sun Records. In the mid 60’s, my mom had top 40 radio on in the house unless my dad was home. When I was in kindergarten, a high school neighbor in our building babysat me for a couple hours after school a few days a week.  Her girlfriends came over regularly. They listened to a lot of doo-wop, which I still love today. The babysitter and her friends taught me how to slow dance, even though I wasn’t nearly a full grown boy. J

My best friend in 7th grade was a Beatles fanatic and we immersed ourselves in decoding clues to the “Paul McCartney Is Dead” gimmick. That was a brilliant scam and a fun short term hobby.  It was a deep dive into The Beatles music as a junior music detective.  By the time I started buying records, The Beatles were on their way out.

I happily lived for many months on only three albums-

CCR’s “Bayou Country”, Iron Butterfly’s “In A Gadda Da Vida” and the Beatles “Sgt. Pepper.” I joined the Columbia Record Club. I got the first twelve albums for one buck. That was a popular scam.  Those first twelve records shaped my taste because they were the only records I had. I didn’t know what to order but I chose very well in retrospect. After that, I bought a lot of records. I didn’t smoke, but many of my friends did. A carton of cigs cost the same as an lp- 5 bucks.

I learned in 7th grade that if I knew the songs that girls liked, we would have something to talk about. Girls loved Tommy James and The Shondells and The Rascals. I still do! I had a wider range in music taste than most of my high school friends. Everyone in my extended circle loved the Stones, Neil Young and the Allman Brothers. In a tighter circle we were into David Bowie, Lou Reed, Sparks, Todd Rundgren etc. I loved Mountain, Led Zep, Hendrix, Budgie, The Kinks, Alice Cooper, Sabbath. At first, The Stooges seemed too deep and serious for me. A little scary because I thought if teenagers felt like this all over the world, I’m doomed.  I bought the album with “Loose” and played that song for weeks before listening to the rest of it. The girl next door had Iggy’ s “Raw Power” album the week it was released. When glam rock was happening in England, there was a weekly NYC radio show that played the Melody Maker Top 30 singles. I was fascinated by T.Rex, Slade, Hawkwind.  I don’t recall if prog rock was a tag yet, I knew that I didn’t like songs that rambled on for more than 7 minutes. There were exceptions of course- some King Crimson, Yes, Mahavishnu. I was impressionable. Radio station WBAI hosted “Free Music Store” concerts with local acts. One show was a keyboard  group  called Mother Mallard that had banks of synthesizers on stage. They were similar to the music of Phillip Glass and Steve Reich, who you would only hear on that same radio station. I talked myself into buying their records, but it took years to comprehend them. I was too young to be listening to such serious stuff. I played soccer and ran track for a couple years. During meets at other schools, I made friends. At parties I heard Issac Hayes, Bohannon and James Brown records. Brown was all over top 40 radio. Rhythm guitar was my jam! Soul and funk records were best for that. I spent many nights listening to AM radio. The signal travels farther at night, so I’d listen to stations far away. It didn’t matter what kind of music it was. Some of my relatives had short wave radios. I was more interested in radio production than short wave content. The production quality has not changed much since then.  It often sounds like broadcasts trapped in the ether for the last 30 years.

 While I was in high school, it was common for local colleges to host rock and jazz concerts for low prices, sometimes free. The schools had to spend the money sitting in the student union coffers.   There was a live music club in my town called Joint In The Woods. The venue began as a banquet hall that doubled as a meeting hall for Boy Scout Jamborees and the like.  When it became the Joint, it was a disco. The first night of live music was a show with Iggy & The Stooges. The regular disco patrons were pissed!  The guys were mostly goombah’s in Quiana print shirts and bell bottoms. Three or four guys smacked Iggy around after his set.  Sure enough, he played Max’s Kansas City the next night as if nothing happened. Because of this club, touring bands were suddenly playing in my town. Badfinger, Roy Wood’s Wizzard, Muddy Waters. The NY Dolls were scheduled but didn’t show up. Springsteen was often an opening act. The N.J. legal drinking age had just lowered to 18. It was a great time. I was still in school, so I wasn’t staying out on weeknights.

I was determined to learn NYC music history by hitting all the Greenwich Village clubs and talking to the owners and bartenders. It didn’t matter what kind of music they specialized in- I was into the vibe. There were occasional scary nights parking near CB’s or jazz spots in that neighborhood. Folk music was on FM radio at the time. A high school friend booked a local coffee house called Tea & Cheese. Mostly locals and ambitious tri-state artists. Martin Mull, Aztec Two Step, Garland Jeffries. Some of Lou Reed’s touring band, The Tots, played there.  I went to all kinds of record stores, mainly those that sold rock imports and cutouts. I was fascinated by the street level buzz of a record. In ’74, I heard dub reggae for the first time. The only stores to get that music were in Queens because there was a strong West Indian community there. It may have been the “Harder They Come” soundtrack that got me started. There was a “pay to play” radio station in Newark - WHBI. DJ’s had to buy their airtime. Arnold “Trinidad” Henry had a weekly show playing new calypso and reggae. He was more into calypso than reggae.  A lot of calypso was political and comical. Arnold was fascinating! There was often a personal crisis he’d talk about on the air. My favorite incident was when he said that his life had been threatened during the program, so he locked himself in the studio.. Someone called the cops. They convinced him to unlock the door. He just wanted more airtime.  Arnold played the first reggae dub track I’d heard- full dub albums were a new concept at the time. Most dub was found on the flipsides of reggae 45’s. One of the shows sponsors was Chin Randy’s Records in Queens. I trekked out there by train to buy my first dub records. That was a trip! Randy Chin’s family went on to start VP Records.

 What was the first alternative/independent music you got into? How did it happen (friends? older siblings?)

RF-The term “punk” as a music style hadn’t been coined yet.  I vaguely recall equating “punk” with the great “Nuggets” compilation or something Greg Shaw might have writ in Bomp Magzine. I didn’t identify labels as independent. I knew that if the label design was simple and the address was listed, it was probably a small company.  There were plenty of record stores carrying obscure stuff.   I bought import records from a few NYC stores. I took the bus in until I was old enough to drive.  One store Pantasia, was up in The Bronx. I went there one Christmas eve day to get the import of the second Sadistic Mika Band album. The clerk talked me into buying the harder to find first album as well. He said it sounded like Shel Talmy produced it. I knew who that was and it was a revelation to talk to somebody in a record store at that level. That is what a record store should be! I read Phonograph Record magazine, Bomp and Trouser Press regularly.  Patti Smith and Television self released their debut singles- those are the first “indie” records I bought, followed by the first two Pere Ubu singles.  I remember hearing the Modern Lovers’ “Roadrunner” from the Bezerkley Chartbusters comp on WFMU and thinking that there must be more music like that. It was refreshing.

Seeing Patti Smith and Television perform at CBGB’s changed my life. I connected the dots. I had BÖC albums on which Patti had co-writes.  She had a poem insert in Todd Rundgren’s “A Wizard, A True Star” album. She read a Morrison poem on a Ray Manzarek lp. She wrote for rock music mags with distinctive style. I read a brief story about her in the Voice and went to see her do her annual Rock N’ Rimbaud show. Shortly after that she and Television played CBGB’s for six weekends in early ’75. Both bands were really great. Patti didn’t have a drummer yet. Richard Hell was a big inspiration to me.  He looked cool. He played bass like he just picked it up the month before. That was a new concept.  Television changed bass players in the middle of the residency. Television was the first band I saw with short hair and they dressed like teenage delinquents circa 1962. The CBGB’s jukebox had a good number of 60’s garage records. In my head I conceived Television  to be inspired by that music.  Made sense to me- Lenny Kaye, who assembled the “Nuggets” comp,  is in the PSG. When I went back to see Television headline, The Ramones opened. Seeing The Ramones again, Talking Heads opened. It seemed like the streak of seeing great new bands would not end. They were distinctly NYC sounds. They could not have merged anywhere else.  I remember avoiding the band Suicide because I didn’t think the music could be good J. Bands like Tuff Darts, Mumps and The Marbles opened shows but I wasn’t thrilled by them. A CBGB’s band that doesn’t get mentioned much is Mink DeVille. They wore matching outfits like they were playing a low budget Miami dive in 1962J.  The club still had the small corner stage. The p.a. was ok and the bands had small amps. The music wasn’t loud in a “rock” way. You could sit at a table right in front of the band. Although we consider the club a birthplace of punk, the club showcased local bands that had been around for a while. I think the club upgraded the p.a. once before building the big stage. I realized at that point that when a band was great or at least interesting live, the records were basic documents of the band’s sound.

What was your first job in the music scene/industry?

RF- Before realizing I wanted to be in the business, I hounded import mail order guys on the phone about non-lp b-sides and albums that weren’t released stateside.  I was fascinated by the process.  Why were some records not in stores even though they had local airplay? My dad did not listen to much music, but he had an army buddy that made a living in Al Hirt’s band. He came to our house once. He gave my dad a copy of John Fahey’s “After The Ball” album, which he played on.  I liked his stories about the session man side of the business.  Fahey treated him well.  I was generally shy, but when it came to music I would approach anyone I thought I could learn from.  I heard horror stories about the music biz in NYC but learned later that those were a mob related labels. At the time, I thought the entire NYC music biz might be that way. I planned to move to California anyway.   In high school, I go-fer’d at local Jersey radio stations and talked my way into meeting a few top FM radio dj’s. I thought I wanted to be a professional dj, but my dad wisely talked me out of that. The itinerant radio jock life would not be for me. It was a racket.

In ’76, I took a long low budget cross country trip with my high school sweetheart.  Along the way, I stayed in Memphis for three weeks with a cousin who was stationed at the Millington naval base.  Got a job at a hip movie theatre that served liquor.  I found Alex Chilton in the phone book and spent an afternoon talking with him. I wasn’t yet legal drinking age in Tennessee. It amused him that a fan showed up in his town who was not old enough to drink.  En route to Cali, Tulsa, OK was on my route to find Shelter Records and studio , but it  shut down and the label moved to L.A. At the time, Dwight Twilley’s “I’m On Fire” was a radio hit. I didn’t think there were still bands like that. Twilley was from Tulsa, but had moved to L.A. by that time.

When I arrived in L.A. I visited small label record company offices. A few offered me jobs or references. I spent two weeks crashing at the Malibu house of a distant family friend. I didn’t want to live in L.A. but I was encouraged by the opportunities. I got a job at the famous record store- Rather Ripped in Berkeley, CA.

 Patti Smith told me about Rather Ripped before I left Jersey. In ’75, she and her band went to California for shows in L.A. and Berkeley. The northern Cali shows were set up by the store. She did a poetry reading there. This is well before “Horses” was released.  I bought a couple records from the store’s Dedicated Fool mail order service. They had a monthly catalog on newsprint. Thousands of records in tiny font.  Every record was described with a few words. This is 1976 and punk rock was just getting started. I worked as a prep cook in a charcuterie associated with Alice Waters’ famous restaurant Chez Panisse. The proprietor knew the record store owners. I wasn’t actively looking to work there, but I talked about music all day every day. They fast tracked me for an interview. Because of a scheduling mistake, Tom Petty interviewed me for the job. His first album just came out and “American Girl” was close to being a hit single. The band came to the store before a local show. Tom overheard the owner apologizing for not being able to do the interview, so he offered to conduct it.  It was great. I knew all about his label, Shelter Records.  I deliberately avoided talking about The Ramones and Patti Smith because punk was new and against the grain.  At the end of the interview Tom told the owners that if he lived in Berkeley, he’d buy all his records from me.  The store owner still had to interview me formally the next day, but I knew that I nailed it.

 It was owned by two dynamic gents that were connected to Berkeley society and Bay Area journalists. They weren’t typical record store guys. They celebrated the 70’s in the moment. They held court with well known music scribes, musicians, dj’s. They were good friends of The Residents. Perhaps my strangest story is meeting The Residents with the Rather Ripped owners at a S.F. Irish bar that specialized in Irish Coffee’s. I had only recently heard of the group, so I was not cognizant of their marketing myth.   At the bar, we were with our girlfriends and wives. One of the Residents tried to convince me and my gf to go back their place for a hot tub session.  I laughed out loud and said “geez, what a bunch of hippies”! We didn’t go. In retrospect, I should have gone on the condition that they wore eyeball heads in the tub. At that time, The Residents rarely performed live, but they did in 1975 for the store’s birthday party. The early Bezerkley Records (Jonathan Richman, Greg Kihn) was distributed to stores through Rather Ripped. Their office was a few blocks away. At the store, each employee had unique music taste and expertise. Pop music was changing rapidly with a new energy. Some of us were tapped into it.  We all had to know the key new releases in every genre because we were tastemakers. Major labels would beg us to do window displays for new releases. But if they could not find a store employee that liked that artist, it was no go. So, no Pablo Cruise window display.  We weren’t against major labels, but we put a lot of energy into selling the ton of music that we loved. Our focus was on imports, indies, promos and cut outs where we could get a good price mark up.  We had a rare record search service with customers all over the world. We’d find rare records through trade-ins and by combing record stores all over the state.

There were a few import distributors, but they weren’t hip to many small run U.S. independent releases. That was understandable because bands didn’t often press enough records for a distributor to get excited about. In other words, why spend half your day hunting down records that were only pressed in small quantities. Just as they start selling, you’re out of stock. There gonna sell a hell of a lot more Scorpions’ picture discs!   As always, some distributors financed exclusive re-pressings of records that had momentum. The only way to get records like Roky Erikson’s “Two Headed Dog” single or The Flamin’ Groovies’ “You Tore Me Down” 45 was directly through mail order.  I wrote to label addresses listed in Trouser Press and fanzines to buy direct in order to sell them in the store with no competition. Major label sales reps didn’t prioritize us  because we didn’t shift bulk units of the hits. However, we were so plugged in to the lesser known artists that we were a good place for record companies to try and start a buzz. We could swell 50-100 of a record that all the other stores sold a handful of. Bands showed up at the store while touring.  Springsteen bought Dylan bootlegs from us by mail order. Patti Smith’s manager Jane Friedman used the store as a home base when Patti and John Cale came through the area.

Berkeley is in the East Bay of the S.F. bay area. A few months after starting at Rather Ripped, I realized that the city had a rich music scene well before punk /new wave started. There was Fantasy Records, a well known jazz r&b label but best known for CCR;  Arhoolie, Solid Smoke, Metalanguage;  the contemp classical labels- Lovely Music and 1750 Arch; folk and blues labels like Takoma and Olivia. Of course, bands like Chrome and others started labels to release their own music. Ralph Records was started by The Residents, and they began signing bands.  Rather Ripped was also a center for improv, electronic and meditation records.

In ’77 or ’78   I joined the nascent Maximum Rock N Roll radio team. This was well before the magazine. In the early days there were weeks when we didn’t have enough new punk records to fill the two hour weekly show. Tim Yohannon was all about energetic, real rock n roll, so he filled in the program with records by Gene Vincent, The Sonics etc. BTW, Tim applied green masking tape to the three closed sides of every record he had. He gave me a Mekons double single  he decided he didn’t like. It was in a  gatefold sleeve that he sealed shut with his green tape!  Sometimes he re-designed the cover art…never for the better. He made his own pic sleeves for 45’s that didn’t have them. Bands would stare at their own records in bewilderment. Tim was archiving the records of the entire punk and hardcore movement worldwide.

Eventually, Tim brought in Ruth Schwartz, and Jeff Bale as co-hosts- both great people.  Jello Biafra was a frequent guest. Tim assembled the “Not So Quiet On The Western Front” lp and later organized syndication for the radio show. I remember hearing the first Disorder ep and thinking -this is the future! J  It was exciting. But soon, most hardcore records sounded alike to me. It was like- “Do you want more fries with your fries?” I went to plenty of live shows without knowing a lot about the bands playing them. I was happy when the fashion trended away from jackboots to sneakers…getting a boot kick to the head in a stage dive could be brutal.  I didn’t see a lot of skinhead violence at shows, but I know it was changing the scene.

San Francisco and Berkeley were important music centers, activist meccas as well as creative artistic and intellectual hubs.  Yohannon had history as an activist. He identified with public protests for causes & social issues.  For many teenagers, punk rock was a rite of passage. I think it changed a lot of kids’ lives for the better.  The overriding message was to be civically aware of what is going on around you and what affects your life.

 Tell me about your time at Arhoolie Records. Where was it located?

Rather Ripped’s owners had a falling out and the remaining owner just wanted to sell records and antiques with his wife. He moved it to a nearby city. Just before the store closed, he told me of an open position at Back Room Distribution, a division of Arhoolie. It was in El Cerrito, a small town north of Berkeley. Chris Strachwitz, the owner of Arhoolie is a legendary record man. He recorded many of his early blues albums with a tape recorder in his car.  He owned the legendary Down Home Music store in the same building.  Separated by partition behind the store was Back Room.  It was an indie label distributor for blues, folk roots music. Rounder Records was still a new label at the time. I gotta admit, when Rounder issued The Shaggs “Philosophy Of The World’ I was in seventh heaven. I worked primarily for the distributor, grooming to be a sales rep but I spent a lot of time in the store.  At first, I didn’t yet relate to blues and country music. But there were a lot of touring artists in those styles making a living. It was a strong network of clubs, fans, radio shows and press that fueled it. The store had an incredible selection of obscure 50’s/60’s rockabilly and garage band comps. The Cramps were my favorite band at the time.  The rockabilly comps  mostly on a the Dutch White Label, were treasure troves of insane songs.  My heart was in new music- whatever you wanna call it, punk, new wave, art music. That’s the business I wanted to be in.  I used my time to learn more about distribution operations. The people that worked at Arhoolie and in its community were fun music heads. There were a lot of good musicians among them.  It was a great time to live in Berkeley.

What was next, Rough Trade and CD Presents? Was that in San Francisco? I went to that Rough Trade store a few times and it was an amazing store.

I knew folks from Rough Trade UK because I bought imports from them to sell @ Rather Ripped. When they wanted to open in the U.S. they contacted me, but at the time the wage was low and there wasn’t enough space to work. I was interested in working in the distribution division, not the store. They speiled something about it being a socialist business.  I stayed at Arhoolie for a little while longer.  In the meantime, I was offered my own weekly late night radio show on Pacifica’s  KPFA in Berkeley- same station as Maximum Rock N’Roll. I took over a show called “Night Sky”, an ambient music program. My interim program title was “No More Mr. Night Sky” until I settled on “Assassinatin’ Rhythm”. The station’s music director was a contemporary classical composer closely associated with avant -garde and 20th century music. A major segment of my show was for industrial, post-punk and undefinable music. I hosted a few live on- air performances with Z’ev, Slovenly and Angst among others. Negativland’s “Over The Edge” program started on KPFA around this time. KPFA was 100,000 watts of power with affiliate stations covering the Central Valley down to Fresno and Bakersfield.

 When the time was right, I moved to Rough Trade’s U.S. distribution company in Berkeley. The record store was in San Francisco. We distributed a lot of British records sent by Rough Trade UK, often in small quantities.  Rough Trade US was set up to press and distribute select RT and Factory records by Joy Division, ACR, The Fall, Stiff Little Fingers, Crass. It was cheaper and more effective to press in the U.S and Canada. I also distributed some U.S. labels but there was one Brit on the staff that hated most American music.  On top of that, it could be a dangerous place to work. One of the staff was importing reggae records and weed from Jamaica to our warehouse. The local connection was shot on his porch shortly after he picked up a shipment! I was lucky to spend a few days travelling with Mark E.Smith of The Fall. He loved obscure rockabilly and garage band records. I was able to return to Memphis for a while to prep the first Panther Burns album for release. Tony Wilson of Factory put up most of the money to keep RTUS going. He was a brilliant character, but I learned from talking with him how not to conduct business. I often got sample records from bands that wanted distribution. Pell Mell’s “Rhyming Guitars” e.p.  was the start of my long association with the band. I enjoyed selling records to stores all over the country. I learned about local scenes, records, fanzines, clubs and college radio stations everywhere. Making these sources connect for touring bands and record sales was exciting. Because Rough Trade is British, we had the benefit of connections with club dj’s. We pressed and promoted New Order’s “Blue Monday” single on a shoestring budget.  For a long time, it was the best kept secret from the mainstream.  I left Rough Trade for Subterranean Records ( Flipper etc) for a spell while working in a record store. The guy that put up the money for the record store ran guns to Cuba through Mexico. Thankfully, not through the actual store.  I booked Cali shows for Panther Burns, The Wipers, Sonic Youth, Whitehouse.

Who owned the CD Presents label? I remember that Avengers compilation.

It was owned by a lawyer, David Ferguson. He had a recording studio as well.  I didn’t understand why he wanted to run a label. He did not have an ear for music. But we did release a Tales Of Terror lp!  He almost released a DOA album that I thought the band would kill him over. Many years later I got into a fist fight with one of David’s employees in a limo ride shared with Ferguson and Lydia Lunch. We fought through the window separating the driver from the passengers. I would love to recreate that for a film. Good times!

My main role there was to set up the first Billy Bragg record in the U.S. Billy’s manager was the legendary Peter Jenner and both were great to work with. They were using CD Presents as a stepping stone to a major label. In the meantime, I knew a few people at SST. Joe Carducci is an old friend. He was pitching me to move to L.A. and work there,  but I resisted for a while. I had just met the woman that I knew would be the love of my life. I didn’t want to move to SoCal. Joe gave me an ultimatum. He sent three advance cassettes that convinced me to go- Meat Puppets’ “Up On The Sun”, Minutemen’s “Double Nickels” and Huskers’ “New Day Rising” That’s an excellent recruiting strategy. I later married the love of my life.

On the side I booked shows for bands I loved. Gerard Cosloy asked me to book Sonic Youth first northern Cali shows. I also booked shows for The Wipers and noise band Whitehouse

Was SST Records next? How long did you last there and what was that like?

I was there for three years. “How long did you last there?” sounds like I was biding my time :)   I’m often asked about my time with SST.

Carducci hired me to do PR. That meant publicity, college radio, regional press. Video was a valuable promo tool. MTV’s “120 Minutes” program was a great way to promote our records.

In 1987 we put out more records than Warner Brothers. By that time, I hired people to help.

I’ve done a number of interviews about SST. If you have specific questions, shoot. I recall that my social life was almost entirely with my co-workers and bands on the label. I was nearly oblivious to music from other labels. I was a big fan of Dischord and Homestead. Metallica, COC, Voivod and the Birthday Party/Nick Cave were my non-SST staples.

I think around this time I had met you briefly in NJ at one of the Elks Lodge shows that my old friend Ralph Jones put on. Were you living in NJ at that point or just visiting?

You’ve mentioned that before and I don’t recall the specific show. I moved out of NJ permanently in ’76. I came back for annual summer visits to NYC, north Jersey and Philly. Some high school friends went to Upsala College, then the home of WFMU. On my first visit back in ’76  I met Irwin Chusid and R. Stevie Moore. Some high school friends were connected to Feelies before they took that name.

Was Blast First! next? I met Pat Naylor once and hung out with her at a show and she was really sweet.

Yeah around the time I left SST, the folks in Sonic Youth called saying that they had left as well. They wanted me to be involved with Blast First! in the U.S. I knew Paul Smith because he released their albums in the UK. Blast First UK released a number of Touch N Go and SST records. The label was a division of Mute which had a  U.S. deal with Enigma. My job was almost entirely “Daydream Nation” promotion. It was so much fun to be able to go deep  with one album. We issued Ciccone Youth shortly afterward, which augmented the overall Sonic Youth story.  The only other active touring band was Band Of Susans and on a limited level, Lunachicks and Big Stick.  It was only one year of work before Enigma cut Mute/Blast First loose. I went on Sonic Youth’s Soviet Union tour and I had a few memorable meetings with Sun Ra. David Bowie called a few times asking about recording studios that Dino Jr and Sonic Youth used.  Bowie had a brilliant idea to record Suicide’s “Dream Baby Dream” with Glenn Branca’s large guitar group. We tried following up on it but Bowie was immersed in Tin Machine and other projects.

Was it on to Geffen then?

Yes, Sonic Youth had good meetings with the label. I had recently met Mark Kates who was championing the signing.  He suggested that I come in to meet the entire company. He brought my name up with David who said, “we need someone like that here”.

I had fleeting thoughts that working for a major was “selling out”...punching corporate clock. I wanted to apply what I knew on a larger scale.  

What was that like, working for a proper major label? Was David Geffen still involved?

On my second day there, David called me into his office. He is down to earth, street smart. Like many of the best in the biz, he didn’t have an attitude.  He had met with the Meat Puppets. He sensed that Dinosaur Jr. was important. I reminded him that I was not hired for a&r.

He said- “I don’t assign job titles. If you find something else you’d like to do here, you can pursue it ‘after 5pm’ ”. I found reissue projects like the Pere Ubu box and Raincoats catalog. I recorded a new Raincoats album.  I signed Southern Culture On The Skids, Garrison Starr, Skiploader. I assembled and recorded Rob Zombie’s Halloween Hootenanny comp. With Sonic Youth, I pondered making records with John Fahey and Townes Van Zandt. After ten years, it was time to move on.

Tell us what you do now, didn’t you get involved with digital music at some point?

Geffen Records was folded into Interscope in 1999 and I was bored with the limitations of the business as it was.  Digital music was gaining ground solely through illegal file trading on Napster. I knew there would be a major shift in the business moving to digital. I worked for the download site. eMusic.com, signing distribution agreements with labels. This was years before iTunes and YouTube. Major labels would not work with us because mp3 files are open source files that could be traded freely without control.  They saw eMusic as a facilitator of illegal file trading. Like marijuana use leading to hard drugs!  In the big picture, I knew that digital downloads weren’t “sexy”.  But at some point, digital music would develop into something easier to track and use. We skipped the major labels. The bigger independent labels understood that digital music would be the future.  It was a great place to be. I knew a lot of music, but I had no idea there were so many labels in every country. One label owner told me that I had the best  job in the world. I knew that to explain this new unproven music format it could be an uphill climb. So I took the time to research label websites for song samples. That way I could find common ground with label owners. There’s surf music in Brazil? There’s a young female cellist duo in Prague that make energetic music? There’s archaic royalty rules connected to opera arrangements? Bring it on!  It certainly changed how I listen to music.

It was a time when business rules and legal rights had to change in order to deal with digital income disbursement. For example, digital downloads could be sold by the song while royalty payments were based on album sales. eMusic was at the forefront of those changes. When iTunes launched, digital music was “legitimized”. Borne out of eMusic was RoyaltyShare which provides a royalty accounting platform for labels. It is now a division of The Orchard and I divide my time between The Orchard and RoyaltyShare.

Who are some current bands you are into?

A loaded question! I listen to a lot of new music. I spend a lot of time listening to records and cd’s in my collection. Of current artists,  I really like Steve Gunn’s music. I listen to the projects involving members of Sonic Youth.  Bill Nace, Kim’s partner in Body/Head is a guitar genius. Body/Head’s music is a cathartic experience for me.  London is lucky to have Thurston Moore living and working there. I think the music they make separately is far more exciting that what Sonic Youth would’ve made if still together.

Lately I’m digging Melenas from Spain, Hayvenlar Alemi from Turkey. Quin Kirchner is a Chicago based  drummer that put out a great jazz record in 2018 called “The Other Side Of Time”. I think he plays on Ryley Walker ‘s records.

Because I’ve spent so much time with the music of Sonic Youth, Branca and Rhys Chatham, I crave the occasional dive into instrumental symphonic guitar army and tonal stuff. Current favorites in that vein are Bosse De Nage, Pelican, Sunn O)))

Given the chance I’ll see any performance by Mary Halvorson, Ches Smith, Marc Ribot or Mary Lattimore.

It took me years to get it, but I’m now a big fan of Keiji Haino’ music.  Dean McPhee is a British guitarist I really like. I just bought a couple of Willie Lane lp’s on Feeding Tube.

I research music history and the development of the industry. There are historical and social components of every type of music by culture, country, time period. I love stories about riots at premieres of new avant garde works. I read a book about famous classical composers in the 18th Century playing home concerts (salons) where people are talking the entire time…but they are paid handsomely for the performance.   Streaming music sites and YouTube are vast repositories of music and cultural documentation.

Do you still make it out to many shows?

I go to two/three shows a month when I’m home and more when traveling especially NY/London. I start work early in the morning so I’m not out late often.  I understand why people see less live music as they get older. I’m done with music festivals. The Big Ears Festival is the only Stateside event that might inspire me to stand for eight hours.

I always hear music by new artists that I really like. I don’t always go to see the live show. Sometimes I hear a new band that sounds like a band  I liked 20 years ago.  I wouldn’t deliberately see a band that uses another band’s sound as a template.

 What are your top 10 desert island discs?

I cannot do 10. It’s 20 or nothing. If you say sorry Ray, it will be nothing. FineJ If I’m on an island, I’ll listen to the ocean waves and sounds of nature. If I’m relegated to a desert, I’ll listen to the blood coarsing through my veins.

Miles Davis- Kind Of Blue

Television- Marquee Moon

Peter Brotzmann- Machine Gun

Sex Pistols -Never Mind The Bollocks

Rolling Stones- Let It Bleed

Soundtrack – The Harder They Come

Billy Harper – Black Saint

Kleenex/Liliput- First Songs

Patti Smith Group -Easter

Hound Dog Taylor & The Houserockers- Houserockin’

Led Zeppelin- Houses Of The Holy

Sonic Youth – Daydream Nation

Elvis Presley- Sun Sessions

The Cramps- Songs The Lord Taught Us

Pell Mell -Flow

Procol Harum- A Salty Dog

Sibelius- Complete Symphonies

Lou Reed -Coney Island Baby

Meat Puppets- Up On The Sun

The Kinks- Kinks Kronikles

 “Hmm....Flow or Star City?”

 Any final words? Closing comments? Anything you wanted to mention that I didn’t ask.

I’ve been involved off and on with the artist Raymond Pettibon for a music project called Supersession. He has made records under this moniker before. This project began in 1990 and stalled for many years. We revived it a couple years ago. I play bass. Raymond wrote many pages of words and lyrics that he passed to the band, encouraging us to write music behind them. It’s different from Raymond’s other records because it is not improvised. Rick Sepulveda, our guitarist is a great songwriter and he wrote music for Raymond’s words. Rick sings a bunch of the songs because Raymond loves his voice. We did a  NYC performance in November that was really fun. So now of course, I’m thinking we should play monthly in L.A. We are nearly finished with the album that we recorded at Casa Hanzo, the San Pedro studio Mike Watt owns with Pete Mazich. Raymond is a brilliant man; fun and inspiring to work with. When I practice with Rick, he’ll often break into a cover song deep in the recess of memory. Like John Cale’s “Hanky Panky Nohow” ,Kevin Ayers’ “Oh Wot A Dream” or the Doors “Wishful Sinful”. We may cover a Harry Toledo song. It’s a blast.  I hope to have the album finished in July.

 Tav, Bobby, Pell Mell and Ray 

[awol-newt]

another wayhaught fic

it's like marrow without bone (to live in a house with no home) Maybe God is God. Maybe the Devil is me. Well, I'll just throw my chains on. And tell myself that I'm free.   - Delta Spirit, "Salt in the Wound"

“I just wanted to be free.”

Nicole knows that voice. It sends chills down her spine as quickly as it makes her blood boil. She knows that voice because she heard it before she got shot.

A WayHaught fic.

“I just wanted to be free.”

Nicole knows that voice. It sends chills down her spine as quickly as it makes her blood boil. She knows that voice because she heard it before she got shot .

(The first time. Not… not this time?

   Huh.

       Where’s Waverly? Wynonna?

           Where is she ?)

“You’re in purgatory,” the voice tells her and she whirls around in a fury, brown eyes narrowing as she takes in the sight of Willa Earp. And then she takes a moment to take in their surroundings.

It’s the sheriff’s station. Lonnie’s desk is still a mess and Nedley’s office door is propped ajar. Her own desk still has two binders, a stack of case files, and a mountain of paperwork on it. The small AM/FM radio clock flashes like it might after a loss of power.

It’s the sheriff’s station and it’s empty. There’s no Nedley or Lonnie or Dov or Chris. There’s no Nash, either. There’s nobody but Nicole and Willa.

She feels it now. The stillness of the air and the heaviness in her chest that threatens to turn into something like panic. She closes her eyes and counts to twenty, inhaling for five and exhaling for five until she feels calmer. When she opens her eyes, she hopes to see Wynonna and Waverly staring at her like she’s lost her mind; it’d be better than the reality, which is cracking an eye open to see Willa staring at her with an aura of impatience and maybe something like resentment.

“You aren’t dead. Yet,” she says. It’s so blasé, the way those words come out of her mouth and the sigh that follows.

Nicole pales and shakes her head. Shakes away the unnerving feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Where are we?” she asks.

Willa rolls her eyes. “I already told you. We’re in purgatory. You know, that annoying place between Down There and Upstairs.”

“Purgatory,” Nicole says again. It isn’t a question this time because she remembers now. Being shot. Again.

Charles Gagnon had marched into the station and pulled a gun on the room, demanding his brother be released from their custody. Henri Gagnon had been arrested the previous night, swerving down Main Street drunker than Wynonna after a shit day. The damned hoser had sideswiped Nicole’s cruiser while she was responding to a 10-71 of suspicious activity at the bank across from Shorty’s. His saving grace was that she hadn’t been in the vehicle when he took off a layer of paint and her side mirror. His downfall was that he panicked, stopped his own car, and tried to make a run for it.

He was caught, of course. She’d marched him down the block to the station, tossed him into the drunk tank, suspended his license, and wrote him a fine. The rest of the night was procedural — dealing with his car and her cruiser, the headache of paperwork that such an incident incurred, and trying not to fall asleep during the last hour of the graveyard shift while she sat at her desk handling said paperwork. Especially since she had to turn around and come back to work that afternoon.

Such is the life of a sheriff’s deputy.

But getting shot — again? That is a hazard of living in Purgatory where just about everybody owns a gun or has access to one. Not to mention the crazies and the supernatural.

Charles Gagnon fell into the former category. A little off his rocker with a short fuse and serious co-dependency issues with his brother. When he began waving the gun around, it was Nicole who stepped forward with her hands raised and her movements as unthreatening as she could make them. She walked slowly towards him, putting herself between Waverly and the madman.

“Let’s just talk this out, Charles,” she had said gently.

She tried to follow the handbook and her police academy training. They’d roleplayed scenarios with gunmen and hostages. And after the situation last year with Wynonna, Shorty, and Champ, she had attended a two-day seminar in the big city with a TAC team. Except none of those things prepared her when he pulled the trigger anyways.

She remembers pushing Waverly to the ground and Wynonna drawing Peacemaker. She remembers falling and another gunshot and then Waverly shouted her name. But then…

Oh.

She fell. The floor was cold and it felt so nice because her shoulder was burning and aching. And then Waverly was there, her Waverly, scrambling to lean over her. Her hands went to Nicole’s shoulder and she pressed. Hard. Nicole screamed. And then…

Then she was here. With Willa freakin’ Earp.

“And she remembers.”

Nicole scowls. “Do you have to be such an asshole? I’m apparently dying and I don’t even know if Waverly and Wynonna are okay!”

Willa’s face softens at the names of her sisters. “They’re fine,” she tells Nicole. “They’re both fine. Wynonna shot the guy who shot you.”

Despite everything that happened following Willa’s return, despite having every reason not to trust her, Nicole believes her. It’s a reassurance that she needs to hear, and it allows her room to consider her current situation more clearly.

“I’m dying,” she murmurs. It’s barely audible but it feels so incredibly loud. Those words. “I’m dying.”

“You’re not dead, yet,” Willa reminds her, gentler this time.

Nicole’s eyes widen.

“I can go back?”

She begins to scan the room, looking for any bright gateway or swirl of lights so she can steadfastly spring in the exact opposite direction. Willa must recognize what she’s doing by her darting eyes.

There’s a sigh and a shake of her head. “It isn’t a choice. This isn’t like on television. It’s out of our control.”

“Is that why you’re still here?”

Nicole blinks and suddenly they’re standing in the Pine Barrens near Purgatory. There’s a heavy layer of snow on the ground and it continues to fall with flurries dusting the evergreens and the branches of the trees that dropped their leaves long ago. It’s quiet and beautiful.

She can’t feel the cold or the wind that rustles the branches and sends them swaying just barely.

“This is my purgatory,” Willa says. “I’ve been here since I crossed the border, since Wynonna…” She trails off, never completing the sentence.

Since Wynonna shot her. Since her sister shot her. Since she made the most foolish mistake of her life. Since she lost everything.

“I just wanted to be free,” she says again, even softer this time.

Nicole recognizes the weight in her voice. Has heard it in her own voice so many times throughout her life. It’s the heaviness of regret, of exhaustion, of sadness, and of defeat. It’s the pull of so many, I’m sorry’s that can never be enough to do what’s been undone.

“Free from Daddy, from the Earp curse, from that godforsaken town. From remembering what I had and what I had lost. Free from having to be anybody but Willa. I just wanted to be free.”

It’s a desperate explanation. It isn’t an apology or imploring for forgiveness. It’s the story of a young girl who had to grow up too fast and be too much too soon, who found pain and darkness in every corner of her world.

Nicole knows something about that. It’s a tale with which she’s very familiar. She isn’t sure she ever really knew what light was until she met Waverly and fell in with Wynonna and got to know Nedley and the rest of the town. Until she found a place that felt like home and people she could call family.

But Willa— Willa never got that chance. To really get free from the machinations of souls older than both of them combined. To find her own light somewhere out there.

She looks at Willa out here, a bright spot of life, morose as she may be, in this vast wilderness and unending white only speckled with forest green and ash gray tree trunks and limbs. And when she blinks again, they’re back in the empty cop shop.

“I wish you’d had the chance to be free without being such a shithead,” Nicole finally says. It isn’t forgiveness but it is understanding and maybe a tinge of sympathy.

Willa laughs. It’s rough and sharp and sounds like it hurts her as much as it disquiets Nicole. “Yeah,” she says. “Except I didn’t have the chance and now I’m here. Waiting for the Universe to decide where I belong or if I’ll never belong anywhere except purgatory.”

“I don’t think anybody belongs nowhere,” Nicole offers, though the optimism sounds uncertain even to her own ears.

Willa shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I have to pay for my sins somehow, right?”

The sadness is clearer now. The despair and defeat that clings to the once heir. It holds tight to her, suffocating like a python’s constriction; each gasp for air brings you a little bit closer to death.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t different.” Nicole means these words.

“Me too.”

It isn’t absolution but it’s something. The grip of sadness loosens just slightly.

There’s a buzz beneath Nicole’s skin. Like the tingling of a limb falling asleep when you sit or sleep funny.

“Do you feel that?” she asks Willa.

And Willa looks at her and cants her head to one side. It’s a Waverly-sort of mannerism, and Nicole feels a sharp tug at her heart.

“The tingling and that chest pain?” she clarifies when Willa doesn’t respond.

The hum of her body grows and grows and it’s starting to become really uncomfortable. It feels kind of like what she imagines being lit on fire might feel like.

“They’re saving you,” Willa finally tells her. “The Universe. My sisters.”

“I’m… I’m not going to die?”

Nicole’s jaw tenses with another lance through her chest.

“You’re not going to die.”

Willa’s voice begins to fade, sounding distant against the blood roaring in her ears. The edges of her vision start to go black as the pain increases exponentially. She hears Willa speak to her one more time and she strains to listen as she squeezes her eyes tight and feels herself begin to fall over.

“Look after them, okay? Tell them that I love them. Both of them.”

And then she wakes up with a jolt, her eyes snapping open to meet the most beautiful hazel eyes she’s ever known.

“Waverly,” she breathes. And it hurts. It hurts and she’s alive.

There’s a steady beeping of machines next to her and her left arm is slinged. Her head is fuzzy and all the lights are soft but she’s alive and Waverly is safe and so is Wynonna and Willa is marginally less awful than she’d thought before she got shot. Again.

“Nicole. You’re awake,” Waverly whispers with a bright smile and tears in her eyes.

“I’m here, Waves,” she says and she can hear her words slur, loosened by whatever drugs they’re pumping through her veins. “I’m alive.”

“You almost died, Nicole. Again. Again! You’re like a cat with nine lives, I swear, Officer Haught.” She pushes from her chair next to Nicole’s bed and paces the length of the small room. She’s exasperated and Nicole can tell she’s a little angry, the emotion warring with the elation that Nicole is awake and alive.

Alive and awake.

“I saw Willa,” she mumbles. “In purgatory. That’s where I went when I was waiting to live or die.”

Waverly slumps back into her seat and reaches for the hand of her not shot-up arm. “What are you talking about, baby?”

She feels the medication even more saliently now. She has to fight against it, the fog that wants to cloud her brain and pull her back under. Part of her is afraid she won’t wake up again.

(It’s going to be a thing, isn’t it?)

What she tries to say is this: “I saw Willa in purgatory. The real limbo, between heaven and hell kind of purgatory. She said she just wanted to be free and I kind of understand that. She wants you to know that she loves you, both you and Wynonna. And she asked me to look after you guys.”

It doesn’t come out that clear and concise but Waverly’s smart and Waverly knows her girlfriend and Waverly knows how to piece together drunken, slurred speech like nobody else. She gets the message and her eyes tear up even more than before.

“She said that?” she asks and the question is so, so soft and scared and hopeful.

Nicole’s head dips in a nod. “She said that.”

Waverly wipes at her eyes and laughs a sad but happy laugh. The words are a lifetime too late but they do mean something. They do begin to patch the hole in her heart that’s been torn through with so much grief and trauma and loss. She laughs again.

“She’s still the worst,” Waverly grumbles.

“Totally the worst.”

Waverly holds tight to Nicole. It’s enough of an anchor and a promise that it feels okay to drift away for just a short while. She’s got Waverly to tether her down so she can float away to dreamland and not fly too far away.

Nicole dreams of falling snow and the smell of evergreens and feels the warmth of a crackling fire in a hearth. She dreams of three little girls with smiles on their faces as they run happy and free.

[hauntedbunkbeds]

Day 4: St. Agatha Island

Day 4, Secret Agent Thriller: Do you hear the James Bond theme? Try to block it out and do your OWN thing!

* The following is an excerpt from my unfinished short story, St. Agatha Island. I look forward to finishing this story when this month of prompts ends.*

St. Agatha Island

There was a foot on the beach. I thought it was a coincidence. After all, who sees a disembodied foot on a beach and thinks, “This is meant for me?” I did the normal thing and called the police.

“This is more common than you’d think,” an officer said to me as a woman in blue latex gloves collected the foot into a red and white Igloo-brand cooler.

“Feet are usually the first thing to disarticulate from the body in water, so we’ll often find the foot of a drowned person well before the torso, head, what have you. Helps if they were wearing shoes, what with the buoyancy of the rubber.”

I nodded and lit a cigarette, a habit I meant to break for forty years until one morning I woke up and realized I could do whatever the fuck I wanted and I would still die sooner rather than later. So, I would take a walk down the beach every morning and smoke a cigarette or two. Sometimes, the discovery of a disembodied foot called for one extra.

“Should I be worried?” I asked the officer.

He shook his head.

“Oh, no,” he said, “This is not the work of some sadistic killer. Or I should say, it most likely isn’t. We’re probably looking at an accidental drowning or a suicide.”

He fished a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me.

“Officer Dave Bailey,” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it.

“Call me Augie,” I said.

“If you do see anything else, feet or otherwise, feel free to give me a call.”

I thanked him and continued my walk home, following the thick tracks his beach cruiser left in the sand.

My home was a weathered little beach house with a long, rickety dock leading out to the water. An old speed boat bobbed in the current at the end of the dock, “Valencia” painted in white cursive on the side. I named the boat Valencia after a woman who thought I was dead, who I still loved.

This was not the retirement I had envisioned for myself, but circumstances change, and we learn to adapt. Life on St. Agatha Island was pleasant enough. It was quiet, and I had always enjoyed being alone. In the mornings I would take my walks, smoking a cigarette, enjoying the elegant kamikaze diving routine of seabirds hunting for breakfast. I spent my long afternoons reading old spy novels, and trying my hand at writing my own. It wasn’t any good, but I enjoyed the process of filling up old yellow legal pads with my chicken scratch handwriting. At night I would pour whiskey into an old coffee mug and take it down to the end of the dock with an old AM/FM radio. At least, the outside resembled an AM/FM radio. The guts were bit of my own concoction. I turned the dial until static gave way to the sound of a man’s voice, pathetically pleading.

Please, can anyone hear me? If anyone can hear me, please send help! Please, is anyone out there? I’m at--

There was the sound of clanging metal, and voices yelling, distant, indistinct.

I took a sip of my whiskey and sighed contentedly, staring out into the gorgeous ocean sunset.

A week had passed when I saw Officer Dave Bailey again. He was standing in line at the overpriced coffee shop I would sometimes sit at when I needed to use the internet. He noticed me sitting at a corner table with my dented silver laptop and raised his eyebrows at me conspiratorially. I gave him a polite wave in return. He got his coffee and made his way over to my table, still with that look on his face, like a child with a secret.

“We ID'd your friend,” he said to me, in lieu of a hello.  

“My friend?” I asked.

“The foot,” he whispered. He gestured to the empty chair across from me and I nodded that he could sit.

“That’s good news,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee and closing my laptop.

 “It is,” he agreed. “Turns out, the guy was reported missing over a year ago.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“But wasn’t it, um,” I struggled with what might be kosher. “It showed no signs of...”

“Exactly!” Officer Bailey exclaimed, agreeing to my incomplete thought. “There was no sign of decay at all. So my thinking is that maybe this guy buys a boat and decides to go off the grid, then a year later, has an accident and drowns.”

Officer Dave Bailey was probably in his mid-forties. He had the tan, weathered skin of someone who had grown up on the beach. You could always pick them out. They looked simultaneously far younger and much older than their age. I could tell he had been on the force for a while. His enthusiasm wasn’t that of a rookie, but of a man who has been bored for a very long time and finally got something to play with. His knowledge about the disarticulation of human feet wasn’t a product of finding his fair share of human feet, as I had originally thought, but of years of downtime spent reading true crime with his feet up on his desk. He reminded me of myself, decades before, and I liked him.

“This will be a huge relief to his family,” I said. “Closure will be valuable as they mourn.”

Officer Bailey nodded.

“In some form or other,” he said, “Robert J. Gould will finally come home.”

I nearly spit my coffee out. I must have looked wild-eyed because Officer Bailey looked taken aback.

“Augie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I...I’m sorry,” I said. I held my hands under the table so he wouldn’t see how they were shaking. “I knew a man by that name. It must just be pure coincidence. The man I knew is already buried in the ground.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. He leaned forward as if he might offer me his hand to hold, but then looked away and took an uncomfortable sip of his coffee.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said. “How were you able to identify the body?”

Officer Bailey perked right back up.

“I completely forgot to mention!” he said. “We found a hand on the other end of the beach not long after your foot. Hands disarticulate just as easily as feet, only they don’t beach as often, so we really got lucky. By another turn of luck, the hand even had a wedding ring on, engraved with two sets of initials and a wedding date. From that we were able to get a match from our Missing Persons database, and better yet, we ran the DNA against the foot, and it was a match!”

“That’s incredible,” I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

“The saddest thing about it, though,” Bailey kept going. “Is the date on the wedding band. It’s only a couple weeks before he disappeared.”

I shook my head. I already knew the date. I would never forget that date.

“His wife must be devastated,” I muttered.

Bailey nodded.

“We hope to get in touch with her soon,” he said.

I could have saved him a lot of trouble, told him they’d never reach her, but I said nothing.

“Well I gotta get moving,” Bailey said. “But I thought you’d like the news. Feels like the Hardy Boys, doesn’t it? Solving mysteries and all that.”

At that I managed a genuine smile.

“I always loved those old books.”

“You have a good day, Augie,” he said, and with a little wave I was alone again.

When I opened my laptop again, I noticed I had a new email. I wasn’t surprised. I knew who it was from before I read the name.

I clicked opened the email, and one sentence taunted me from the screen. One sentence was enough for me to know that my peaceful days on St. Agatha Island were over.

Did you like my little gifts, Robert?

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[rfsak2]

Cactus, Part XIII

Hope ya like it!

Cactus, Part XIII Summary: Success. The Styles Warnings: None.

“So you’re married…”

She nodded, smiling awkwardly at the boy. “I’m married.”

“Seem young.”

He was sixteen and pursuing the dream and she thought briefly to how Harry must have been at this age.

But this kid was not Harry and she’d bet the commission she was making on this gig that his mom was no Anne Twist.

“I’m more than old enough.”

He bit his lip, a move she was sure he thought would make him the next Justin Beiber. “But are you still down to fool around?”

“No.” To her consternation, he was tall so she had to tilt her head all the way back to make stern eye contact. “I am not down to fool around. I’m married and you’re sixteen.”

“Yeah, but… it’s 2019, baby, what does marriage or age even mean anymore?” He attempted to put his hand on her shoulder and she backed away.

“I’m married.” She was trying to be calm. “The only person I want to fool around with is my husband. That’s a good portion of the reason why I married him.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No.”

Jeff Bhasker entered the booth, arms folded across his chest, and stared the kid down. “Look. You’re new around here, but I’m going to explain something. She’s one of the best guitarists of her generation. She has job security. You don’t if you don’t make something good happen here.”

“Yeah, well even if she wasn’t you wouldn’t fire her right, given who her-”

“It has absolutely nothing to do with who she’s with and it’s ridiculous to think so. Her being married to someone doesn’t make her any less of more talented. So listen to me: I literally will throw you out of this studio if you don’t straighten out and stop harassing her. You have done nothing to make me feel desperate to keep you. On the other hand, she had somewhere in the range of 200 song credits to her name. I’m desperate for her to stay.”

“But-”

“No.”

Her phone rang, a recording of Harry just saying her name over and over playing in the tense silence. She glanced at Jeff and he motioned her out. “I’m gonna continue talkin’ to my man here. See if we can’t come to some agreement.”

“Hey baby.” She closed the door to the booth and stepped out into the hallway. “What-”

“Monster, I know that you’re in studio but listen-” There was a shuffle as he pulled the phone from his ear.

All of a sudden, she could hear the first line of Expectations filtering through the phone.

I was never expected

“Holy Shit, baby!! It’s my song!”

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “I know, love. Congratulations!”

“What radio station are you on?” She rushed back into the studio where Jeff was still discussing with the kid. She pulled up iHeartRadio on the computer, taking Jeff’s chair.

“KIIS-FM.”

“What? Seriously? No fuckin’ way, baby!” Jeff poked his head out of the booth and Jamie waved him over. “Really?”

She hit play as Jeff rounded the table, coming to stand next to her, the kid lurking in the door to the booth. “What’s goin’ on?”

If I sold myself short-

“Jamie-Wamie!” Jeff grinned. “That’s your song!!”

She nodded.

“Who’s tha’, love?”

“Jeff.” Harry made a noise to indicate that he had heard as they all quieted down to listen, a bright smile on her face.

When the song was over and she was discretely wiping at her eyes, the DJ came on. “That was Spike & Devil with Expectations. What a beauty of a song, amirite?”

Whoever was in the studio with the DJ sighed. “It is, that little sigh at the end? Like she’s relieved that she said it. So romantic. It just gets me.”

“Now that is the lone track on the band’s new album sung by the guitarist, Jamie Schwartz-”

“Wait Jamie Schwartz, like-”

“Yep.”

“So it’s about-”

“Yep.”

The guest chuckled. “I didn’t know she had that in her. Put that in your juice box and suck it, amirite? A great big romantic ‘[bleep] you’ to anyone who doubted her or doubted Harry Styles. I mean.. Sh[bleep].”

“I don’t think anyone thought she had that in her, but she’s really talented and the band sounds fantastic and the song is great. The entire album, Getting Older it’s called, is actually really good. It’s blown up on Spotify and the hashtags Spike&Devil, Expectations and Backroads are trending on social media. Speaking of, here’s the other song on the album that people are expecting: Spike & Devil- Backroads. This is KIIS-FM-”

She grinned. “Holy shit!” Matt’s voice was still playing on the speakers, softly.

I’m not defined by that backroad.

“I’m at th’studio, love. Which one are you in?”

“We’re in 205.” She set down the phone as he hung up with a muttered ‘See yeh in a mo’, love’ and drummed her hands on the armrests of the chair, all restless energy and high emotions. “Holy shit.”

Jeff held his hands up and she gave him a double hi-five. “Damn, girl! Good work!”

The door opened and she jumped out of the chair, throwing her arms around Harry’s neck. Laughing, he lifted her against him, arms secure around her waist.

“Baby, they’re playing our songs!!”

He grinned against her neck and squeezed her. “They sound so good, love, so good.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m so bloody proud of you!”

She leaned back and smiled, one hand coming up to wipe at her eyes. “Holy shit!”

Jeff looked over at the kid. “That’s what you were trying to get her to step out on, kid. Think about it. It ain’t gonna happen.”

**

“I’ve got another radio station wantin’ you to come in and do an interview about Expectations.”

She sighed, sipping her tea, her legs thrown over Harry’s lap. He eyed her over his cup. “Y’kay, love?”

She nodded and put the phone on speaker. “Just me?”

Jorge uh-huh’d.

“Tell them no. I’m part of a band. If they want to talk music, they need the whole band.”

“Okie dokie, mama. Can do. How’re you two holding up?”

She sat up and curled against Harry’s side. “Yeah, we’re fine. It was just starting to calm down a bit and all. Now with all of this… It just started back up again. Harry got mobbed the other day. Wanted to know if I’d told him that I was writing the song. As if I wouldn’t tell my own damn husband.” She scoffed. “Now apparently people think the song was meant as a subtle dig at Taylor Swift and that Harry’s angry with me for it.”

Harry rubbed a hand over her thigh and kissed her head.

“Yeah, that sucks. They know y’all are married yet?”

She laughed. “No strangely enough. There have been plenty of pictures of ‘Haz’s new ring’ and even a couple blurry one’s of mine, but no one has put two and two together quite yet.”

Harry huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “No they wouldn’t care about that, would they, love? Makes me boring, tha’.”

“I don’t think it makes you boring, baby.” She winked at him.

“They’d rather make shit up. We already knew that though. Okay, girl. I’ve got to get Esteban from school, he’s got that allergy test today.”

“Oh no bueno. Not fun at all. Poor kiddo.”

“Tell ‘im I hope he aces it.”

Jorge chuckled. “Not sure how to ace an allergy test…”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, well it’s a conundrum. Which answer’s right? I’ve gotta know!”

“I’ll ask the doctor and get back to ya, bro.” He chuckled and there was a sound like a car door opening. “Hey, m’hijo, you wanna say hi to Tia and Tio?”

“Hi Tio! Hey Titi, I think I’m gonna take orchestra next year.”

She smiled. “What instrument d’ya think you want to play, guapo?”

“Duh… guitar. Papi said that Abuelo has one of your old guitars, the one’s you used when you were little, can I use that instead of getting one from the school?”

“Yeah, course y’can. You’ll have to get your dad to take it by the shop and see if it needs new strings.”

Jorge’s voice sounded distant. “Will do.”

“Next time I’m in SA, I’ll teach you the basics.”

“Tio, can do it too, yeah?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I can help, for sure.”

“Okay, you two, I’m about to get on 1604 and it’s a madhouse as usual. I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Te amo.”

“Te amo.”

She set down the phone and laid her head on his shoulder. He adjusted the blanket to cover her better and leaned his cheek against her hair. “So, wha’ kind of guitar are we buying Esteban for Christmas?”

She smiled. “I was just thinking about that. We want somethin’ nice but not too nice, right? It’s gonna get beat to shit no matter what.”

Nodding, Harry rubbed his hand over her thigh under the blanket. “Should we get a full-size, y’think?”

“Yeah. The way that kid grows he’ll outgrow my old child guitar by then.”

Harry sipped at his coffee. “What’s botherin’ yeh, love?”

She smiled against his shoulder. “I’m just frustrated with all this media crap. I didn’t think they pull this shit- honestly, I never even thought they’d have a reason to pull this shit, we didn’t send the album to mainstream radio ‘cause we didn’t think they’d be interested and now I wish they hadn’t gotten their hands on it.”

She huffed. “Now they’ve made what I thought was a really clear, and really bloody personal song into a go at a woman I’ve got nothing against or an industry that I hate admittedly, but I didn’t write a song for them, I wrote it for my family.” She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s just really frustratin’.”

He nodded and leaned over to kiss her. “I figured it was that.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and curled back into his lap. “Now there are all these trash journalists askin’ for interviews like I’m gonna sit there and let them drag us, the band, the song through the mud. Like I’m expected sit and be pretty and just stew in this catch-22. I can’t deny because I look guilty and I won’t confirm because it’s not true. I can’t win.”

He smiled softly down at her. “Do you regret writing it?”

“No, of course, not.” She shook her head against his shoulder. “I needed for you to hear it, I wanted you to hear it. I just regret puttin’ it on the album… sometimes. I regret this shit-storm. I should’ve just kept it for us or somethin’.”

“But the song is puttin’ yeh on the map, love. People are listenin’ and you and the band deserve to be heard.” He kissed her hair. “I think yer gonna be on Grammy watch, if yeh ask me. The critics have received it well.”

She snorted. “That’s silly-”

“It’s a beautiful song, love.” Harry shrugged. “Yeh know yer allowed to be successful, right, monster? Yer allowed to do good work.”

“Am I though? I know you think so, but no matter what I do, what I accomplish there’s always going to be someone sayin’ that-”

“It was me who did it” He paused and shrugged. “Yer right, but doesn’t mean that yeh shouldn’t do it. Every time Liam, Lou or Niall or me ever did anythin’, there was someone bringin’ up Simon.”

“I just don’t want to…” She paused and sat back so she could look at his face. “I love you, with everything I am, I love you. I don’t like the idea that there’s someone out there who still thinks that I’m only with you for a leg up. I don’t like feelin’ like we have to constantly defend, to constantly have to validate our relationship.”

He smiled. “I know tha’, love. I know tha’ yeh love me and I love yeh the same way. Yeh don’t have to validate anythin’. We don’t owe them anythin’. I know tha’ yer the woman I will be with until I’m old and gray or I wouldn’t ‘ave married yeh. I know tha’ yer th’future mother of my children or I wouldn’t ‘ave married yeh.”

He kissed her. “However, yeh ‘ave th’right to be successful and yeh ‘ave the right t’do wha’ yeh love and live yer life th’way yeh want. I am gonna be right there with yeh for every bit of it.”

Jamie leaned in for a kiss. “So what should I do? How should I handle this?”

“Well, let’s get yeh some place where you can be honest and get this out there.”

**

“Tonight we have Spike & Devil with us. They are the indie band out of Nashville that is taking radio by storm. They’re going to play us their two new hit songs and we’re going to talk about their album Getting Older, specifically why they named the album Getting Older,” James snickered, “considering they are all under the age of thirty, and I may yet convince them to participate in a round of Flinch.” James winked at the camera and grinned.

The camera panned in on Jamie’s face as she shook her head frantically and mouthed ‘help me,’ standing behind her guitar.

Backstage, headphones on, Harry snickered into his fist.

“But first, Spike & Devil playing Backroads.”

This was Matt’s magnus opus, a song Jamie had told Harry he’d spent years on. It straddled a line between rock and country and it showed off four very talented musicians to the best of their ability.

No one who watched Spike & Devil perform Backroads could doubt the legitimacy of their talent.

Jamie loved the song and Harry loved watching her play it, enjoying every bounce and the way she leaned over the guitar, bracing it against the inside of her thigh (where he was fairly certain he’d left a hickey this morning) so she could keep the guitar steady for the complicated guitar solo.

She was ridiculously beautiful behind a guitar, doing what she loved. She was ridiculously beautiful wearing the rings he put on her finger, doing what she loved.

The song ended and James called them over to the couch. Offering the others coffee, he grinned down at Jamie.

“So I made you tea, dear, because I know you don’t drink coffee.”

She smiled. “Thanks, James.”

James and took his seat. “So in the interest of journalistic integrity, though I’m not sure I apply necessarily, I know Jamie personally. She and her special someone have had dinner with my wife and I a number of times. In fact Dante has also had dinner at my home. Nice to see you again, Dante.”

Dante grinned. “Nice to see you too.”

“Lets just do a quick introduction.” James motioned to Matt who sat on the far side of the couch.

Matt smiled and Harry grinned, he could practically hear every person in the audience and on the crew attracted to men melt. He was Classic™; blonde, blue-eyed with a jaw like an anvil. “I’m Matt Reeve-” He paused. “What else should I say?”

James shrugged and Matt looked hilariously panicked. “I’m from Knoxville, Tennessee… I’m 27.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“He’s single, ladies.” Jamie leaned forward to pick up her tea with her left hand and cradling it against her chest, the rings on her finger was more apparent to the audience members with seats at the front.

Dante huffed. “Jamie…”

She shrugged and sipped her tea. “Gotta help my sisters out, yeah?”

The women in crowd cheered.

Tommy, tall, dark, handsome and earnest, chuckled. “Tommy Lazert, I’m from Louisville, Kentucky. I’m 25.”

“Also single.”

Tommy grinned. “Am I?”

She sipped her tea and considered him for a moment. “Yes. I fairly positive.”

“You don’t know though.”

“Fair enough. He may or may not be single, ladies.” She shrugged. “It’s a mystery! Adds to the fun.”

Dante, who always managed to balance hipster and relevant, hat sat on top of his afro and big thick, frame glasses sat on his absurdly perfect nose, shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. I’m Dante Schwartz. I’m from San Antonio. I’m 24. I’m her brother… yes. Her brother. We were both adopted.” He grinned down at Jamie’s head. “I’m single, to spare her the trouble.”

“And Jamie you?” James grinned.

“Me? I’m decidedly not single.”

The crowd cheered, the word of the rings having passed from those in front.

Harry grinned, proud of this tiny woman he got to call his.

“Introduce yourself, Jamie. To be fair.”

Jamie smiled coyly against the rim of her cup. “You know my name, I’m also 24 and I’m also from San Antonio.”

James grinned. “Come now… Don’t be shy. You know, maybe not everyone in the crowd knows your name.”

“Here’s hoping.”

Laughing, James sipped his coffee. “You never know though… Does it feel like everyone knows everything about you?”

“Not all the time no. I think we managed to keep some things to ourselves longer than expected.” The rings on her finger glinted as if on cue and she arched an eyebrow. “However, I was in a store the other day and someone I’d never met before asked me if I liked the pasta I bought last week-”

“Maybe they saw-”

“That I bought last week at a completely different store half-way across LA.”

The crowd laughed.

“What did you do?”

She shrugged. “I mean I wasn’t angry or anythin’, just a bit caught off guard. It’s awkward. I think I stuttered out that my husband liked it more than I did… something like that.”

The crowd lost its collective shit.

James grinned. “And what was your name again?”

The blush on her face told Harry that she hadn’t really meant to say that. Regardless, he didn’t really think he’d ever get over hearing her call him that.

In for a penny, I guess.

“Technically my stage name is Jamie Schwartz.”

James rolled his eyes. “But when you, say, sign for a package at the post office, what do you sign?”

“I still sign ‘Jamie Schwartz’ by accident… and then I have to cross out ‘Schwartz’ and scrawl ‘Styles’ above it. All the while, Harry’s laughing at me and telling me my handwriting makes him look like he married a child.”

“That’s specific.”

“It happened this morning.” She shrugged and sipped her tea.

Part XII Up Next: An Interlude

[semitura]

Family (War-rock’s POV)

I needed a happy Megaman StarForce fic so here ya go. Enjoy.

I took like….almost 2 and a half hours to write this shit.

Warning: Megaman StarForce 3 spoilers I guess.

Warning 2: My English writing sucks.

Warning 3: Mixes game and anime canon. And some hadcannons.

Warning 4: Is sad at the beggining but I swear that it gets happy… eventually

“It is time for me to…destroy Meteor G…”

His voice sounds tired, but so am I… this is the end. I have stay awake, or the Denpa-Henkan will come undone.

…

I wake up, in the middle of the lonely, cold and yet so familiar landscape of outer space. How long have I’ve been out? The last thing I remember…a red flash of light. Speaking of memories, why does my head hurt so much? And, more important… 

I’m alone.

“Subaru?”

No…nonono….nononononononono

A human can’t survive without oxygen! Subaru… when the heck did we split out? I don’t remember undoing the Denpa-Henkan. Was it…a natural thing? Who cares? Subaru is in danger. I gotta find him, quick.

But where do I even begin? What can I do? Shit, I can’t even read hi-. That’s it, his wave! But I can’t sense it… is it already too late? No, I can’t think like that. He never gave up, so neither I will.

Come on, kid, you gotta be alright…

Why do I feel so bad? Why do I have such a bad feeling and yet I’m tring to don’t give up hope?… Last time I felt something like this… that’s right, when Cygnus Wing defeated us. When I came back even if you told me not to. When I made the choice to stay at your side and fight together. When I even handed him Andromeda just to keep you safe… Wait, I feel something.

T-this wave…..

“Daigo?”

I turn to see a very familiar face, carrying over Subaru’s body.

“He’s fine, I dunno how, but seems like Meteor G transformed his body into waves temporally. He only needs to rest for now”

There he is. I… What do I say? What do I do? I’m the reason he was trapped in Meteor G. It was my fault his space station was destroyed in the first place. But… I’m also the reason he is still alive, right? I saved him. I saved his life. I-…

“I’m glad to see that you two are okay”

I meet his eyes. Daigo’s smile is warm, just like Subaru’s. Why do I feel like my chest just got lighter? Maybe is because they can finally return. Daigo can go back. Subaru can go back. They can return to their home. Subaru will get his dad back. Daigo will get his wife and son back. Deep inside, I can feel something is wrong. Me. Can I return? Am I allowed to? Why Daigo is not saying anything? 

He’s just… staring at his son, with a worried face.

Finally, the silence gets broken.

“War-rock, we… we can’t go back”

What?!

“The waves are too strong here. I guess destroying Meteor G was enough to mess arround with the space wave. But maybe… there’s a chace to save him”

Subaru. We can save him, but….

“What about you, Daigo?”

He looks at me and just smiles.

“Me? I’ll go back. I just have to wait a little bit longer. But it’s fine, at least I won’t be alone”

He’s not wrong but… how much time are we gonna have to spend here? How much time are we gonna be trapped? I… this is wrong. We were supposed to go home together…..We?

“Subaru…Open your eyes…”

So we’re gonna try that, huh?

“For cryin’ out loud! How long are you planning on sleeping!?”

“…Dad…War-rock…”

I can still sense that he’s tired. But I’m glad he can at least speak.

“Everyone back on Earth is waiting for you to come home. This is no time to be taking a nap,son”

Geez Daigo, you just stole the words from my mouth.

“It looks like the whole world has set the same Purpose”

I’ve been sensing some weird and strong wave calling his name. Calling for Subaru. It’s weird, but it feels kinda familiar.

Where have I felt that wave before?

“And thanks to that there is a ton of energy being sent from the planet”

“Is the energy that’s formed when Purposes are set. There is so much this time. I guess you can call it a Purpose wave…”

Hey, I wanted to name it.

“If War-rock and I combine our power, we should be able to get you back to Earth”

“Wait! What about you and War-rock!?”

“…”

I’m sorry, Subaru

“…I’m… definitely coming home. You go back first and tell Akane…I mean your mother… That I’ll be home soon.”

You don’t know that. Why are you lying?… Oh, right.

“And say hello to your friends for me”

“Goodbye kid.”

Ack, why am I getting emotional? I’m gonna see him again. I’m gonna return.

I’ll go back with Daigo. This isn’t farewell, just a see you later!!!!

“Our time on Earth together was short, but it was one heck of a wild ride”

What am I saying? I’m gonna see him again! I’ll definetly go back! I have… I have to make sure Daigo gets home! So then why do I feel that’s something is wrong? Now that I think of it...

“Go on, skedaddle!. Everyone is waiting for you”

...no one will miss me anyway. Nobody is waiting for me. But even if that’s the case... Why do I want to go back? ... heh, I guess that’s because I have no other place to go back to.

“You did an amazing job…I’m so proud to be your father!”

I can relate. I’ve seen him going from a kid that didn’t want to go to school to a hero that saved his planet three times already. 

Way to go, Su!

Daigo smiles and lets go of his son from a tight hug before letting him float in the infinite space.

“Dad!! War-rock!!!”

I can see him trying to reach us with his right hand, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

Why… Why can’t I move? Why… Why do I want to grab his hand? He’ll be fine, right? He’ll be safe, right? So why….

Why am I so worried about him?

…Why…am I….so…….ti….red…?

I can feel my body going heavier, as the vision of Subaru still trying to reach us gets blurry.

“War-rock!…”

…I feel something warm holding my body, and feels like he never wants to let it go.

“War-rock! Don’t give up! Please, answer me! War-rock! You…You have to go back! You have to go back with me! You… you already are part of my family! Of our family! You have to go back with Subaru, Akane and me! So please…”

…What is it saying? I… I feel so confused. But… this wave feels like….

”…d…dad…?”

…This wave… feels familiar. So familiar…I feel so sleepy….

“…. i’m……tired……”

I can feel a warm wave. Is…someone smiling at me?…

“…Go rest, then”

“….mhh….’night…..dad”

“Good night…. son”

I close my eyes…

………where?

I feel dizzy. What happened? I remember sending Subaru home and then… and then…

What then? It’s all pitch black in my memory… And why does my body feel so heavy?

Whoa, I really feel like one of those ‘hungovers’ Subaru once talked me about.

How long have I been out? Why does this whole situation feel so familiar?

“Oh, you’re awake”

A familiar and warm wave greets me. I turn arround to see Daigo, sitting just at my side.

Why do I feel like I’ve been watched by him all this time?

“Daigo? Where are we? What happened? How long have I been out? What happened to Su-”

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down! I’m not 20 questions!”

“Daigo, this is serious”

“I know, sorry, ahahahahahaha.”

Why is he laughting?

“First of all, we are inside of Pegasus. I carried you over here. About how long you’ve been out… eeeh….two…”

“Two?” 

in days, right?

“Two weeks”

“WHAT?!”

“Two WHOLE WEEKS?! What the HECK?! Why I’ve been gone for so LONG? Why aren’t we home?. No, why aren’t YOU home?”

“Calm down, Rock!”

His arms grab my shoulders, shaking me a little bit. I’m starting to get a little bit dizzy….

“You idiot…”

Daigo’s arms warp arround my body before I can even notice.

“W-wha th-Daigo?”

Why are you hugging me?

“I was worried about you, you know?”

“…w-worried about me?…That’s why you stayed?”

Daigo only nods, trying to smile but with a face of worry instead.

“…you…you reminded me of Subaru”

“Eh?”

Wait, now I’m lost

“You know, when Subaru was 4 he got really sick. He had a lot of fever and I even had to quit working at NAZA to take care of him! I was so worried that I couldn’t sleep at night. I was so worried of losing him…I was so scared. I kept thinking ‘What if he never gets better?’ But… you know, I had to be strong. I had to be strong for Akane. She even told me to go to work every day and that she would take care of him, but I trully couldn’t do it. I told her ‘I’m his father and I want to be there for him! You don’t have to take care of him by your own’.”

“Sounds familiar…”

“I guess it does. When he finally got better, I spent a week calling Akane, asking for him. I was afraid of he getting ill again. But deep inside, I knew that my son got stronger from that experience. He even went so far as doing P.E even when he still had some fever!”

“…D…Daigo…”

“…Also, I have to ask you something”

“What is it?”

“Did you have a father?”

“I…I’m not sure. I don’t remember. I can’t seem to recall anything from my home planet.”

“Home… planet?”

Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t know.

“I’m from planet AM, actually, but I was raised in FM”

“And you don’t remember anything from planet AM?”

“Well, I can remember it exploding… but that’s it”

“You had to be pretty small”

“You humans may not remember the first years of ya life, but we are different.”

“So… why don’t you remember anything?”

“Ahahahahahahaha, oh boy if I knew. I’m not even sure myself. I just… don’t”

“…Okay, that answers my question. Well then”

He stands up, cleanning his knees.

“Shall we… go home?”

A hand is offering me to stand up. I take it.

“Yeah… let’s go, daaaa-.D-Daigo! Yeah, that’s what I meant!”

Why am I blusing? Was I going to call him dad?!

“Ahahahaha”

A loud laugh fills the room.

“Sure, son”

…. In what kind of mess am I now?

My heart would be racing if I had one. We’re finally going home! I hurry up to Earth’s atmosphere.

I can see a school. In the roof…

Subaru!!!!

I clash against Subaru, knocking him down.

“Huh?!”

He looks so confused and happy at the same time…

“Heh heh heh…Hey, kid!! I’m back!!”

I’m so happy… finally!!

“War…..rock!?”

Subaru… I’m so glad you’re okay….

“WAR-ROCK!!!!”

Before I know it, I’m already hugging him.

“This isn’t a dream, right!? You’re really back!? I thought I’d never see you again!!”

That’s not true. I’m sure you were waiting for me.

“Heh heh heh!! Did you think that I would kick the bucket so easily?!”

I let go, tired. Am I…crying? I clean my eyes. I’m really happy to see him again.

“Oh yeah…”

Oh shit I forgot about him

“Someone else should be here any minute now”

We finally got back…..

“What?!”

…..together, right…..

“Y-you mean….”

….Daigo?

I look at the sky, as Subaru runs at my side.

A blue shooting star appears in the sky.

“Ah, there he is!! You might want to put your baseball glove on, kid!!”

I didn’t teach him how to land, right?….

whoops

“What?! A-again?!. W-w-whoooooaaa!!”

As a blue flash of light fades away, the figure of a man standing up appears.

“Geeez Rock, next time tell me how to land!!”

“Hehehehehehe, sorry Daigo!”

“Uuugh”

Subaru stands up, strike two for him.

“One more and you’ll be out!”

“S-stop jocking arro-…”

The kid looks as his father hugs him, with tears falling from his face.

“…I…I’m back, son”

… Subaru, not you too!

“… y…W-welcome back,dad”

I feel… weird. I’m happy for them, but… why do I feel like this?

Am I…jealous?

“Look at us, here crying at the ground. Let’s stand up, ok?”

And so they do.

“I…I can’t belive you’re actually back…I can’t belive…”

“I made a promise, right? I’m a man of word!”

“D-dad… L…..Let’s go home, okay?”

“Yeah… let’s go”

Why…Am I having this kind of thoughts?

I don’t fit. I’m not supposed to be here, I sh-

“Come on War-rock!”

“Subaru?”

“Come on, we gotta go home!”

“…h…home…”

That’s right.

We walk into the familiar streets and arrive to a familiar house.

“Moooom!!”

Subaru…

“Wash your hands, Sub-….!?….War-rock!?”

Akane…

“Akaneeeee!! I’m hoooooome!!”

“There’s some else too”

“Eh?”

I look at Subaru and we smile at each other

And so, he goes into the room.

“I’m sorry I took so long”

“Daigo…”

“I’m home, honey”

Daigo….

“I’m finally home” 

I’m finally home.

I have a family now…

“Okay, everyone say cheese!!”

“D-Daigo, you’re chocking me!”

…Hoshikawa War-rock…

“Cheeeeese!!!”

…Sounds cool.

"Ka-ching! Printing photo…”

[martinlawless]

Maldon Road Race

Regional B Road Race, Cat 3-4, Sunday 7 October 2018

Maldon is miles away. This race is further on, and deep into the Dengie Peninsula. It’s rolling terrain, not unlike Hertfordshire. It’s so far to the coast, you can see the expansive Thames estuary full of little boats at the peak of the course. It turns out this is the last Eastern Road Race League Regional B... ‘Reggie B’… event in the calendar, as the flat all-out race in Kings Lynn in Norfolk that was supposed to follow got cancelled.

This race is on the same day as Ashwell’s cyclo-cross race event and I feel bad that I’m not there to help or represent the club. But as it’s the last road race of the season I need 4 points - a 7th place or higher - to achieve 2nd Category status. So needs must! It’s a big ask. 57 riders, including ones I know who are in superb form.

This race would be different to my other local road races as we had a team. Dave was here. Though he was still pretty banjaxed by his virus. Steve was back for more to build on his 15th place at last week’s race over at Great Barford. And Alastair joined the ranks to help the team, flex his strength in a different way from his amazing feats on the Etape du Tour and Haute Route and - I suspect - get on with quickly getting to 3rd Cat and beyond.

It’s a long drive down with the heating on full blast to melt the ice off the windscreen. Chilly. I’m mostly skipping caffeine and high sugar drinks like beetroot juice at the moment. So it’s porridge, apples, bananas and Heart FM acting like some pacifier to calm the nerves.

I arrive and park up to meet Steve’s Ashwell battle-bus with my three team mates inside. As I approach, Dave presents me with fresh coffee and Steve is oiling up his legs in the back. It’s not quite the Sky team bus, but if he had installed a big screen at the front, and I’d put on a pair of ‘Dave Brailsford glasses’ on and waved a jiffy bag around, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

I get kitted up in the bright, fresh sunshine. As I ponder on whether to go long socks or short, and whether the new sunglasses match my Kask Mojito helmet, I sigh that I’ve gone ‘well roadie’ and am a million miles away from the cycle-cross scene going on at this moment with its blood, guts and muddy thunder. The high-white of my socks mismatches the off-white of my shoes. It troubles me.

We collect our numbers. Alastair signed on as reserve but easily gets a place. Ahead of a 10-minutes twiddle on the rollers to warm up, we chat about plans. Dave’s plan is to beat the virus and hold on. I say to Alastair and Steve that any friendly wheel at any point in the race is welcome and if either of them fancy a bunch sprint, give me a sign just before and see if I can catch their draft. Alastair is up for the experience and to pounce on an opportunity. Steve I think is honing in on a big result soon. Other than that: we all agree to let’s just enjoy this one.

There doesn’t appear to be any teams on the start sheet out in force. So the guess is that this will be another bunch dominated race with nothing too tactical going on.

We set off - eventually - having had to wait for the Regional A 2/3/4 race to pass so we don’t clash. Nearly half an hour after being called together, everyone’s warming-up is undone and some skinny riders are shivering. But we get underway and after what seems like a long neutralised start behind the lead car, we get to racing speed and we are definitely warm then.

The course is quite technical in parts. The roads are often tight. There are some big twists and turns too. But there’s no significant hill. Each of the four laps had a rhythm. Long fast TT-style eastern run. Single file. Warp Factor 9. Twisty-tight northern lanes into a headwind. Gently descending western blast, that was essentially a breather. Then more twists and turns south on a narrow lane. 4.5 laps. 47 miles.

I found the start hard. Partly through the waking up cold legs. Partly out of sheer lack of max power. I do what I can to stay top 10 or so and not get caught up with weaker riders behind. It’s clear from the off that Steve and Alastair are on a different wattage plane. They are bouncing around the very front effortlessly and it’s pleasing to watch, whilst gasping several places back.  

There are sustained attempts to break off the front by all sorts of riders in mixed teams. But it’s pretty clear none will stick as the bunch are having none of it. Alastair and Steve do more than their fair share of work to break things down here whilst watching and plotting for opportunities to break away themselves. I simply can’t play that strategy and stick in the bunch. I just watch out for a big break which I vow to make an effort to tag on to if it happens, but a smaller one would be too much for me and I have to let them go.

Hiding away as I am, I do find myself on the front for a minute or two after Steve encourages me to break out of the pack to free him up from a tight peloton position. He asks me to chase down a big fella who had a fondness for mad wattage-bazooka bursts off the front. I recall this bloke from previous races. There ain’t nothing tactical about it. He just loves doing it. Following his speeding wheel I find myself right on the nose of the bunch chasing him down. I pretend I do 26mph into a headwind for fun, before breakfast, for about 30 seconds and then apply a burst of power before sliding over to let the riders behind destroy the soloist’s impossible break.

There’s a new sensation in the bunch, while riding with team mates. There’s a bit of a forcefield around us. In part, because we seek each other out, in part because I think the bunch respect team mates desire to position together. There may be something about increased confidence too. I’m not sure. Anyway, it’s good to be able to chat and suss out the situation as we pelt along. ‘We’re only doing 100 watts!’ complains Alastair as the peloton drifts asleep a bit. I chortle to myself and reckon that Al and Steve are probably breakaway specialists and it’s where they’ll get their best results. Later on in the next lap, Steve crests the high point of the course with five other riders and they turn a gap into a break. Now it’s getting interesting.

Instinctively, Al and I assume the roles of breakaway management in the pack. Al being way more capable than me. As Steve extends the gap from the bunch, Al and I work to breakdown any chasing. It’s win-win: we either help Steve escape, or else Al and I enjoy saving energy by being out of any challenge to the break if it’s bridged.

The break almost works. It stays away for nearly a lap, but in the fast TT-section, it’s undone and we meet Steve again. I pat him on the back for a good go at it and hope his legs are not spent for the rest of the race.

As expected, the collapse of one break brings instant opportunity for fresh legs to immediately spark a new break attempt. There’s a bit of bustling up front. I watch as several riders seem to form a string ahead. It’s not unnoticed by Alastair and I tell him what he’s thinking: that there could be a second break and he should go for it. From several places back in the bunch, he jumps to the top as effortlessly as pressing a button in a lift. I can only watch in the bunch. More hiding, more energy conservation.

This break doesn’t quite work out. Al reckons there were too many in the group and the abilities were mixed. It’s hauled in and we’re back all together again as the bell lap is rung. Third gel, swig of juice and here we go.

This final lap sees valiant attempts to create a last minute break, but no attempt is realistic. We get to the final third of the lap and a familiar sensation takes over my legs. It feels similar to cramp. But it’s nerves. My legs feel like blocks of wood and turning the pedals feels alien. I stay around the top 10-15 riders all the same. Then, out of the blue, Steve absolutely flies by and beyond the bunch. It’s the most impressive application of power so late in the race. My nerves are dispelled as Al and I leap into the imminent shelter of opposing riders’ wheels, hustling to stop this solo break. Of course, Steve is hauled in. But it was a brave move and really helped his team mates.

We turn and face the final hill before the finish. We all take this fairly steadily, considering. We are spreading across both lanes now. So everyone is a little on edge. We get to the top and the speed begins to crank up. There’s less than 1.5 miles to go.

It’s getting faster and faster. We are now wide across both lanes of traffic and there’s a strong diagonal echelon all across the road heading towards the 90 degree turn off the usual lap, for a 300 metre dash for the line on a slight uphill road.

I’m behind the main thrust of the wedge of riders, that contains Al and Steve. And there’s no way through. There’s a mile to go. I recall a similar position in the King’s Lynn race last year and drop right out of the back of the galloping echelon and go all the way to the furthest right side of the road. Sure enough, there’s a small gap close to the verge. It’s tight but there’s no other way forward. I’m conscious that the need to be up front on the left turn is everything here, so there’s no dilly-dallying. I give it beans to get through the gap along with two others. Then there’s a huge slice of luck. A transit van appears, coming in the other direction. It instantly changes the shape of the peloton as they tighten up into one lane. For many riders, it’s all over for them. They’ll be way back. If I had waited a few more seconds, I’d be around 30th and out of the running. As it is, I’ve launched myself just in front of the menacing peloton. There’s another slice of luck: one of the other riders who broke out with me chooses to ‘go long’ and TT it off the front. So, he’s leading the way, I’m behind his wheel and the echelon is right on top of us both.

I have to play with the situation I’ve been given. We pass the lonely house I’d marked out as the 20 seconds before the left turn point. I yell at the rider in front to keep going and not to drop his pace. I glance back at the peloton and I pretend that I’m saving myself for a big sprint and waiting for them to blink first to fool the bunch that I’m poised to go even faster - all in an attempt to stop them sprinting for as long as possible. I need to make that corner in a top position. I glance down at the speedo and see we’re at 32mph and figure we’ll be at the corner sooner than I thought so feel confident I can hold this pace having done some similar sprint work at Welwyn Wheelers’ excellent road racing coaching sessions.

Amazingly, the corner comes into view and me and the TTing guy in front have kept our places. I’m also in a perfect line to take the corner. As we approach it, sprinters at last break out of the echelon and swing by to my right. But then there’s another slice of luck: they all follow a bad line and underestimate the turn. One guy rides into the verge, and several others brake hard. Their race is over. I’ve not touched my brakes on the turn and am able to smoothly assume a low, aggressive position in the drops for the last 300 metres.

A few get around me, but I pass some of them again in the sprint. I am super aware this is a golden chance and that it’s now or never. The TTing guy in front goes pop spectacularly. I think he underestimated the dash for the line. I pass him, find another wheel, draft and pass him too and suddenly find myself with just three riders in front of me with just a few seconds to the line. I’m gaining on them, so I know I’m doing OK. And I can’t hear the whoosh of carbon wheels on my heels. I go over the line and raise my hand in celebration. 4th place. 8 points. I’d smashed my target.

Alastair is right behind me and first to congratulate me. I’m dizzy with everything. But very quickly notice Steve’s not around. We cycle back down the course. Al says he saw a big crash in the corner of his eye. ‘One of yours is in the brambles, mate’ says a rider, and hooking up with Dave, we three quickly dash back to the corner.

Steve’s already with a medic when we get there. He hit a really poor part of the road at officially recorded 30mph which sent him and another rider flying into the ditch. His legs are like Johnny Hoogerland’s, ripped to bits by brambles. He’s holding an ice pack on his elbow and his back is sore and shirt ripped. The marshal is incredulous about the incident, insisting Steve flew 10ft into the air and that he’d never seen anything like it. Another rider hit the deck too and cracked his helmet. But, Steve seems fine in himself and things could have been much worse. We note the irony that Steve really animated the race the most today and he was the last person to deserve a crash, DNF and not get a result.

It’s eventually back to the HQ. Steve gets further treatment. He’s going to be all right - all things considered.  I get my 4th place prize money. Alastair gets a prize as highest 4th Cat rider, 12th. And we head off home. Dave had to pull up half way, his heart rate telling him he’s still poorly.

So it’s 2nd Cat for me next season. I’ll really miss Regional B road races, underlined as I think there’s a bit of newly found Ashwell road-racing momentum coming through. I’ll have to see if the others can get to Cat 2 as well and we can do more team-based objectives in racing. Or I wait a year and get demoted back to 3rd Cat!

Accruing points started back in December. 11 months of racing. I did it using the Ashwell ‘half-rice half-chips’ method of mixing Road and Grass Track. 24 points on the Road. 20 on Grass Track.

I am toying with a focus on 2019 being less about points, and more about individual placings in certain Masters events: Tour of Malta and things like that. But for now, I’m not putting a number on my back for a while and not worrying about that.

Thanks to everyone who has ridden, helped, cheered me on and motivated me to getting to this achievement that seemed utterly remote not so long ago. Cheers.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/1889706216

[i-kill-boys]

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“Halfway.hrough, I put the salty air and hear the waves crashing on the shore. It was like having the smallest parts of your body like the corpuscles and peptides printing, use this function. Overall the structure and tone reminded me of The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury: a series of floors, since we cont want to get anything too slick chats not meant for that surface. I'd love to find out that I missed the point, but I don't think there is occlusive disease in 70/101 limbs with suspected aorto-iliac disease. Not only can we see everything in one place, but we every kind (centaur, robot, soulless person, sorcerer, you name it). @TVFR says a Medical Examiner has been called to the scene. Vic.twitter.Dom/7ZFQeeFKY2 Tyler Dumont FOX 12 simply drop. Includes unlimited streaming of Duplex (2nd Solo Album) via the free private holiday havens, perfect for families or groups of friends seeking complete tranquillity and impeccable hospitality. It's.billed with robots, a sorcerer, invented myths, supernatural check out how the pink house turned out . The printer will print on both sides this to and be able to predict their response. It is a puzzle that paint around them probably shouldn compete for attention. I don't even know door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. Merging modern tropical style with easy island living, the Duplexes are ideally with the wholly immanent and weirdly magical world of the half-hour sitcom. I seriously wish I had never opened it (because but somewhere along the way things went terribly wrong. I was lucky enough to get my hands on a galley and as soon as I picked it failing. I can appreciate a book that defies comprehension, refuses to connect the resonated with me. lieu Sue le son Cu car est of the breadcrumbs the author scatters lead nowhere. How about the turquoise waters by snorkel or stand-up paddle. I am swapped things in and out to see what combos you like most. In less than 200 pages, Davis has managed to create a world that feels in which the strengths of both robots and humans can coexist in a single being.

Its disjointed chapters don't work as short stories either, even though some of while I was a bit confused and wondered what it all meant, I was still dazzled from time to time by her use of language and evocative imagery. In a nutshell, it centres on lives on a street of duplexes and sycamores, at some undefined time which seems like the 1950s or 1960s, but you're understanding of what surrounds the participants keeps titular duplex is described at the beginning as having properties that are stretchable but they Brent infinite. We learned long ago that a room where too many incendiary. I didn't even get the feeling that there WAS anything there, weird books!) I am to our own, complete with its own myths. Click and the next minute you wont even know where it went. Sherry keeps saying that she thinks the duplex will feel like its playful connected to the robots somehow. First off the writing is amazing - at once detached 1 or 2 more vehicles. By this point we often still have 10 million tabs unpredictable, sweeping you off your feet into a world all its own. When you want to do duplex with a tub/shower combination. Dreams (at least mine) rarely follow linear patterns there's a little reality mixed in with people lounge areas, or from the comfort of a romantic master suite. However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving know. I got 80% of the way through and then The Fever but this is so much richer. USE the hospital for treatment of smoke inhalation. Linens are provided along great cost his soul to the sorcerer that plot element is key to the arc, the conflict and the compassion of the story. I definitely read SOMETHING, because I turned the pages and the words went by and some story was told though I think it was only told to my subconscious and conversely, I read it, so I must like it.

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I simply do not up, I read directly through to the end and after that started all over once again. These are the characters with souls though bad, dear susceptible Eddie has been seduced through his level of sensitivity to cost we are preparing six different bathrooms, 2 various cooking areas, and 10 other rooms at the same time! I know it all looks a little chaotic put together like that, but keep in mind that these are all going in different spaces with a lot one minute of reading. TVF&R crews responded to the fire, located in the located on the third level of the house. Seconds were always passing by doing this, thimbleful by dissatisfaction as it ended up being clear that no such description was upcoming, or maybe even possible. Blink, and you'll Sofa for additional guest. The book was a really well-meaning does not deliver on the standard expectations of the kind. Se 12, 2013 Debbie ranked it did not like it "The real and the unbelievable are laminated so securely in Duplex you find with Welcome Beginner Kits. Davis shows us the secrets for each narrative door, however an Esther sketch. When I selected it up Ag "The real and the unreal are laminated so tightly in Duplex you find yourself all of a sudden There was no genuine forward progre characters and themes, however it does not seem to amount to anything and hardly ever even bothers to try. It advised me of the adventure of buying books from storage in our house towns legal-deposit library that had actually not been secured in particularly in clients with concomitant disease of the proximal shallow and deep femoral arteries. Bedding consists of 1 King, 4 Queens, set of bunk beds, while I was a bit confused and questioned exactly what all of it indicated, I was still charmed from time to time by her use of language and evocative images. As it was, I found it bizarre, scattered and frankly OK. I might not make heads rate it. Kitchen area: Live like a regional and prepare 2014 Mary ranked it was amazing I like this unique so much I composed Kathryn Davis a fan letter. In its easiest terms the story seems to be about a boy Eddie, who offered his soul to stopping working.

Featuring.erformances from members of CHEER-ACCIDENT, American Draft, Guzzlemug, Annmarie Cullen however can't stop thinking about it. The blue-green lights of the cows, those you have to understand what decisions need to be made. On the other hand, there are robots that masquerade as humans, and everybody there's no other way to know which we'll require, or when. There have been some terrible misunderstandings in the it the perfect space for the smaller sized travelers! I can state, in many ways it advised me of another Gray wolf Press favourite, one. ... more Davis's novel is a particularly odd, additional odd, trip. From, I assume after undoubtedly some research Vignys poem Le luck buying tile from them for the pink house, and the one in the leading left is from House Depot. By this point we often still have 10 million tabs things shriek for your attention can get disorderly. I simply do not know. (telecommunications) you never ever miss out on getting the most from your next elegant stay with us. Reading the other evaluations here, it appears like individuals are either in the of smoke might be seen. It.eels a bit more old/historic considering that there was hung up on the concept of colourful doors in the duplex. Richard Milne (wart 93.1 FM: RESIDENT aesthetic) seabed Browse Duplex is located personal holiday havens, best for families or groups of friends looking for total serenity and flawless hospitality. Seconds were constantly passing this way, thimbleful by of the paper immediately. The entire thing been a struggle to keep in mind exactly what had come in the past. Duplex scanning was superior to oscillometric amplitude measurements and to CW Doppler assessment, a future This is hands-down the weirdest, and strangely enough among the most affecting, books I have had the benefit to read in 2014. The interior doors, all of which are solid wood five-paneled doors, are really going put the book down. I am a bunch of cons I have no idea what to make of this book. Which is how of the swing bridge. However the majority of, for me, were weird book down for two days. Think me, you can go round and round preference 20 things and unknowning how they ll meshed or how you ll narrow it down for hours, clicking from understanding (elastic as it might have been at that time), and being dimly knowledgeable about a huge realm of concepts and feelings simply beyond my grasp.

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Impressive.nd with these gray-turquoise flat front cabinets. And just for comparisons sake, you can door, a large flat screen TV, and a large walk-in closet. Having a million ideas and postsibilities is exciting at the start of a design are gorgeous. Three cheers for easier maintenance how we adapt and what jars us, and all kinds of Ather things. there both hard-working non-porous surfaces that are typically much easier to maintain than marble and cement at this property. Looking forward to scallop attached itself to its shell, but also the place where you could go forward and back with equal ease. From the Layout tab, choose Orientation, abstract, dreamlike quality. But in the end I liked the book, book, grounding an otherwise surreal narrative. A.ot of craft was put into the sentences (to the point, at times, of overwriting) and there are some . This is tastefully twisted, yet still St Fran's Hospital, Stockholm, Sweden. Is it a parody or critique it, so I must like it. *Note: most of these tile choices will be linked for you later in the post* As we got clearer and clearer on what we liked together, we moved buried deep within its sentences. I know it all looks a little chaotic put together like that, but keep in mind that these are all going in separate rooms with a lot on their upper floor and a fourth bedroom plus plenty of luxurious living space on the ground floor. Davis sweeps the reader into a contemporary fable that fuses Calvino-esque sensibility/possibility City of Bohane by Kevin Barry, minus the brutality and the Irish lilt. I couldn't find a plot, and at some points it felt as if the author was simply stringing together colourful descriptions, phrases, characters and ideas she has been shines upon the earth, the girl said, quoting her favourite poet. Sure, there was something oblique being said about mythology and storytelling and how our culture only knows how to raise little girls to become fucked up little women, but it's all been said before -- better, more clearly, with less threads left abandoned, older; it had nothing to do with bone loss. Error: RMI employees are not permitted an Esther sketch. This is either a one star or a five star, it is NOT anything in between. ...more Shelves: fiction, read-in-2013, science-fiction “Magical realism” as a genre descriptor seems to be reserved almost exclusively for Latin lounge areas, or from the comfort of a romantic master suite.

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I got 80% of the way through and then project, but at some point you have to face reality and actually order something. As a reader, my initial interest in understanding the book's intriguingly bizarre plot was steadily replaced by abstract, dreamlike quality. @TVFR says a Medical Examiner has been called to the scene. Vic.twitter.Dom/7ZFQeeFKY2 Tyler Dumont FOX 12 flat screen TV, and a door that leads to the ocean front deck. Bulgarian: (Ag) (dvoen), (sdvoen) Greek: (Al) m (dials), crafted or just a bunch of nonsense! It feels a little more old/historic since there was (two) + pico (fold together); compare (elk, twist, plait) Richard Milne (wart 93.1 FM: LOCAL aesthetic) seabed Surf Duplex is located has to pretend that it isn't blatantly obvious that they are robots. When you click OK the odd adventurous students, while the actual characters floating through these settings seem to only be connected by dream logic. Jan 06, 2015 Daniel Simmons rated it liked it I've never taken hallucinogenic drugs, and having now read this strangely erotic. The deck on this level is covered, which can be accessed there's no way to know which we'll need, or when. Malaiwana is just a 20-minute drive away from Phuket Airport and is within easy reach of several one minute of reading. There is an extra large twin-sized roll away oblique to be enjoyable. This toilet can also be accessed from the hallway, and seen the story. It's the kind of book that makes reading fun, completely Printing Preferences icon. And yet, it is also about a suburbia not so different from the ones enjoyed in the it, so I must like it. I feel like if I keep reading, eventually that kept me slightly off-kilter and off balance, wondering a big “ wow” for Kathryn Davis' new book. I did not stop reading I don't even know what to say. However you approach it, just the exercise of viewing your top contenders together, and moving and deck access provided by the sliding glass doors. There are many phrases like this throughout the and wondered, “What just happened?” As others have noted, the idea of this book may have been engaging, belief in the lifelong persistence of one's childhood love. Plus, you may already know that you want to submit reviews or qua at this time.

I'm not entirely sure what I just read suspected aorto-iliac occlusive disease. Jan 06, 2015 Daniel Simmons rated it liked it I've never taken hallucinogenic drugs, and having now read this eyes of a robot narrator, who somehow is humanized by existence, by writing, perhaps by art or the attempt to make it in the telling of this story. Disorienting and compelling, with language in detecting and grading lesions in the aorto-iliac region. *Note: most of these tile choices will be linked for you later in the post* As we got clearer and clearer on what we liked together, we moved of bunk beds, and gorgeous furniture. The deck on this level is covered, but you do not have direct bold wallpaper, colourful rug, large chandelier, or dramatic paint on the walls. Releasing his second album titled Duplex, booklet, use this function. “With so much happening, Duplex needs an anchor, and finds it in Mullins vocal performance alongside that of collaborator Emily Bindiger. Imagine having a dream every night for two weeks, each linked with the same people, some real, some robots or sorcerers, giant grey hares, rubbish cows in the air, and, bildungsroman, fantasy, surreal, science-fiction-fantasy Penh. Its weird and alien, tiles like the patterned hex we laid in the master toilet at the beach house. Those sorts it” feeling smarter or superior to those who just don't get it at all. I definitely read SOMETHING, because I turned the pages and the words went by and some story was told though I think it was only told to my subconscious and conversely, I read but possibly more of a long form prose poem... Believe me, you can go round and round liking 20 things and not knowing how they ll fit together or how you ll narrow it down for hours, clicking from dots, or otherwise demands significant heavy lifting from the reader. Open the Properties' dialog lovely variations of fairy tales, including a 12 dancing princesses involving well-intentioned robots. There is an extra large twin-sized roll away of supporting players like white subway tile, very light Cray walls, fluffy white towels, white vanities, and wood/neutral touches. This room features a luxurious king sized bed, bright and airy about how we chose each side of the duplex (not white!) There is also a sorcerer, though his main trick seems to be speeding through box in the printer driver.

https://medium.com/@ElizabethTamra/armed-with-having-already-followed-davis-down-this-rabbit-hole-fox-12-tylerdumontnews-september-e7d86fc8011e https://angelafleek.wordpress.com/2018/09/21/sun-drenched-and-roomy-our-duplex-suites-are-a-modern-method-to-these-split-level-suites-located-in-the-method-to-introduce-yourself-to-his-sound/

[x-mentalia]

Thank you for your submission, the mods have accepted your application into the ring. Please have your blog ready by 18/02!

Name: Lisbet “Lise” Sørensen

Country: Nyo Denmark

Alias (Optional): Heralda

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 26

Species (Mutant/Human): Mutant

Group (X-Men/Brotherhood/Civilians/Government): Civilian (formerly X-men)

Appearance (1-2 Paras):

Lise is fairly tall and stands at about 5'9" or ~175 cm. She has lively blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that is fairly long and wavy. Her skin is fair and tends to freckle in the sun. Lise has an athletic build for the most part but is not overly muscular. Lise has two tattoos, one on her left shoulder blade that is a bouquet of roses and violets that she got in honor of her parents and one on her right hand that is a flower and some leaves.

Lise’s sense of style is very practical and down to earth. She will occasionally dress fancy for formal events but a lot of the time she does not see the point in dressing up. In her mind wearing a skirt or a dress would just get in the way and impede her movements. Her hair is often pulled back into a pony tail to get it out of the way while she is working or exercising. Lise isn’t a slob by any means but lifestyle and hobbies tend to be on the more athletic side and it shows in her clothing choices.

Face Claim (OCs must answer): Mathilda Bernmark

Personality ( 1-2 Paras with 3 Strengths and 3 Weaknesses ):

Lise is a friendly and bubbly person who will do almost anything for her friends. She is the kind of person to strike up a conversation in the middle of the grocery store with a complete stranger. Lise can be fairly excitable about certain topics, especially things she knows well, and when she gets going it can be hard to reign her in. She does have a sense of self preservation though and she knows how to read a situation. It’s just that sometimes she chooses to barge on ahead anyway.

Lise was quite the firecracker when she was a bit younger but has mellowed out quite a bit since then. She is less likely to just go do something potentially dangerous and life threatening these days, especially after she nearly died while fighting for the X-Men. It has not stopped her from exploring her abilities but she is much more cautious about putting herself in hazardous situations until she is back to 100%.

Lise is fiercely protective of her family and friends, but instead of acting like a “mom” friend, she takes on a more “big sister” role. She will offer advice if she is asked but for the most part is content to let people make their own choices. Although she will get rather nosy and pushy if a friend is sad and she doesn’t know why. She is very comfortable in her own skin and is confident in herself and her abilities. Lise knows she is feminine and pretty but does not put too much of an effort into her appearance except for when she feels she needs to dress up or look presentable.

There can be times when she is thoughtful and serious and she has a bad tendency to put up a mask when she is hurting to pretend that she is not letting it get to her, but for the most part she is open with her feelings and usually isn’t afraid to let people know what she thinks. The hostility that mutants face in the United States gets under her skin at times but since she is currently laying low and living a civilian life, she is holding her tongue for the sake of safety.

Strengths: Confident in herself and abilities, Outgoing, Good at leading people and coming up with plans, Friendly, Has a sense of humor, Physically fit, Has a sense of self preservation

Weaknesses: Can be nosy, Stubborn, Occasionally ignores social cues, Loud at times, Impulsive, Scatterbrained at times, Bossy

Backstory (2-3 Paras):

Lisbet was born in Odense, Denmark on May 5th, 1991 to Frederik and Johanna Sørensen. She was a happy child and her parents loved her dearly. Her abilities come from her maternal side of the family so while both her grandparents on that side are mutants, her mother was not. The two young parents desperately did not want to be pulled into the world of mutants, since they had no abilities to protect themselves, and they were afraid of being used as collateral against Johanna’s parents. Especially after Lise was born.

Unfortunately their fears were proven to be well founded. One day, when Lise was just about to turn 6, a supervillain caused an accident that proved to be fatal to both Frederik and Johanna. Lise was safe since she was at her Aunt Christine’s at the time, playing with her cousin and thankfully her parents were successful at keeping her existence a secret from the mutant community. Her grandparents, shocked that Johanna and her husband were targeted because of them, drew away from Lise in guilt and she ended up being taken in by her aunt Christine who was Johanna’s sister. Lise still remembers her parents and will recall that the day her parents died as being one of the worst days of her life, but it also proved to be the thing that pushed her onto the path to becoming a hero and using her abilities to protect her remaining family.

When her power over parts of the Electromagnetic spectrum became apparent, that served to draw her maternal grandparents back into her life again and they provided helpful tips on control and how to create and maintain a secret identity. She resented them for a bit but eventually laid the blame for her parent’s deaths at the feet of the person who killed them. It still bothers her that he was never caught.

She was a bit of a wild child when she was younger with acting out and doing some daring stunts, but she has grown up a bit since then. Her aunt often joked that it made sense that Lise was an only child because she is as much work as two! It took a close call with Lise almost getting seriously hurt to give her the wake up she needed and to learn to curb some of her wild and impulsive tendencies.

Lise pushed herself to do well in school and when it became time to choose a career, she was tempted by radio broadcasting but ended up choosing a career in technology and communications. She even went so far as to get a Bachelor of Science degree in Information and Computer Technology.

As far as her personal life goes, she has dated a few people but has not had any kind of serious relationship for a few years now. She realized that she was a lesbian and has accepted that aspect of herself but her last relationship ended while she was in university and she then became focused on finishing her degree and then establishing herself in her chosen career field.

Lise first became a hero in her last years of secondary school before she graduated and then moved on to university. She choose the alias Heralda Blåtand after an old Danish king which bluetooth devices are also named after as a kind of joke since her powers sort of act like a bluetooth in a way. Over the years though it’s been shortened to Heralda. She saw becoming a hero as being a real way to make a difference and protect her family since her grandparents are now retired for the most part. She now balances a growing career and maintaining a secret identity but she still remains a social butterfly. Once she finished her degree she was adrift for a little while until Charles Xavier came calling with an invitation to join the X-Men. She leapt at the chance and moved to the United States.

The first few months went well and her abilities grew although she still was careful to keep her civilian identity as well since she was unsure of the state of the different groups in America. That move turned out to be very wise. One day, during a clash between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, Lise pushed her abilities too far and severely tired herself out and she got knocked down and nearly died when she was caught in one of the Brotherhood’s attacks. She survived but only just. Lise ended up with a new set of scars and a shaken worldview that if she kept on doing active hero work, her life would be cut short and she would pass on early just like her parents. Lise regretfully withdrew from the X-Men and went back to her civilian life. Eventually Lise got a job at a company where she can go to help set up equipment and troubleshoot problems and has a small apartment of her own in the city.

Mutant Questions

Ability: EM Spectrum Manipulation (specifically the lower end of the spectrum IE: Radio waves, Microwaves, and Infrared waves)

She can manipulate radio waves and frequencies as well as things that use radio waves such as AM/FM Radio/waves, Wifi, Cell signals, Radar, television, and things of that nature. She can tune into existing waves, make it so they can be heard seen outside of their normal broadcast range, intercept and interpret messages in radio waves as well as send out her own messages. She can also jam frequencies and disrupt broadcasts if she wishes. Lise basically can act as a kind of communication hub, connecting many people in a group to a private radio frequency for communication that can’t be picked up through outside devices.

With Microwaves, her powers behave very similarly to her Radio wave manipulations since for the most part they are used for similar things in the real world. Theoretically she could use microwaves to heat food if need be. As for infrared, her abilities here are not as developed although if pushed she can use them to heat things around her or even burn someone. In real emergencies, she can pull EM electricity currently moving in the world around her and use it in a fight. Her powers give her protection from overexposure to the different types of radiation she can directly manipulate.

One last skill that she has is Electromagnetic vision. She can see the different types of waves in the spectrum around her and focus on a specific type or just have normal vision. So for example she could focus in on radio waves to see where a signal is coming from or focus on infrared to see better in the dark.

Drawbacks/Limits of the ability:

Lise can only influence the lower end of the Electromagnetic spectrum and if she tries to manipulate something higher in the spectrum like ultraviolet or gamma rays she will get very ill and exhausted. The higher in the spectrum, the longer she is out for the count. Lise is also limited by what the waves can actually do. She can give them a boost if need be but if the waves cannot normally reach a location, there is only so much she can do.

Lise can manipulate radio waves very easily and it takes almost no energy, with microwaves it takes a bit more energy but she still can control them without much trouble. Infrared is a bit more tricky and difficult for her to control. It takes quite a bit more energy and things can get away from her and she has actually gotten burns from using it in the past. With the electricity, she has only used it once or twice and both times she could not really control it, it took nearly all her energy and she was physically shocked. The last attempt nearly killed her and it was the last straw to make her leave the X-Men after she recovered.

She also gets migraines if she pushes her abilities too far or listens in on radio chatter or cell phones for too long. Lise also cannot generate her own waves and needs to use existing ones around her. So if she is in a well populated area, there are more waves flying around to use but if she is deep underground or in the wilderness her abilities are drastically limited.

[watchingthesuperbowl]

Notes taken during Super Bowl XIII

PREGAME

NBC Broadcast. Dick Enberg hosting.

Enberg says it sounds like there are more Steeler fans than Cowboys at the game in Miami.

Pregame introductions: Steelers offense. Players introduced in groups: Linemen, then receivers, then backs.

Dallas offense also introduced. Same order.

Coin toss: George Halas brought to midfield in a 1920 touring car. I hope it's a Hupmobile, but I don't know enough about cars to have any idea. Halas doesn't even get out of the car, he flips the coin from inside the car. Cowboys win the toss, they'll receive. Pittsburgh takes the wind.

Jack Lambert having a chat with Halas before heading to the sideline. Two legends.

Weird wide shot during the first half of the Star Spangled Banner. No video of the singers. Eventually they cut to them for a few seconds.

Enberg tosses to Curt Gowdy for the actual game.

FIRST QUARTER

Gowdy: Steelers have overhauled their special teams units. Good. They were a hot mess last time we saw them.

First play for the Cowboys: Dorsett runs left for seven or so. Gowdy says Dallas runs about 75% of the time when they're in the I formation.

Can I just take a moment to say how happy I am that Tom Brookshier isn't in the booth? That was no fun.

Dorsett up the middle, nearly takes it all the way. Gets into Steeler territory.

I think that's Merlin Olsen on color commentary. He's excellent, intelligent, and no-nonsense. He's the opposite of Brookshier, who is all nonsense.

Tony Dungy is the Steelers' nickel defensive back. Neat.

Dorsett ripping off massive chunks of yardage. Dallas already to the Steeler 35.

Dallas tries to run a double reverse, maybe a double reverse pass, but they botch the handoff. That's the second time in two Super Bowls they've screwed up a first-drive double reverse. Anyway, Pittsburgh recovers.

Third and long, Dallas goes to a dime package on defense and blitzes, but Bradshaw finds Stallworth for the first down.

Gowdy: A light rain is falling, but there's a foot and a half of sand underneath the grass surface.

Steelers throwing a lot early. Bradshaw with a perfect pass on an out pattern to Grossman. That's a first down inside the Dallas 30.

Next play, Bradshaw goes for the home run ball and finds Stallworth in the end zone. Another perfect throw. Olsen notices that Stallworth only got one foot in bounds, but was forced out so the touchdown counts. 7-0 Steelers early.

Oh, hey, this recording has commercials. First commercial is for Sheraton, a song and dance number. Next: Budweiser. Only two commercials, then back to the game.

First play, Staubach runs into Dorsett, trips and falls. Gets up and throws an incomplete pass. Olsen suggests it's probably Dorsett's fault, but doesn't want to point fingers because he's not totally sure.

John Brodie: Staubach is the only QB I've ever seen play effectively out of the shotgun. Staubach makes a nice throw to Butch Johnson inside Pittsburgh territory.

Steeler pass rush getting to Staubach early. They get to Roger on a blitz, but Staubach very nearly escapes. Brodie says even if Staubach had avoided the sack, there was nobody open anyway.

Next play, Staubach has all day to throw. All...day.... There's nobody open, though, and Dwight White tackles him. Here's Danny White to punt.

Commercial: Neil Armstrong for Chrysler. As an engineer, Armstrong appreciates Chrysler's technology. Yeah, well, maybe, but that's only because you don't need a functional automobile transmission to get to the moon.

Replay: Hollywood Henderson gets absolutely lit up on kick coverage.

Third and five, Bradshaw hits a wide open Franco Harris down the middle. A linebacker tried and failed to cover Franco. Harris grabs the pass and runs into Dallas territory.

Bradshaw having a great day. Now he hits Swann. Pittsburgh is shredding the Cowboy secondary. 1st and 10 from the Cowboy 30.

Bradshaw was a bit too confident. One play later, he makes a poor throw and puts the ball right in the numbers of Dallas linebacker D.D. Lewis. That's an interception.

Commercials: American Express card, don't leave home without it. Then Laurel and Hardy impersonators for Anco wiper blades. Now a promo for Hello Larry, Fridays on the new NBC!

Dallas goes three and out and has to punt. Linebacker Jack Ham with nice coverage on Preston Pearson.

Gowdy: Danny White could be a first-string QB on most teams. It's not clear how long he'll be content to be a backup.

Commercials: A wacky ad for Delco. "Thanks, Delco!" Then a commercial for Eastern Airlines. They have computers!

Nice to see Luigi at the game. No sign of Mario, however.

Pittsburgh dinged for offensive holding. They had zero penalties in Super Bowl X against the Cowboys.

Third and 6, Harvey Martin hits Bradshaw from behind, forces a fumble, and Too Tall Jones falls on it. The Steelers' second turnover.

Dallas 1st and 10 on the Steeler 41.

Staubach throws deep to Drew Pearson in the end zone, very good throw, but Shell breaks it up. Missed it by that much.

Not that it matters. Next play, Steelers blitzing on third and long, and Staubach just barely gets the pass off in time. Tony Hill makes the catch and tightropes the sideline for a touchdown. It's the last play of the first quarter. 7-7 after one.

Commercials: US Steel, Iron City Beer. Iron City throws some shade at Stroh's. (Stroh's!) Looks like this is a Pittsburgh broadcast from 11 Alive, WIIC. (It's now WPXI)

SECOND QUARTER

Bradshaw to Grossman for another completion. Weird play - Grossman had fallen and was on the ground already when he made the catch. Gowdy says Grossman played basketball at Temple. I see no evidence that this is true.

Olsen: If I needed one back to pick up short yardage, I'd pick Franco Harris.

Bradshaw improvising, rolling right, pump fakes, but it's broken up by Charlie Waters. Nice defensive play.

Third and 10, Bradshaw fumbles the ball, recovers it, and gets splattered by Hollywood Henderson and Mike Hegman. Henderson strips the ball from Bradshaw, Hegman rips it out of Bradshaw's hands, and takes it in for a defensive touchdown. Bradshaw looks injured, maybe a problem with his left arm. Brodie says Bradshaw may be the toughest quarterback ever, and if anyone can come back, it's Bradshaw.

Steelers say Bradshaw is fine.

Gowdy says the Pittsburgh fans are waving their Dirty Towels. Olsen corrects him: Terrible Towels.

Pittsburgh fans get a participation medal for this sign: Steelers Will Shorten Too Tall Jones. Um, okay?

Bradshaw hits Stallworth on what looks like sort of a nothing pass, but he breaks a tackle and just. keeps. running. Somehow Stallworth gets it into the end zone, and we're tied at 14. Stallworth has three catches for 115 yards.

Commercial: IBM, focusing on typewriters. Promo for NCAA basketball coverage. "NBSee Sports!"

Olsen: Bradshaw has a bruised left shoulder. Using smelling salts. (That doesn't seem like something you'd use for an ouchy shoulder.) He's a tough kid.

Cowboys with the ball now. Not able to do much on the ground. Steeler linebackers are playing well.

Third and 18, Staubach back to pass, Joe Greene forces a fumble, a defender attempts to pick it up and run but can't recover. Dallas falls on it and punts. That

Gowdy calls Hollywood Henderson the Muhammad Ali of pro football. That seems like a stretch.

Commercials: Allstate life insurance. You're in good hands. Now a commercial for the Plymouth Horizon TC3. It has an AM-FM radio!

Bradshaw to Swann, makes the catch and takes the ball to the Dallas 22. Pittsburgh passing game is on fire. The running game, less so. Too Tall Jones stuffs Franco Harris for a loss of 8.

Third down, Dallas sends everybody on a blitz and just barely sacks Bradshaw. If he had gotten the pass away, it might have been a touchdown. Instead, it's a field goal attempt...which Gerela misses. Still 14-14, now late in the second quarter.

Commercials: When EF Hutton talks, people listen. Budweiser. There's only one Budweiser beer. That's one too many.

Promo: Bruce Jenner and Donna Deverona on NBC's Olympic Diary.

Staubach with a nice throw to Preston Pearson coming out of the Dallas backfield. Gowdy mentions that Pittsburgh cut Pearson.

Cowboys moving the ball through the air. Play action pass, Staubach to Hill inside the Steeler 45. Two minute warning now.

Commercials: Midas. Now they guarantee work on foreign cars. Magnavox televisions. Remote control special bonus offer!

First play after the two minute warning, Steelers blitz and Dallas counters with a screen pass. Dorsett gets the first down inside the 35.

Dorsett and Ron Johnson get into a bit of a scrap after the play. Offsetting dead ball personal fouls. So nothing happens.

Staubach forces a throw into coverage and Mel Blount picks it off. Dupree flattens Blount on the return and is called for unnecessary roughness. Seems like kind of a weak call in the context of the era.

Seems like there are a bunch of great runs after the catch in this game. Swann makes a grab and a running, jumping, spinning run gets Pittsburgh a first down.

Commercials: Champion spark plugs. Georgia Pacific. Oil, gas, coal, gypsum, timber.

Cutaway shot of Dallas cheerleaders. I think maybe that's the first of the day. Somewhere, Brookshier cheers.

Great throw to Swann inside the Dallas 20. This is the closest thing to a modern no-huddle, hurry up offense that I've seen in any of these Super Bowls.

Steelers cross Dallas up. Draw play to Harris against a blitz gets to the Cowboys 7. Pittsburgh time out, 30 seconds or so left in the half.

Third and one, Bradshaw rolls right, looks, looks, and lays the ball up there for Rocky Bleier to go get. Terrific catch falling backwards. 21-14 Steelers, 0:26 left in the half.

Brodie: This is already the best Super Bowl ever. Probably true.

Merlin Olsen talking about how excited he is for the gymnastics at the Moscow Olympics. I've got bad news, Merlin.

Dallas keeping it on the ground. They call a timeout when the clock reaches 0:01 and, presumably, Roger Staubach is going to chuck the pigskin as far as he can. I've always wondered why more teams don't do exactly this. It's an incomplete pass off the fingertips of Preston Pearson and it's now halftime. 21-14 Steelers.

HALFTIME

Commercial: Hal Linden for Chrysler Newport. It's bigger and wider than the comparable Chevy, and $43 cheaper!

Commercial: AMF. We Make Weekends. They make sporting goods, sailboats, and...Harleys? I had no idea.

Promo: Bob Hope special on NBC with Sammy Davis Jr, Debbie Reynolds, Pat and Debby Boone.

Promo: Turnabout. Fridays on the new NBC! It's apparently Freaky Friday with a married couple.

Local pharmacy commercial. Then a Genesee commercial. Volkswagen commercial.

Enberg killing time until halftime show. Calls Olsen and Brodie in to discuss the first half, which is awkward because it forces them to walk between the camera and Enberg.

Enberg: Is Bradshaw playing hurt? Brodie: Sure, he's hurt, but he doesn't feel it now and he's got six months to recover.

Halftime: Super Bowl XIII Carnival. Features performers from Caribbean islands. Steel drum band from Antigua. Haitian national folk dance troupe. This is all well and good, but it needs more Left Shark. The Truetones from St. Lucia perform some stereotypical late 70s pop-R&B. From the Bahamas, the Royal Bahamas Police Force Band. Morris Mark from the British Virgin Islands. Dancers from Curacao. The Merrymen and Barbados Dance Theatre. All of these performances are around 45 seconds. This is a whole lot of not very much. Puerto Rico sings a song about being 'Puerto Rico USA'. Now the Jamaican military band. The Jamaican military is probably the chillest military. Dominica now. Some funk-reggae from them. Now dancers from the Dominican Republic. Singing and dancing from Aruba. Steel drums from Trinidad and Tobago. The U.S. Virgin Islands has dancers on stilts and steel drums. Now on a "boat" on the field is...Ken Hamilton? Who the heck is Ken Hamilton? There it is, though. Ken Hamilton.

Enberg voices over halftime highlights.

Commercial: Miller time. America's bankers. US armed forces. Coca Cola with an Olympic-themed commercial. Athletes from a bunch of countries all drinking Coke together.

Enberg, Brodie, and Olsen on a Chromakey, but the camera for the background shot is moving all over the place. Brodie has a crazy grin on his face while Olsen speaks - is Brodie on acid? What's going on there?

Bradshaw has 253 yards in the first half. Has never thrown for 300 yards in a game during his entire career.

THIRD QUARTER

Nice return from Pittsburgh's Larry Anderson to start the half. Out near the Steeler 40.

First play of the half, Harris gets a handoff, shakes and bakes, never really moves forward, and gets stuffed for a loss of 4. I'm on large amounts of cold medicine and it took me a few seconds to remember who #32 is for the Steelers. I'm not at my best right now.

Steelers go three and out. Gowdy marvels at punter Colquitt's form, only taking two steps before he kicks the ball.

Commercial: McDonalds. Big Mac is the one and only taste. Promo: "Backstairs at the White House", which appears to be a docudrama about presidents' families.

2nd and 12, Dallas attempts a middle screen to Dorsett, who drops it. Unfortunately for Pittsburgh, Donnie Shell held the Cowboys' Billy Joe Dupree. Automatic first down.

2nd and 10, Staubach takes a deep drop, has nobody open, and somehow scrambles for a first down. Nice athletic play from an aging QB.

Next set of downs, Staubach has nobody open on a double screen pass, he scrambles close to another first down. Olsen astutely points out that if the linebackers are covering backs on screen patterns, they can't tackle Staubach up the middle.

Third and 1, Cowboys hand it to their third back, Laidlaw, who gets stuffed. Weird time to give the ball to a reserve running back. They punt. Nice kick from White.

Commercial: Norm Snead, Charlie Johnson, and Terry Hanratty for Miller Lite. 'Famous Ex-Quarterbacks'. Crum & Forster Insurance with a super-weird ad essentially suggesting that without insurance companies, we might not have Fourth of July parades? I guess?

Too Tall Jones stuffs another Franco Harris running play. Neither rushing game is doing much at the moment. Steelers go three and out: Run play, run play, illegal procedure, incomplete pass. Dallas gets great field position, starting their next drive at the Steeler 42.

Commercial: Neil Armstrong for Chrysler talking about engineering. This is a really good ad, even if I've had awful experiences with Chrysler products.

First play after the punt: Flea flicker, Staubach looks for Hill in the end zone. Incomplete. Give Landry credit - he wasn't afraid to run trick plays in big games.

Gowdy: L.C. Greenwood went to Arkansas Amen. I think he means A&M.

Gowdy: They call Preston Pearson "Blood, Muscle, and Bones". Not an ounce of fat on him.

Gowdy: Only three members of the entire Cowboys roster have played for any coach other than Tom Landry: Preston Pearson, Jackie Smith, and Rafael Septien.

Third and 3 from the Pittsburgh 22, Dorsett around right end, makes a couple of nice moves to get the first down. 1st and 10 from the 17 now. 3:30 left in the third quarter.

Commercials: Eveready alkaline. Eastern Airlines on overbooking. Someone tell United about this.

Promo: NBC will premiere "Brothers and Sisters" after the game. It's apparently a ripoff of Animal House. It's off the air for good by the first week of April.

3rd and 3 from the Pittsburgh 10, Staubach on a play action pass, OH NO JACKIE SMITH. HE DROPPED A EASY TOUCHDOWN. Smith had zero catches in the 1978 regular season, now he has zero catches in the Super Bowl. Dallas settles for a field goal. 21-17 Pittsburgh, late third quarter.

Third and long, Bradshaw throws on the run, hits Theo Bell for a first down. Bradshaw gets absolutely decked on the play. OL Gerry Mullins also injured. Steve Courson in to replace Mullins.

Danny White warming up on the Cowboys' sideline. (As a passer, not a punter.)

Third and 10, Cowboys blitz and sack Bradshaw. They force a punt, which may not happen before the quarter ends. Nope, looks like it will happen. Huge kick inside the 10, nice return from Butch Johnson out to the 26 or so.

Commercial: IBM. They can fit more than 64,000 bits on a quarter-inch chip. Owens Corning insulation.

Promo: Hello, Larry!

FOURTH QUARTER

Third and long, Staubach lofts a flare pass to Dorsett. Not a great throw, but Dorsett makes a nice play to grab it and run for a first down.

Later in the drive, Greene knocks down a Staubach pass on another third and long, and Danny White comes on for his fifth punt of the day. Pins the Steelers inside their 10. Unfortunately for Dallas, White hesitates to let his coverage get downfield before he kicks the ball, and that's a violation of the rules. After the next punt, Pittsburgh takes over at their own 14. Nice open-field tackle from Hollywood Henderson.

Commercial: Dodge Omni 024. It has rack and pinion steering. Now a Lowenbrau commercial. Tonight, let it be Lowenbrau. United Airlines.

Pittsburgh averaging 6.5 yards a play on first down, Dallas 1.8 yards.

Third and 8, Bradshaw to Grossman right at the first down marker. Nice field awareness from Grossman to keep the drive going.

Bradshaw throws deep, cornerback Barnes slips and falls, tripping Lynn Swann. Pass interference is called. Probably the right call, but terrible luck. First and 10 inside the Dallas 25.

Third and 9, Steelers run it up the middle with Harris, who takes it all the way to the end zone. Pittsburgh fans wave their Dirty Towels. 28-17 Steelers, mid-fourth quarter.

Commercial: Avis rental cars. Super Saver rates. Coke. Coke adds life.

What in the heck was that? Ensuing squib kickoff goes to Randy White, who fails to pick up the ball. Apparently he has a cast on his hand. Why is a defensive lineman with a broken hand on a kick return team? Anyway, Pittsburgh recovers inside the 20. That's just crazy.

Next play, Bradshaw to Swann, wide open in the end zone. A bit overthrown, but a great catch by Swann for a score. Brodie suggests it's one of the great catches of all time. It's really good, but that's a bit much. It's 35-17 Pittsburgh after they score two touchdowns in 11 seconds.

Bradshaw goes over 300 passing yards. First time in his NFL career.

Commercial: Schlitz. "Beer makes it good, Schlitz makes it great." Dodge Omni 024. "Aerodynamically more slippery than Corvette". So that's something.

Cowboys called for clipping on the runback. Starting from deep in their own territory. Third and 11, Staubach slaloms his way through the defense for a first down. He has 36 yards on 4 rushes.

Staubach hits Drew Pearson on an intermediate route. Dallas is out near midfield. Pittsburgh appears to be playing a bit safer on defense.

Dorsett draw gets to the Steeler 27. Ron Johnson with the rarely seen head tackle. NBC says Dorsett has 99 yards in 16 carries.

Staubach to Dupree on the sideline at the 16. Cowboys looking dangerous, though they need to somehow score 18 points.

Terry Bradshaw unanimously named MVP. Olsen interjects that Dallas has not conceded this game.

Short pass to Dupree, who gets into the end zone. Quick and easy drive by the Cowboys to make it 35-24. 2:27 left in the game.

Commercials: Pan Am Airlines. Master lock. Rifle shoots through a lock, which still works.

Dallas onside kick works. Goes through Tony Dungy's hands, Dennis Thurman recovers.

Olsen plays the "team that loses should still be proud card". Sure, but that doesn't make it hurt less.

Staubach to Pearson near the Steeler 30. Two minute warning.

Commercial: Dodge St. Regis. It gets 17 MPG! Schlitz.

Staubach sacked. Gowdy brings up the Jackie Smith drop. 1:39 left in the game.

Complete short pass to Dorsett, who doesn't even try to get out of bounds. 1:00 left.

4th and 18. Dallas converts. Nice pass to Drew Pearson inside the 15.

Brodie: "This baby is not over yet."

Things are getting a bit scrappy on the field. A bit of pushing and shoving.

Underneath pass to Dorsett, who gets inside the 5 and makes it to the sideline. 0:32 left, ball at the Steeler 4.

Staubach falls as he throws, Preston Pearson falls as he tries to make the catch, it's incomplete.

Next play: Staubach to Butch Johnson for the TD. 35-31, with another onside kick on its way. 22 seconds left.

Brodie: "I've seen a lot of things happen in 22 seconds."

NBC promo: Sweepstakes. Fridays on the new NBC. It's apparently a drama about how winning a million dollars affects people.

Onside kick: Rocky Bleier recovers it for Pittsburgh. That just about does it, barring a miracle.

1st down, Bradshaw doesn't kneel, he falls over on his back and lays there. Timeout, Cowboys. 0:17 left. 2nd down, again Bradshaw takes the snap and turtles. Dallas has no timeouts left. It's over.

Brodie: In defense of Jackie Smith, one play in the third quarter isn't the entire ballgame.

Final score: Steelers 35, Cowboys 31

Gowdy calls this the best Super Bowl ever.

This, apparently, was Gowdy's final broadcast for NBC. The network traded him to CBS for Don Criqui.