#Replacement parts for River Grill

[grillpartshub-blog]

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[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

district nine — l.mh

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

SYNOPSIS For the very first time in his life, eighteen year-old Minho is left to fight his demons alone, far from home and everything dear to him. New places, new people, new things to fear— it's an endless tightrope strung by the unknown. But what Minho does not know is that he will never walk it alone.

Pairing: Lee Know-centric story featuring the rest of skz. No pairings apply. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, college au Warnings: themes of loss and grief, minor character death, fear of water/aquaphobia, post-traumatic stress disorder, mentions of underage drinking/alcohol Word Count: 4k

*Written for @k-labels debut event. My submission is for District 9 by Stray Kids.

“You’ll be okay, Minho.”

Minho tries to swallow the anxiety rising in his throat, fighting the urge to look up at his father one more time. The waves are calm today, rising and falling like the movement of his chest at night. However, the comfort of Minho’s bedroom is missing from the scene, replaced with the familiar fear that Minho always feels whenever he’s around bodies of water. 

“I’m scared, Dad.” Minho clings to his father’s sailing vest while staring down at the murky depths of the river. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Minho hears his father sigh in affection, more than frustration, before he bends down to match his height. He runs his hand through his son’s hair, tousling it like the balmy summer breeze overhead. 

“As long as I’m here, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Minho’s father kisses his soft head before standing up once more and getting back to work. “See? You’re all safe.”

Minho nods unconvincingly, trying not to squish the soft grilled cheese sandwich in his hands. He really wishes he brought his stress ball with him. “Okay.”

“Cheer up, Minho! Your grandpa used to bring me here all the time, when I was your age,” Minho’s father calls out from where he’s busy reeling in a long line of thick rope and cramming it into a little metal box for safe-keeping.

“Hmph.”

It’s the perfect weather to be outside on the river, which is frequented by many others in their small town on idyllic days like these. Minho, however, would rather be back home, either assisting his mother in the kitchen or playing with his cats. But his father insisted on taking him on a boating trip, and he couldn’t refuse, not when he barely saw his father these days. He knows his father is facing an immense amount of pressure at work, and that this would help him relax. Still, he can’t help the feeling of foreboding twisting and turning in his stomach.

Minho decides to abandon the sandwich after all, nauseated by both fear and the way the boat consistently rocks against the current. He looks out at the water once more, glaring down at the river like he can subdue it with a withering gaze. As if his expression has summoned something, a little fish pops up into his vision, its brightly-colored scales flashing right beneath the surface.

Intrigued, Minho breaks off a small part of sandwich crust and throws it out into the water. The fish cautiously approaches the particle of bread, before eating it. Now momentarily distracted by the way the fish looks up at him, as if pleading for more, Minho tosses out a couple more crumbs, but this time, closer. The fish swims towards him like Minho wants it to, its little fins wagging happily as it eats.

Minho laughs for the first time today, prompting his father to look over his shoulder. “Having fun, Minho?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. But be careful— don’t go to close to the edge. The river is unpredictable.”

Minho sighs. Grown-ups. “I know that, Dad.”

By now, multiple fish have surfaced, eager for scraps like their lucky friend, and Minho indulges them, sharing his midday snack with all hungry for it. After a few minutes, his sandwich is finally gone, and the fish just gaze up at him. He shakes his head at them sadly. “I don’t have anymore left, guys.” 

Not wanting to see them go, however, Minho very tentatively stretches out his hand to the water, wondering if the fish would come to him. They don’t dare to come near, but Minho takes it as a sign to try even harder; the fish were just so pretty. Maybe if he caught one, he could put it in a jar and beg his parents to let him keep it as a pet. He’d name it Lino, so they both have rhyming names. Obviously, he can’t introduce Lino to his cats, but still, Lino would be his friend, a better one to replace the mean people who made fun of him at school. Lino would be Minho’s, and he’d be Lino’s.

Minho leans over the edge, all of his previous apprehension forgotten as his fingertips skim the cool water. The fish splash in the water, trying to escape Minho’s grasp, flicking little droplets of water onto the bare skin of his arms. Maybe this really isn’t that bad, Minho thinks, smiling to himself.

One of the fish darts in the water near Minho’s hand, making him giggle in amusement. His entire upper body is hanging off the edge now, only his feet anchoring him to the belly of the boat. “Just a little closer…” 

Just as Minho’s little hand is about to close around the fish, the boat suddenly lurches, and he ends up clasping a handful of river water instead of his target. Minho tries to pull himself back to stand so he can complain about his loss properly, before he loses his balance. The next thing he knows, he’s being catapulted over the side of the boat and falling headfirst into the river with a frightened shout. 

The first thing he feels after his body painfully careens through the water is how shockingly cold the water is, enveloping him like a frigid, suffocating blanket. The currents that lie below the surface finally manifest, showing their true colors as they swirl his body around like a rag doll. Minho remembers reading about such a phenomenon in some nature article, that sometimes, even though a small body of water may look peaceful, the sinister truth is hidden right under.

Minho gasps for air in the frothing rapids, fighting to keep his face from lolling to the side and trying to make his waterlogged body move, but to no avail. He was always too scared of the water to learn how to swim, even at their neighborhood swimming pool. Amongst other irrelevant reasons, it’s why he always gets bullied at school, why the other kids always make a big show of flashing their invitations to pool parties to him. He was never invited, and he never cared either, beyond that twinge of sadness in his chest. But now, all he can hear is the raucous roaring of the river around him, and for a moment, perhaps someone yelling his name from up above. But that sensation is soon lost, as Minho begins to submit to the strength of the water.

Before he finally succumbs, however, he feels a different kind of pressure on his body, strong arms circling his legs and propelling him upwards. Minho thrusts his own flailing limbs forward, trying to drag himself to the surface. The struggle barely works, as Minho’s hands finally locate the side of the boat, grabbing at the material and trying to find the side railing. Minho’s savior clutches at his ankles from down below, giving him a final push up and into safety.

As soon as Minho’s hips hit the bottom of the little boat, he ignores the pain in his side from the hard impact, scrambling to the edge of the boat once more. This time, he holds the railing like it’s his lifeline— which it very well may be. 

“Dad!” His eyes frantically search the water for any signs of his father, for the man who saved his life, but the action is to no avail. “DAD?!”

His efforts are fruitless, because the water doesn’t stir, calm once more and faithfully concealing the monstrosity hiding in it. The swallows chirp from nearby riverbanks, and the sun shines down on the river. Everything seems as it was before, except this time, the piercing, guttural cry of both Minho’s realization and grief cuts through the air. No, nothing is the same, and it never will be.

10 years later.

Minho wipes the sweat off of his brow as he stacks the storage containers on top of each other; the lack of air conditioning in the room is truly a menace to his efforts. Fortunately, the work is almost over, his bed already neatly made and clothes pressed and folded in the little wardrobe assigned to him. 

“You should really take some rest, Minho.” Minho’s mother looks over at him, placing the back of her hand on Minho’s heated forehead. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Minho turns away from her, trying to mask his trepidations with indifference. He takes some of the extra hangers strewn about and hangs up them, before shutting the closet door and glancing around the room, satisfied. Everything is in order, just how he always needs it to be.

“Sweetheart, you can talk to me,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around his stiff shoulders, leading him to his bed and sitting him down. Minho stares straight ahead, avoiding her gaze. If she looked into his eyes, she’d see straight through his facade, more than she already has. “I know it’s hard.”

“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

But she does, she always does worry for him, and Minho knows that. He hasn’t ever been away for home for more than a few hours at a time; this is the first time he’ll be far from home, and permanently, too. 

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” She whispers, hugging him tightly.

He’s long overdue for a haircut, but he didn’t bother getting one. With the shaggy locks falling into his deep brown eyes, along with how his features have finely sharpened over the years, he looks more and more like his father. His mother always says how his father would have been so proud of him.

Minho sighs, patting his Mother’s back gently. “I know, Mom. I know.”

The sound of the dormitory room door opening with a bang makes them both jerk in shock, and they both look over at the entrance. A boy enters, a tangled string of headphones looped around his neck as he drags in a suitcase behind himself. His slender frame is tucked into a plain, baggy t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans, and wears a baseball cap backwards, loose tufts of inky hair peaking out from under.

He pays Minho and his mother no mind as they silently watch him from Minho’s side of the room. The boy doesn’t bother with unpacking his suitcase, just wordlessly dumping its contents into a pile on the mattress before flopping onto his stomach, next to it. He scrolls through his phone for a few moments, before seemingly noticing the other occupants for the very first time. He gives them a small glance over his shoulder, before flicking his eyes back to his phone screen.

“Jisung,” he mutters, barely making an effort to be heard.

Minho blinks, before his mother gives him an encouraging nod to introduce himself as well. “I’m Minho. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Cool.”

Jisung doesn't say anything else, opting to fall silent once more in favor of whatever is so much more entertaining on his phone. Minho looks back at his mother, perplexed, who mirrors the emotion. Obviously, this Jisung isn’t interested in conversation, or much of a relationship with his roommate. Minho’s mother shakes her head, smoothing out a wrinkle in Minho’s jacket. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I can stay a little longer if you want me to.”

“You should go now, Mom. The welcome orientation is starting soon.” Minho tilts his cheek, accepting the kiss his mother places there. She’ll be gone eventually, and it’s better sooner than later, so he can prepare himself.

He walks his mother out of the building, where their second hand minivan is parked. And as soon as they both arrived, his mother is gone, and so is the comfort of her love, her presence. Minho just stands there, rooted to the spot on the sidewalk, watching his mother drive away until the vehicle turns a corner and disappears from his vision.

Adopting his customary blank expression, he makes his way back to the room, passing giddy students and their teary yet proud families. He steps inside and finds Jisung already passed out on his bare mattress, phone lying haphazardly on his chest.

Minho’s turns to sit back down at his desk and read a book for a little, maybe, when he feels something crunch under his shoe. He looks down to see an empty potato chips packet; obviously Jisung’s, and it must have been blown over from the other side because of the gusts of air coming in through the window. Minho glances at Jisung’s slumbering form for a moment, as if waiting for the boy to wake and clean up his mess. But he doesn’t, so with an exhausted grunt, Minho picks up the packet and disposes of it in his trash can, along with his hopes of making any friends here.

Minho weaves through the throngs of partygoers, trying not to pass out. The deafening beat of the bass reverberates throughout the vast room, prolonging the aching headache he’s had since yesterday afternoon. The first week of classes just finished; the workload was heavy, but Minho enjoyed his books more than people, anyway, so that didn’t prove much of a hardship. 

As for friends, he hadn’t made any. He’d intentionally put up a cold aura so that no one would come near him; he didn’t have the patience to brush anyone off. It’s why he can’t complain too much about Jisung— the guy just left him alone and let him do whatever he needed. Minho’s one grievance about him, however, would be how messy he is. Minho’s side of the room is always kept tidy, while at any time in the day, it looks like a tornado ripped through Jisung’s. 

It’s why Minho used the party as an opportunity to escape the dorm, to get away from the filth that he would have to share with Jisung. Even though he knew it would be a bad idea to come out to the back-to-school bash for freshmen that one of the fraternities was throwing, he came anyway. But he should have known better than to try and fit in with all of the other perfectly normal eighteen year-olds here. He’s never been a party person anyway, so here he is now, floating around like a loser while trying to find the nearest exit from the frat house’s outdoor patio.

But his progress is cut off when a heavily drunk frat boy crashes into Minho’s side, shoving him towards the pool that Minho unfortunately failed to notice the dizzying proximity of. Head whipped to the side, Minho stumbles, getting an eyeful of the turquoise, lighted waters of the pool, and moments later, he’s shoved in, an awful case of deja vu written just for him.

It feels like the whole world comes to a standstill when his body smashes into the water. Someone turns off the music, and people gather around to watch everything unfold like a movie. No one makes a move to help him, just letting out intoxicated chuckles at the scene like it’s something truly comical, nothing serious. And it shouldn’t be, barely a few feet of water deep. But Minho still doesn’t know how to swim, and so he thrashes mindlessly in the water, mind frozen over with panic.

Minho tries to scream for help, but it comes out garbled, with all of the chlorine forcing its way into his mouth and keeping him from forming coherent words. The memories of that terrible day come rushing back to Minho. Him, splayed out, afraid and all alone. Him staring out at the water, praying for his father to come back. The rescue boat coming to take him back, wrapping his small, shivering form in a thick towel. His father’s lifeless body being extracted from the river by the patrols, Minho’s mother crying in his ear. 

He’d been saved that day, but nobody was coming for him now. Good, Minho thinks. It was his fault, that day. It should have been Minho and not his father. Minho stops trying to make an effort, and this time, it’s by his own choice. He lets the terror paralyze him, and finally, he’s getting what he deserves. He’s so resigned to his fate that he barely registers someone’s arms around him, steadying him in the water. 

“What in the hell are you doing?”

Jisung’s voice fills Minho’s ears, hurtling him back into reality. Minho feels Jisung’s arms tighten around his waist, and their legs knock against each other in the water. But the agitation doesn’t leave Minho’s body, as he keeps lashing his limbs out in the water.

“I— I can’t swim.” He croaks, trying to inhale and exhale to calm himself down, a technique his therapist taught him long ago. It doesn’t work.

For a moment, Minho thinks that he’s somehow imagined the help, that he’s already died and this is his soul’s strange way of coping. But then Jisung speaks up again, quietly. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

For such a small person, Jisung really is strong, dragging both himself and Minho to the edge of the pool, where he grabs the railing and hoists himself up, before helping Minho out as well. Their audience steps away from the spectacle, going back to their own business, leaving Minho to sputter and cough, while Jisung just watches.

When he’s finished spitting out the mouthfuls of water that he swallowed, Minho looks over at Jisung. He doesn’t know if he really means it, but he says it anyway, because the last time, he never got the chance to. “Thank you.”

“Be careful.” Jisung stands up, stretching out his hand to Minho, who gingerly accepts it. “You never know when some hammered idiot is going to bump into you.”

In an unsaid agreement, the two boys leave the party instantly, having experienced enough of the party culture to last them for the rest of the year. They head towards the bus stop a few minutes walk away, instead of navigating the still-unfamiliar campus in the darkness. Minho walks with his arms wrapped around himself, stealing glances at the other boy, who stares straight ahead, whistling some random tune to himself.

“What song is that?” Minho hesitantly breaks the silence, his hatred for it outweighing the one he carries for conversation, for once. 

“Something I made up,” Jisung states, with a careless shrug.

Minho takes Jisung’s willingness to answer as a sign for him to keep going, to ask the questions that tug at him. “Why didn’t your parents come with you to help you move-in?”

Jisung doesn’t look at him, kicking at a pebble in his way. “Don’t have any.”

“As in—”

“They’re dead,” Jisung says shortly. “Car crash.”

Minho’s insides fill with something akin to sorrow. “I didn’t mean to—”

Jisung cuts Minho off for a second time, but now finally meets his eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Minho shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “How are you able to be so… normal? How can you just move on like that? You seem perfectly fine.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything for a moment, before listlessly gazing up at the sky above him. “Everyone has their own demons. Just depends on who’s better at hiding them.”

Minho keeps quiet and hangs his head down, trying not to let Jisung see the tears stinging his eyes.If Jisung notices, he doesn’t say anything, even when Minho’s voice comes out choked. “Does it ever go away, Jisung? The pain?”

“I don’t know, Minho. I can’t say yes for you, because sometimes it does go away, and sometimes it doesn’t.” Jisung sighs. “But we’ve all lost someone. The best we can do is keep moving forward.”

Minho doesn’t see the point in covering up his tears anymore; his roommate saw a lot more of him tonight than he’d have expected from anyone. The dampness streams down his cheeks freely, but Jisung still doesn’t comment on it, and for that, Minho is grateful. “I don’t feel ready— for any of this. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“No one does, trust me.” Jisung bumps Minho’s shoulder lightly, and usually, Minho would flinch away from touch like that. But he doesn’t, not this time. “But I guess that suffering with a friend is a little better than doing it alone.”

“I guess.” Minho cracks a rare smile at the other boy, as their ride pulls up in front of them.

They both get onto steps of the shuttle, met with the blindingly fluorescent lighting of the inside. The driver scans the newcomers, looking at them with an eyebrow raised. “Both of you headed to Levanter Dormitory?”

“Yes,” Jisung answers.

“What a coincidence.” The man laughs, and Minho stares at him in confusion. “Everyone else on here is also headed to Levanter. Makes my job a whole lot easier.”

Jisung makes his way to the very back of the bus, Minho following suit. There are only six other people on the bus. All of them are dozing off— a common sight at this hour— except for two of the boys— one dressed all in black and the other wearing a navy sweatshirt with the shape of a puppy embroidered on it. Minho passes by them, recognizing their faces from the past few days— in either quick glimpses or snippets of their conversations echoing in the dorm hallways—before taking his seat next to Jisung.

The drive is long, due to road construction happening even this late at night, but no one says anything. And the quiet doesn’t feel uneasy— it’s comfortable, being able to sit and revel in the absence of the pressure to seem interesting. They revel in the mundane aspects of life; Minho fiddles with his hands in his lap, planning out the next day in his head, while Jisung just looks out the window at the city lights whizzing by. 

A loud noise outside cuts through the sanctity, making everyone jump in their plastic seats, and the ones who were previous asleep blink their eyes slowly in waking up. They all gaze out the windows, their young, pensive hearts expecting the worst. Instead, they’re met with the dazzling sight of fireworks, golden sparks exploding above the view of the towering skyscrapers.

The boys exclaim out loud, not bothering to conceal the youthful idealism in their voices of awe. Jisung presses himself up against the window, his breath fogging up the glass. Minho grins, strangely pleased by this new, playful color to his roommate, one that’s just as interesting as his contemplative one. The fireworks keep erupting, casting a hazy glow on everyone’s skin.

“I wish I had my phone to take a picture,” one of the other passengers says out loud, to no one in particular. “I forgot it in my room.”

Minho glances at the speaker, a heartbreakingly handsome boy who looks more like an AI than an eighteen-year old kid. “You can borrow mine.”

The boy smiles at him in thanks, accepting Minho’s phone and using it to zoom in on the lit-up sky. Minho tears his eyes away from the window to look at the others on the bus. Everyone here has their own pain, their own secrets, their own story. Minho would like to know them, and maybe one day very soon, he just might. 

Because Minho knows that every day won’t be easy. There will be days in which time feels like it’s just barely ticking by, and others when it’s moving too fast, leaving stressed students with only seconds to finish their exams. There will be festival days and sleepless nights, good days and bad. But the negative thoughts will always outdo the positive ones if he gives them the strength to do so. 

He’s pushed others away for long enough, unwilling to forgive them, the world, and most of all, himself. But he’s now realized that life really does go on, that the beauty of it manifests in different ways every single day, whether it’s getting pulled out of a frat house pool or bearing witness to a brilliant aerial display. He understands that he just has to keep looking for it, that small light. And maybe these people— the very ones sitting with him on this simple shuttle back to his new home, the ones who could change his life in an instant— could help him find it one day.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you to my impending college first-year worries for permeating my mind & forcing me to write this. Also, quick shout out to the lovely @simpforyongbokk for being my wonderful beta-reader. Honestly... I don't expect this story to get much attention, but either way, I'm dedicating it to all of the others like me, the people who will also be far from home soon enough, those with big fears and even bigger dreams— here's to growing up. Here's to 18.

-Dreamy

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

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[lantur]

updates from day three of Kyoto,

the memories that stick with me:

Climbing Fushimi Inari at 6:30 AM, hearing the birds calling to one another in the forest. The best part wasn't even the iconic torii gates, or the view of Kyoto climbing up Mount Inari. At one point I wandered into a shrine off the main path, in the forest, and I was surrounded by little shrines with literally hundreds of small stone statues of twin fox messengers around me. It was surreal. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

A warm matcha latte at a cute cafe after the hike ❤️

Being faced with the 1001 standing Buddha statues (life-size!) and their 28 guardian deities at Sanjusangen-do temple

Watching the monk stamp and do the calligraphy for my goshuin shrine seal at Daigo-ji ❤️ I'm so glad I started collecting these, I've loved watching the monks perform them.

Coming back to "my neighborhood" after hours of sightseeing cold and STARVING and devouring gyoza, fried chicken, and oysters from Nishiki Market before crashing at the hotel for a while

Crossing the river into Gion in the evening and having dinner at a tiny little, cozy izakaya where I could watch the chefs prepare the sushi and sashimi. The vibes felt amazingly authentic. I also had this amazing grilled eggplant with miso and sautéed shiitake mushrooms and asparagus there.

the challenges:

Still very cold yesterday! Next time I see my doctor, I should remember to mention my struggles with regulating my body temperature. I see other people walking around in skirts, shorts, etc. Objectively, it must not be that cold. Meanwhile I'm freezing, and have to drink hot water/hot tea every few hours to feel "normal." This is a problem for me even at home, under regular circumstances when I'm not outdoors exploring all day.

My feet are starting to protest and ache more, as a result of walking 30-32k steps every day for the last week! I had to take a break from sightseeing at the hotel for a couple of hours yesterday afternoon to rest the old feet. I'm hoping to get a foot massage tomorrow. Also, I brought my running shoes on this trip, which I've been using since June, and the poor things have officially had it. I'll need to replace them when I get back home.

[cyberpunkplaylist]

Tell Him a Vengeful Ghost is Coming...

So this morning I'm feeling that my playthrough 2.0 of Cyberpunk 2077 is more than a bit bloodthirsty. I delete a lot of gangers on sight with this Feral StreetKid character I'm playing. 6th Streeters, Scavengers, Tyger Claws, Maelstrom. Anyone who shoots at me (OR MY CAR) first. I'll stalk em and quietly put a throwing knife into em. Then while looting their bodies, if they're still laying there twitching and only MOSTLY dead, they get a bullet to the head. And I feel a BIT bad about some of em. Occasionally, I'll feel like I'm crossing the line from videogame protagonist to virtual serial killer whose timing belt has snapped in a fairly significant way. I've happened on Scavengers just watching TV and having a barbeque on a grill. And I drill em anyway. I mean, Scavengers are organleggers and butchers, so I don't feel too bad about messing up their relaxing fun day. Especially after seeing their victims piled up by a dumpster in an alley nearby. But looking at a cute ganger girlie kinda twitching on the ground cos I wirelessly stared a short circuit daemon into their wetware? Yeah, I feel a twinge of guilt for a moment. Now that guilt's not as bad as Star Wars Galaxies 20 years ago when I was given a mission to go kill some lunatics outside of Corel City on Corellia. At first I'm like, "Hey, that's not a problem." I was a gunslinger. I tooled right out there with my blasters cos hey, that's just biz. But I get there and I stopped cold.

Those guys didn't seem like lunatics. They were just swimming in the river. Milling about on the riverside. And I couldn't do it. I abandoned that mission. Cos I'm not an asshole. I'd feel terrible about going down there and busting their shit for breathing on a nice day by the water. Arasaka corpos in Cyberpunk 2077 however… I went to a police bounty posting and found some Arasaka mercs and a work team by some dump site. They'd waxed a whole group of pinks and for whatever reasons Corpos have. I zeroed all of em but one. The guy who looked like the squad leader I didn't do immediately. But Arasaka did my partner and has caused me no end of grief in game in a pretty personal way. "Now… There's a reason I didn't kill you, chummer. If you live, I want you to tell them. Tell them I'm coming. All these dead gangers your people have no doubt been monitoring while I cut a path through the city? I pretty much kill them on sight. But that's just cos they're butchers and rapists, human traffickers and not averse to shooting at me. But that's just biz. I'm not some gonk vigilante. I'm a professional. It's not personal.

Arasaka and all your little soldiers though?

I'm pissed with you.

And you're all going to see the extent of that. See this dumpster here? All of your dead team-mates are in there. I put them in there after putting a bullet through each one's left eye. They'll be pretty ripe soon. So listen carefully. Remember this part. This concerns you.

While their corpses are voiding themselves all around you in the stinking dark, I want you to remember my message if they find you in time. If they care enough about your worthless replace-able life to come and find you. If their actuarial tables dictate that you're worth a recovery op. Remember this.

Tell Yorinobu Arasaka a vengeful ghost is coming. Tell him that nothing will save him from its wrath. And in whatever hell he might believe in, I will be his chiefest tormentor. Tell him that what I will do to him will make his strangling his father to death seem the sweetest of kindnesses. Tell him that.

And if you die in this dumpster choking on your own horrified vomit with my message on your lips, I'm sure he can have his techs rip this memory from your rotting brainware. Waste not, want not and all that.

Now…

In you go."

So like... I don't believe myself to be a violent or vengeful person. Each person in the world contains universes. And the thought of taking away all the days they've filled their lives with is horrific to me. (with some exceptions.) But sometimes, my imagination can be a frightful thing.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, May 18, 2024

Severe storms kill at least 4 in Houston, knock out power to 900,000 homes and businesses (AP) Fast-moving thunderstorms pummeled southeastern Texas on Thursday for the second time this month, killing at least four people, blowing out windows in high-rise buildings, downing trees and knocking out power to more than 900,000 homes and businesses in the Houston area. Streets were flooded, and trees and power lines were down across the region. Mayor John Whitmire said wind speeds reached 100 mph (160 kph), “with some twisters.” He said the powerful gusts were reminiscent of 2008’s Hurricane Ike, which pounded the city. Hundreds of windows were shattered at downtown hotels and office buildings, with glass littering the streets below, and the state was sending Department of Public Safety officers to secure the area.

Crew trapped on Baltimore ship, seven weeks after bridge collapse (BBC) As a controlled explosion rocked the Dali on Monday, nearly two dozen sailors remained on board, below deck in the massive ship’s hull. The simultaneous blasts sent pieces of Baltimore’s once iconic Francis Scott Key Bridge into the dark waters of Maryland’s Patapsco River, seven weeks after its collapse left six people on the bridge dead and the Dali marooned. Authorities—and the crew—hope that the demolition will mark the beginning of the end of a long process that has left the 21 men on board trapped and cut off from the world, thousands of miles from their homes. The crew, made up of 20 Indians and a Sri Lankan national, has been unable to disembark because of visa restrictions, a lack of required shore passes and parallel ongoing investigations by the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) and FBI. According to Joshua Messick, executive director of the Baltimore International Seafarers’ Center, the crew has been left largely without communication with the outside world for “a couple of weeks” after their mobile phones were confiscated by the FBI as part of the investigation. “They can’t do any online banking. They can’t pay their bills at home. They don’t have any of their data or anyone’s contact information, so they’re really isolated right now,” Mr Messick said. “They just can’t reach out to the folks they need to, or even look at pictures of their children before they go to sleep. It’s really a sad situation.”

The first Mexican taco stand to get a Michelin star (AP) Newly minted Michelin-starred chef Arturo Rivera Martínez stood over an insanely hot grill Wednesday at the first Mexican taco stand ever to get a coveted star from the French dining guide, and did exactly the same thing he’s been doing for 20 years: searing meat. Though Michelin representatives came by Wednesday to present him with one of the company’s heavy, full-sleeved, pristine white chef’s jackets, he didn’t put it on: In this tiny, 10-foot by 10-foot (3-meter by 3-meter) business, the heat makes the meat. And the heat is intense. At Mexico City’s Tacos El Califa de León, in the scruffy-bohemian San Rafael neighborhood, there are only four things on the menu, all tacos. Rivera Martínez is probably the only Michelin-starred chef who, when asked what beverage should accompany his food, answers “I like a Coke.” The prices are quite high by Mexican standards. A single, generous but not huge taco costs nearly $5. But many customers are convinced it’s the best, if not the cheapest, in the city.

Religious diversity blooms in once-atheist Cuba (AP) The 1959 Castro-led revolution installed an atheist, Communist government that sought to replace the Catholic Church as the guiding force in the lives of Cubans. But 65 years later, religion seems omnipresent in Cuba, in dazzling diversity. The bells toll on Catholic churches and the call to prayer summons Muslims in downtown Havana. Buddhists chant mantras as they gather at the home of a jazz musician. Jews savor rice, beans and other Cuban staples for Sabbath dinner. Santeria devotees immerse the senses as they dance and slap drums. It’s also visible in the growing ranks of evangelicals who worship across the island, or in the pilgrims who travel to the remote shrine of Cuba’s patron saint in the shadow of the Sierra Maestra mountains to ask for health and prosperity during a wrenching economic crisis. Critics say Cuba is still falling short on religious tolerance. But significant progress has been achieved; some call it a time of a Cuban religious revival.

Haiti gears up for battle (Foreign Policy) In the last two weeks, a string of military planes have arrived in Port-au-Prince with equipment to build facilities that will soon house an international stabilization force. The United Nations-authorized mission will be led by some 1,000 police officers from Kenya and supporting personnel from Chile, Jamaica, Grenada, Paraguay, Burundi, Chad, Nigeria, and Mauritius. Kenyan officers are due to arrive in Haiti around the time of Kenyan President William Ruto’s state visit to Washington later this month, the Miami Herald reported. A towering challenge awaits the force. Haiti’s weeks-old transitional government, which will coordinate with the officers, is already plagued by infighting. The gangs wreaking havoc in Haiti, meanwhile, have often cooperated. Gang leader Jimmy Chérizier, known Barbecue, told NPR in an interview on Saturday that the foreign forces should prepare themselves for a long battle.

Massive Ukrainian drone attack on Crimea (AP) A massive Ukrainian drone attack on Crimea early Friday caused power cutoffs in the city of Sevastopol and set a refinery ablaze in southern Russia, Russian authorities said. The Russian Defense Ministry said air defenses downed 51 Ukrainian drones over Crimea, another 44 over the Krasnodar region and six over the Belgorod region. It said Russian warplanes and patrol boats also destroyed six sea drones in the Black Sea. Mikhail Razvozhayev, the governor of Sevastopol, which is the main base for Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, said the drone attack damaged the city’s power plant. He said it could take a day to fully restore energy supplies.

China unveils 'historic' steps to stabilise crisis-hit property sector (Reuters) China announced "historic" steps on Friday to stabilise its crisis-hit property sector, with the central bank facilitating 1 trillion yuan ($138 billion) in extra funding and easing mortgage rules, and local governments set to buy "some" apartments. Investors hoped the measures marked the beginning of more decisive government intervention to compensate for waning demand for new and old apartments, to slow down falling prices and to reduce a growing stock of unsold homes. Analysts have long called for the government to step in with its own purchases to prop up a sector which at its peak accounted for a fifth of GDP and remains a major drag on the world's second-biggest economy.

Taiwan is selling more to the US than China in major shift away from Beijing (AP) Whether it’s tapioca balls or computer chips, Taiwan is stretching toward the United States and away from China—the world’s No. 2 economy that threatens to take the democratically ruled island by force if necessary. These changes at a time of an intensifying China-U.S. rivalry reflect Taiwan’s efforts to reduce its reliance on Beijing and insulate itself from Chinese pressure while forging closer economic and trade ties with the United States, its strongest ally. The shift also is taking place as China’s economic growth has been weak and global businesses are looking to diversify following supply chain disruptions during the pandemic.

Violence and impunity (NYT) Last October, an Israeli settler in the West Bank set a Palestinian home on fire. In January, a mob of settlers chased a truck driver and two of his workers, sending all three to the hospital. And last fall, a settler shot a Palestinian in the stomach in front of an Israeli soldier. Yet the authorities have not charged any of these settlers—or others who have attacked West Bank residents—with crimes. These stories come from a multiyear investigation that my colleagues Ronen Bergman and Mark Mazzetti have just published in The Times Magazine. In it, they document how violent factions within the settler movement have repeatedly received protection from the Israeli government despite attacks against Palestinians—and even against Israeli officials who tried to challenge the settlers. “A long history of crime without punishment,” Ronen and Mark write, “threatens not only Palestinians living in the occupied territories but also the State of Israel itself.” Their story, they explain, “is an account of a sometimes criminal nationalistic movement that has been allowed to operate with impunity and gradually move from the fringes to the mainstream of Israeli society.”

Israel Sending More Troops to Rafah Amid Warnings of Famine in Gaza (NYT) Israel said on Thursday that it would send more troops to Rafah, the southernmost city in Gaza, which has become the focal point in the war between Israel and Hamas. The announcement signaled that Israel intends to press deeper into Rafah despite international concerns about the threat to civilians from a full-scale invasion of the city, where more than a million displaced people had been sheltering. Rafah is the most important logistics hub in the Gaza Strip, the crucial gateway for most of the food, medicine and other aid that has entered the enclave of 2.2 million people. The fighting has led to the closure of a border crossing between Rafah and Egypt. “The threat of famine in Gaza never loomed larger,” the United Nations’ World Food Program warned this week.

South Africa asks U.N. court to order Israel to halt Rafah assault (Washington Post) South Africa made a searing and impassioned plea for the International Court of Justice to order Israel to cease all military operations in the Gaza Strip, arguing that its assault on Rafah and closure of key crossings are aimed at destroying “the essential foundations of Palestinian life” there. South Africa brought a case against Israel late last year, accusing it of violating the Genocide Convention in its prosecution of the war.

Scientists find buried branch of the Nile that may have carried pyramids’ stones (Guardian) Scientists have discovered a long-buried branch of the Nile River that once flowed alongside more than 30 pyramids in Egypt, potentially solving the mystery of how ancient Egyptians transported the massive stone blocks to build the monuments. The 40-mile-long (64km) river branch, which ran by the Giza pyramid complex among other wonders, was hidden under desert and farmland for millennia, according to a study revealing the find on Thursday. The existence of the river would explain why the 31 pyramids were built in a chain along a now inhospitable desert strip in the Nile valley between 4,700 and 3,700 years ago. The once mighty river was increasingly covered in sand, potentially starting during a major drought about 4,200 years ago, the scientists suggested. The Giza pyramids stood on a plateau roughly a kilometre from the banks of the river.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Why did you elbow me? 194

Achilles Castle part 96

Lemonade and lies Part 39

Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek undercover part 3

Kate Beckett: pov Once in the hospital my friend Lanie who is a medical examiner continued CPR on me till another Dr took over for her the rest of the way to the trauma/operating room i was rushed into. My boyfriend at the time Josh who is a cardiac surgeon  happened to be on shift and started the emergency heart surgery. I had a collapsed lung that required a chest tube. In emergency cases like mine they do a thoracotomy. It's a massive sideways incision on your side from your back to chest.

Kirk sanders: pov Wow that sounds like a huge incision.  

Castle: pov oh it is. Kate continues on with her story they also use the rib spreaders for this surgery. Kirk says it sounds painful. He asks if it's to spread your ribs so they can have more space to work. Kate replies with yes.

Kate: pov The bullet hit/grazed my inferior pulmonary vein and left ventricle causing a cardiac tampon my surgeon Dr Kovaks who replaced Josh had to cut some of my pericardium to let the blood out and repair my ventricle, I then went into vfib and they had to use the internal paddles twice, they tried to do manual heart massages but i  went into cardiac arrest again and flatlined. They eventually got me back, I spent a week in the CICU unconscious. 

Sophia: pov Kirk says that is one hell of a story, I can't believe you survived that. Kate says I can't even believe I survived, since my trauma was so severe. She also brings up the fact that she has PTSD and a weakened immune system. Our food finally arrives, and it looks amazing. KIrk is curious about some of her  past cases. 

Castle: pov I ordered the BBQ wings with French fries and Mac and cheese. Kate ordered the wings plain which they grilled for her with french fries and a salad. Sophia and Kirk ordered the spicy wings and Buffalo ones with fried onion rings, fried pickles and French fries. Kate mentions that Sophia and Kirk can drink all they want because she is the designated driver because she can't drink.

Kirk sanders: pov what was a weird case you hand, Kate says let's see I have had a few. I was handcuffed together with Castle in a basement with a tiger. I had a cryogenic case where the guy was murdered by his wife because he had a brain tumor and his friend then stole his head. I had a guy who was dressed as Santa who was murdered and fell out of a helicopter. I had the witness who turned out to be the murderer, the guy who worked in the subway that was murdered because he stumbled onto a kidnapping. The dirty bomb case. Me standing on a bomb. The psychic who predicted her own murder, the weird thing about that case was her daughter told me that. At an important date,  Alexander would save my life. Strange thing is it's Castle birth name, Richard Alexander Roger's. 

Castle: pov Kate goes into more details about these cases and some of her other ones. Sophia Is updating Kate on her life. Me and Kirk are talking about video games. He is telling me something about the Hudson River, you know Kate almost drowned in the Hudson River. We were working a case with the CIA and her car went into the Hudson and her seat belt was stuck and I had to shoot at it to free her. I had to do mouth to mouth until she started breathing, she then proceeded to throw up everywhere once she was checked out by the medics and given some  heart meds, Kate convinced them to not take her to the hospital which they recommend because of her medical history. She was stubborn back then still is. 

Kate: pov it's getting late and I have a murder to solve. The 4 of us part ways with plans to hang out again. I’m so tired once home I change into some pj's and brush my teeth before getting into bed, plug my phone in before i fall asleep. Castle is in his office getting some writing done. 

Castle: pov i save my document on the computer then grab my crutches and head to bed Kate is already asleep. In the morning I wake up early and get ready for the day. I quickly shower and start on breakfast which is oatmeal with fruit. I can hear Kate in the shower, after she is dressed and has taken her medication she starts eating her breakfast. Mother is taking me to physical therapy today since she is free and Kate has to work since she got a murder yesterday. I kiss her goodbye and hand Kate her decaf coffee before she heads off to work. I also made one for Nick, the officer she is working with today. 

Esposito: pov Kate has a meeting with the guy from the drug unit before her and Nick from the gang unit meet with this other guy. I'm in charge until she gets back. I’m waiting for Lanie to get back to me about the autopsy 

Officer Nicholas (Nick) Stephen McSwarek: pov Kate is waiting for me with 2 take out coffee cups in her hand. She says Castle made it, and one Is for you. Which one is it? She points it out saying hers is decaf. 

Captain Ellison: pov thank you both for meeting with me. I wanted to go over some things before your meeting. My guy was under for awhile. He was injured some time yesterday. From the info I have I  think your killer might have injured him. I don't have a lot of details to go on. 

Kate: pov we go over some details of the case. The Captain from the drug unit says be prepared  you might have to go undercover. Our meeting isn't until later, we decided to head back to my office to get some work done, until then. I think we should pack some bags just in case we have to go undercover. To be continued.  ……….

[valueplusautoparts]

Most Famous Picnic Place in Michigan

Michigan is a state that is known for its natural beauty and outdoor activities. There are many excellent places throughout the state where you can get away from the hustle and bustle of city life, including picnic spots that offer great views and access to nature, including lakes and streams.

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, America’s first National Lakeshore, is along the southern shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s beautiful Upper Peninsula. With stunning beaches, 10 inland lakes, and nearly 100 miles of trails, everyone can find something to enjoy at Pictured Rocks!

No matter the time of year, there is something to do at Pictured Rocks!

Summer: visit beaches, backpack, and camp (permit required). Looking for views of the cliffs? The best way to see the cliffs is from the water on a commercial boat tour.

Fall: Autumn colors in the Upper Peninsula are often breathtaking, drive the park roads to view the changing leaves! Hunting and fishing opportunities (state regulations apply) abound during fall!

Winter: Cold weather brings otherworldly frozen waterfalls, called “curtains”. Snowshoeing, skiing, and ice fishing are other popular winter activities. Check road closures and conditions before heading into the park in the winter.

William G. Milliken State Park and Harbor

William G. Milliken State Park and Harbor is located in the heart of Detroit, just east of downtown, along a portion of the city’s Detroit Riverwalk, which provides easy access for fishing, biking, walking and rollerblading.

The park is divided into three areas, including the harbor, the picnic shelter area and the popular berm area. Thanks to recent renovations, the berm now boasts an accessible walkway, handrails and new trees, shrubs and grass. The berm area is especially popular for picnics and wildlife viewing.

At the top of the berm, visitors can view the river and our neighbors in Canada through two new spotting scopes, courtesy of the Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge and Enchroma, that provide an enhanced color view for visitors who are color blind. The berm also boasts an accessible walkway and handrails.

The state harbor provides 52 slips, as well as showers, a laundry facility, grills and picnic tables.

The park is conveniently located near the Outdoor Adventure Center, Belle Isle Park and many other major downtown Detroit attractions.

Tahquamenon Falls State Park

Tahquamenon Falls State Park encompasses nearly 50,000 acres and stretches 13-plus miles in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. The park is home to multiple campgrounds, overnight lodging facilities, a boat launch, more than 35 miles of trails and multiple overlooks to the Upper and Lower Falls.

The 200-feet-wide Upper Falls is one the largest waterfalls east of the Mississippi River. The river’s amber color is caused by tannins leached from the cedar, spruce and hemlock trees in the swamps drained by the river, and the extremely soft water churned by the action of the falls causes the river’s trademark large amounts of foam. Just 4 miles downstream is the Lower Falls, consisting of a series of five smaller falls cascading around an island. The falls can be viewed from the riverbank, all-accessible Ronald A. Olson Island Bridge (honoring DNR Parks and Recreation Division chief) over the Tahquamenon River or by a rowboat rented from a park concession. Drone use is prohibited.

Value Plus Auto Parts is an auto parts supplier in the United States. We offer all kinds of automotive parts, from tires and wheels to shocks and struts, you name it. We also carry a wide variety of accessories such as car audio systems and dash kits.

We have a comprehensive range of replacement parts for both domestic and foreign vehicles. Our team of experts is dedicated to providing high-quality products at reasonable prices. We believe in delivering exceptional customer service so we can build long-lasting relationships with our customers.

Value Plus Auto Parts 8121 Livernois, Detroit, MI 48204, USA +1 31 3931 9999 https://valueplusautopartswholesale.com https://www.google.com/maps?cid=10429367345021126601

[tenaciouspostfun]



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Grass Roots and Herman's Hermits in Concert.

Oldies but Goodies.



By Robert M Massimi.Published less than a minute ago • 5 min read

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Robert M. Massimi.

Until his death in 2011, band member Rob Grill chose replacement band members who would carry on the band's sound for years to come. Since that time, "The Grass Roots" play 100 shows a year throughout the country. Originally from the Los Angeles California area, the band was known for their Folk Rock, pop, pop rock and sunshine pop (arguably, some would even put them in the psychedelic pop category as well).

The band today features the heart and soul of the band, bassist, vocalist Mark Dawson, Joe Dougherty on drums, Larry Nelson on keyboards and Dusty Hanvey on lead guitar. Continuing on its traditions, the band last night churned out 11 songs; aside from a questionable choice of order in those songs, they made their hour onstage pleasurable.

Original songwriters P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri were tremendous in the arrangements, the changing harmonies that earned them 29 charting singles- 13 of which went gold. Only 9 other bands have charted more hits on Billboards Hot 100 than The Grass Roots.

Opening with "I'd Wait a Million Years", the band put the crowd into a groove. The band's second song, "Sooner or Later" should have been the evenings last one. Always a fan favorite, it maybe their most recognizable song. Using a popular Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds cover: "Don't Pull Your Love" was the perfect lead in to the pensive "Let's Live for Today".

As the band really gained their traction, the evenings seventh song and perhaps should have been the second to last song song is the very popular rendition by the band "Love Grows Where My Rosemary Grows" (Edison Lighthouse cover). The Grass Roots popularized this song in the 70's, bringing it to number two on the charts. I am not sure why the band played "Where Where You When I Needed You", a Herman's Hermits song, but they really had a soulful version of this song. This song showed the talent of Larry Nelson on Keyboards.

Ending with "The River Is Wide" and "Midnight Confessions" are two that I would have reconsidered. The Grass Roots are a upbeat band, and are know for their pop, upbeat songs. I think that these two are not signature songs of the band, and a poor choice to close with.

This Grass Roots for the most part fit the image that Rob Grill wanted and imagined. Dusty Hanvey at times struggled on the lead guitar. His playing went from excellent to fair throughout the night. Joe Dougherty at times sounded like he was chopping wood on the drums. His down-strokes were to obtuse making the back beat too staccato. The lighting which is usually a strong point at The Morristown Performing Arts Center was not clear and the choice of colors were questionable. The colors did not match the genre of the music played. At Three Dog Night just two weeks ago, the colors washed well to the music; tonight it just didn't have the proper vibe.

Herman's Hermits.

Peter Noone, from Davyhulme, Lancashire, England got his training as an actor, musician and singer at Manchester college of music and drama. It was there that he founded the group "The Heartbeats". The band would later change its name to Harmans Hermits and later, Herman's Hermits. Noone had taken the role of conductor of the band and from there, Herman's Hermits had a sound of its own.

Because of his training as an actor, Noone (like David Bowie) was always able to bring excitement to the audience. As such, Herman's Hermits quickly became acclaimed as a talented band with a real character as their front man. Having been on regular T.V. shows like The Jackie Gleason show as well as Dean and many more, Noone would act in movies as well. A talented guitarist, pianist, Noone was sought after across all artist boundaries.

In the familiar Union Jack backdrop, Herman's Hermits performed 22 songs in total (many were short formed songs like Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire", "Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stones, "Benny and The Jets", Elton John, "All My Lovin", The Beatles, "Day Dream Believer", The Monkeys and "Do Wah Diddy Diddy"; to Noone, it is as much about the showmanship as it it is the show! And what a showman he is! It did not take long for the audience to figure out that he has an incredible scale range and that his energy makes it difficult to believe that he is 75 years old. Both fit and energized, Peter Noone marched all over the stage in perpetual motion (even in the audience) for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Playing all their hits: "I'm Into Something Good", "Dandy", "Silhouettes", "Mrs. Brown", "You've Got a Lovely Daughter" and ending with their two biggest hits: "I'm Henry the Vlll" and "There's a Kind of Hush", the band was tight all night long feeding the beast of its singer. The stage setup was such that the front man was front and center. The lead and bassist were in the backdrop over Noone's right shoulder, the drummer set far behind his center and the organist off to the left. After all, there is only room for the one big personality at the front, or anywhere near the front.

Like The Grass Roots, Peter Noone was self depreciating about his age, his carrier, where he has been and what he and the band have accomplished. In his British humor he makes fun of his band mates, his family, himself and even his aging audience. Like The Grass Roots, one thing is for certain: both bands love what they do in playing music, still out on the road entertaining their adoring fans.

60S MUSIC

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About the Creator



Robert M Massimi.

I have been writing on theater since 1982. A graduate from Manhattan College B.S. A member of Alpha Sigma Lambda, which recognizes excellence in both English and Science. I have produced 12 shows on and off Broadway. I've seen over700 shows

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RMM

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The Timeless Melodies of the 60's

The 1960s was a decade of profound cultural transformation, and music played a pivotal role in shaping this era of change. From the rise of iconic bands and artists to the anthems of civil rights movements, the music of the 60's left an indelible mark on the world. In this article, we embark on an inspiring journey through the musical landscape of the 1960s, using real-life examples that illustrate the power of music to inspire, ignite revolutions, and create lasting legacies. Let us delve into the captivating world of 60's music, where the melodies of inspiration and revolution continue to resonate with generations to come.

JW

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There was a stranger in Garrett’s kitchen. It was uncanny, the way the stranger looked and acted almost exactly like Jenna, and yet Garrett knew, deep in his bones, that the woman in his kitchen was not his wife. No, not at all. This woman, smiling at him over a plate of scrambled eggs and crisped bacon, was someone else entirely, someone who terrified him in ways he couldn’t explain.

LM

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Chapter 3/20: No Way Back

Total Story Word Count: 13,437

Total Chapter Word Count: 4,109

Story Summary:

Finally, Spamton had completed his end of his deal. He had acquired a human lightner SOUL. There was so much he could do now, so many things… And Yet… There was only one thing he wanted to do. He needed to stop himself from the worst mistake he had ever made. And if it meant restarting from 1997? That was alright with him. Lightner SOULs were very, very powerful. Especially this particular human SOUL.

(Title is link! Under cut for those who don’t want to read on A03)

As dramatic and awfully loud his exit of the Cyber Grill had been, outside it was calm. A soft breeze flowed through the city. It cooled the hot air. Green lines swam through the sky as if they were the city’s pulse. Quiet chatter and walking was all around. Various darkners were heading home or out for fun much like his family the five addisons had. His feet had at first started to lead him to where his ‘home’ was. He’d actually gotten almost halfway there when he remembered. The past. 1997. Both his shop and the area he had claimed as his own were gone. Hours of set up, maintenance, redecorating, fighting to keep it as his spot. All of that. Meaningless. Anything not on his person lost to time, in a reverse way. It hadn’t been much. His telephone, spare worn out clothes, old bowties, broken down cars, and other random junk he collected… But it still hurt. It had been all his junk. Some bits stolen or just thrown away, but still all his. No one else’s.

So instead he walked about the city. Wandered around the shops and homes, reminiscing about the past that was now. He could actually go out in the open without anyone recognising him! It was nice to not hear the laughter and see the pointing from anyone who remembered the fallen Big Shot from his time of fame. No one here knew him. Sure, there were still faint whispers he could hear about himself. He couldn’t escape that with how he looked right now. But they weren’t knowing words. Only words about a stranger that looked rather suspicious just by how odd he was.

He wished he waited at the Cyber Grill to try stealing the conversation. He could have had something to eat, something fresh for the first time in several weeks at this point. Like always he didn’t think ahead nor wait. He jumped the gun and ran his mouth too much. 

The initial plan, if Kris fell through the end of their deal, was to use the money from the KEYGEN to buy a bunch of non-perishables. Maybe even a new blanket. His previous one had been getting to that ‘too ratty to be useful’ point. Perhaps some new pants, or maybe threads to fix what he already had? …Essential things were more important than nice clothes.

As it turned out, being in the past wasn’t so great for his head. He already had issues staying in reality. Now it was worse. Everything was the same because it was the same. Less of a static memory and more the real deal causing upset. He saw several places he knew at a point. One he remembered buying golden shirt buttons at, the first week of his riches. He still had those buttons— Well. He had had the buttons. Just another of many unexpected losses from time travel.

Oh look! Another place he recognised. A family owned sandwich shop that used to be his favourite before he had money for fancier places. They had closed years ago in mid 2005. Something about a chain running them out of business? He didn’t know the details. He’d only found out a few years later after finding it replaced. It wasn’t a concern back then, he was a might bit busier losing money too. Plus several parts of his body, which was more importantly distressing at the time. It turns out planning doesn’t matter if you unexpectedly get dumped in a certain river. He didn’t think he would need health insurance ever, given he had always been a very healthy addison.

A stray thought wondered if Mike planned that. Probably just paranoia, but… No matter what he’d tried, his entire company lulled a slow and painful death after their last call. Every bit of luck died with it. He wasn’t that god awful at being a business-person, was he?

A terrible ache in his stomach reminded him why the sandwich place had stopped him. It wasn’t just reminiscing. With as much confidence he could find after the earlier affairs, he strolled up to the front door and headed inside. The door’s bell jingled softly. He shoved any hesitance as far down as he could.

“Good evening!” Someone said as he entered. “And welcome!”

His confidence fizzled for a moment. He approached the front. It seemed off that no one else was here besides the few staff. The certainty flowed back as he recognised the darkner at the counter. Her name slipped his mind like melting candle wax. “HE Y! PL34SE [Give Me Just A Moment].”

“Of course. Take your time, Sir.”

That was quite nice, he considered as he picked up and looked through the place’s paper menu. The first time in forever that he was called ‘sir’. The oddity of being unknown made his gut squirm. Even though he knew logically that it made sense. He looked similar but not exactly the same as he used to. He didn’t sound right at all. It also had been a while since he ordered food in person. Normally he would find or steal some, rarely bought from convenience stores. Maybe it was too frivolous, spending his limited amount of money on something like fresh food. But the temptation had been too great. He only hoped it didn’t screw him over. Thousands of dollars sounded like a lot until you saw the price tags.

“COULD— COULD— COULD—” He stopped. Then he tried again after a long pause, “COULD I HAVE. WHATEVER SANDWICH IS [Cheapest Prices]?“

“One grilled cheese, coming up. Anything else?”

He shook his head, not trusting his words to break. He quickly paid the cashier and went to sit at a window double chair table. Waiting. Watching. Mostly the outside, since that’s why he chose a window seat. It was a nice view he hadn’t appreciated when younger. Really it was only the outside street, bustling with life and faces he knew but couldn’t name anymore. Cars drove and walked past, ads glowed brighter than any addison on walls, himself talking to random strangers, the road looking quite crowded, even more signs and billboards, plenty more general living things than he could name or even focus on. It was beautiful in a way. It was bright. Way too bright for his poor wide eyes. That’s part of why he had some cool prescription sunglasses— Wait. Himself?

Spamton did a double take when his brain finally caught up to something he noticed. His past self was walking around the sideways, speaking to darkners and wearing such a disappointed face. How weird. Spam had just been at the Cyber Grill. Why would he leave? It was far earlier than Spamton had left there in his time. Hours younger in the night. It made even less sense when one of the strangers pointed at the sandwich shop he sat in, and Spam lit up like a light bulb. There were only three in this place. The cashier, the chef, and—

His actual self.

Oh. 

Wait.

No. 

He couldn’t even try to run away without being very obvious. Or forgetting his sandwich. That’s just what he gets for thinking fresh food is a good idea. An awkward conversation after breaking a table and yelling again at Pascal. Had he really been that trusting at Spam’s age? No wonder an eldritch being had managed to convince him to take a hella shady deal, even while not at first telling him his part. Then again. It’s not like he knew the whole not-from-this-world thing until near the end. 

The sound of the door bell jingling pulled him out of his jumping thoughts.

“Hey, Lina!” His younger self greeted the cashier. Oh that was it! That was her name. Just one of many small things he couldn’t remember. Spamton kept his head facing the window, pushing his glasses down slightly to watch the reflection of the two.

“Spamton! It’s nice to see you again. Aren’t you suppose to be at the Grill with your family?” The cashier, Lina, seemed to perk up at the familiar face. She was just as confused as he was about this. At least. He assumed so. Maybe he was projecting his feelings again, who knows. He certainly couldn’t tell if he was or not.

“Yes, but, well, there was a fight…” Spam hesitated, then the subject changed as he gestured back at Spamton, “I’m actually here to talk to him. Could I have one of whatever he’s having as well? I ran out so quick, I forgot to order something! Eaheha!”

“Of course. A second grilled cheese, right up.”

“Thanks!” Spam smiled at her. He paid for it, and then turned to walk towards him. 

Spamton quickly put on a smile as well, though much faker than Spam’s. He turned his head to Spam. “HEY, [[Little Sponge]]!!! I DIDN;T TH1NK YOU WOULD [Be Here].”

“I didn’t think so either.” Spam sat down in the opposing chair. He lightly scratched at his hands. “I guess it makes sense you came here. This place is really nice!”

“[[Your Favourite Treats!]]” Spamton agreed with a nod. Then he paused, took a breath, and jumped right past any other niceties to the point. “WH Y WERE YOU TRYING FIND [Me] fOR? I ALREADY [Talk]. I DID WHAT I WANTED. I DONT DON’T Don;THA VE [Anything You Want And More!]”

“I just wanted to know where you left to.”

His smile twitched down and he raised an eyebrow at Spam. He hoped it looked just as incredulous as he tried to project. Spam nervously rubbed his hands as if they were cold. He fussed the rest up.

“O...Kay. So. I also wanted to know what that was about.” His shoulders shrugged. He looked away. “I’ve never gotten in an argument so bad that I would want to hit a table. Supposedly you’re me. So… Why did you?”

Ah. That was not as bad a question as he expected. He relaxed his posture and smile, leaning back in the chair. “A [Oh No! Our Table! It’s Broken!] IS BETTER THAN A BROKEN [Nose].”

“…What?”

“BETTER A TABLE?” He repeated, “THAN NOSE?” 

Spam’s face dropped further. His head tilted slightly and his eyes squinted.

“WHAT? [Why So] [Confusing]??” Was he missing something? Was it the tic? What could possibly be so—

Lina stopped their double confusion by setting two plates down with halved grilled cheese sandwiches. “Here you two are. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to flag me back over if you want anything else.”

“THANKS.” “Thanks!” The two chimed at the same time. She walked away with a wave.

Spamton snatched up one of his plate’s sandwiches, shoving it in his mouth. Screw his paranoid thoughts from earlier! This was the best decision he’s made in forever. He picked up his second one as well, opening his jaw to carry on his starving dog like actions.

“Did you— Will I… Break Pascal’s Nose?” Oh. He forgot for a moment why he was less than happy. The food was delicious, truly. But it was soured by his younger self sitting across from him with such an upset expression. He closed his mouth as he considered the words.

“RIGHT ON THE [Kromer]!!! IT. WAS AN ACCIDENT.” Mostly. At the time he wanted them to shut up and stop talking. Not break their nose. He hadn’t even known he could hit that hard! It was more useful to know later on than he would realise in that moment. His hard hitting punch would be a hide-saving grace.

“Why?? When?!” Spam’s upset grew as he lazily picked up one of his sandwiches to nibble. “Do I have to worry about that?”

“[[Not At All]].” Spamton tried to reassure. He tapped the table as he thought back to that night, taking a bite of his sandwich. It was practically seared into his mind. Even in the worst moments of memory he remembered those faces, the blood that flowed from two and caked under his extended claws. He swore that sometimes he saw it on his hands. He didn’t even have nails, much less claws to use for such a thing again.

It had been August in 1999. He had been skipping out on several months of meetups at the Grill. There were more important things to do. He couldn’t waste time with silly things like family and sleep. Plus there were several times that he had been told— no, Commanded— not to go by his benefactor on the phone. Which of course he listened to. Far too often he would claim he could come only to be held up by the phone or even other customers. One restless night he managed to have a free schedule. He could show for once. But. Enough was enough. He couldn’t recall who started to yell first. Him, or Pascal. They always tended to be confrontational. He just never really knew how bad it could get before then. The two of them were the youngest siblings, they had things to fight and argue about. Until then there were no reasons to fight fight. Words had been said and it escalated farther than it should have, even with two elder siblings trying to break it up.

There had been a quick and hot rage burning in him that night, and he swung a fist at them. Out of all the things that came to mind first to quiet their words. Spamton still wasn’t sure why years later. Even at the sound of something cracking and shocked clambering from his other siblings. The look of betrayal on them... He had tried to do it again and there was blood and oh god how could he have done that why had he done that he hit them he hit Pascal and he hit Yael he shouldn’t have done that why did he—

Something yanked him out of the memory. Shaking and glitching he hadn’t noticed slowed but didn’t stop completely. Scratches much like deep trenches trailed in the table, leading to his now curled hand. His sandwich was squished in his grip.

“HUH?? WHAT?” He looked up at Spam— When did he look down?— and saw he had grabbed Spamton’s shoulder. “DID YOU [Want] SOMETHING?”

“You were doing that thing again.” 

That narrowed absolutely nothing down. “THING? WHICH ONE?”

“The glitch thing.” Spam let go of his shoulder and gestured to all of Spamton. “You were talking and then suddenly stopped and turned all… Glitchy and staticky.”

“OH” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to say to that. It was normal for him, he’d lived with it longer than not. He couldn’t really remember when it started or why it happened. “…[Sorry]?”

“Does it hurt?”

He blinked behind his glasses. He expected many questions. How come it happened? What caused it? Could he control it? Etcetera. The one asked didn’t cross his mind. He wasn’t sure if he should lie or tell the truth. So Spamton looked away and ate the last part of his sandwich. Quite literally chewed on the idea for a moment. Did it hurt?

“…Sometimes it does…” He settled on. Then, jolting at the Spam-sounding and glitch-free admission, he tried to correct it. Awkward laughter stuttered out his mouth, “HUH?? IGNORE THAT. I DIDN;T SAY ANYTHING. IT DOESN’T [Hurt? Good.]!!!.! WHERE DID [You] GET THAT IDEA??!”

The unfortunate ability to excellently read faces meant he knew for a fact that Spam didn’t at all believe him. It killed his confidence, but told him not to double down. He was such an open book, wearing his heart on his sleeve as if it were a pride. That hadn’t changed much over the years even leading to Spamton.

“It's just... Seems like it would.” Spam finished off his sandwich as well.

He decidedly doesn’t say anything else to that. Best not to dig a worse grave. Instead he stood up with a half concocted plan. He headed to leave the establishment before the remembrance of how rude that was popped up in his head. So he turned back. Opening his mouth and clattering it closed a few time, he thought. Spamton gestured for Spam to get up and come along, “LET’S GO. NO REASON TO [Stay].”

Though he did stand up to follow, Spam asked, “Where are we going?”

Spamton shrugged, pushing the door open and walking right out. It didn’t really matter where they went, now did it? No where he had to go, and no where he wanted to go. Well, there was one place… But Heaven could wait for later tonight. He had the time now, he didn’t need to rush.

He saw Spam pause at the door to turn and wave at Lina, “Goodbye! See you next week!”

“Bye bye Spam!” She responded in kind before Spamton led him along out the door.

Together the two saundered about the city. Just looking at things. Familiar buildings, familiar faces. Whatever they could find. At least… Spamton was looking at things. He wasn’t sure why Spam still followed him around. Sure he had said they should leave the shop, but that didn’t mean he had to follow. It was nice though. It wasn’t often he had friendly company that didn’t mind his peculiarities too much. Despite it quite literally being himself. Kris had been the last, but even they were scared by his off movements and awful voice. They also were quite quick in fulfilling their deal. It only took them an hour! Quickest deal he’d ever done. They didn’t even stick around to hangout really. Unless asking weird questions like ‘What are you scared of’ and ‘Are you friends with the knight’ was what kids in the future days considered hanging out? That thought made him feel old. He wasn’t that old, was he? He was just 45.

“I [Used Vehicle] TO OWN THIS CI7Y, YOU KNOW.!” He said after a bit, gesturing his arm at everything around them. The sound of other city dwellers was enough to muffle his voice and stop any silence. But it wasn’t enough to quell the building pressure in his throat demanding he speak his thoughts aloud. At least it was enough to make his odd words seem less out of place.

“Really?” The voice of Spam startled him for a moment. He half expected Spam not to respond at all. Spamton nodded, his teeth clacking against each other. 

Throwing a hand up to make it more dramatic, he continued. “REALLY!! I WAS ON T0P OF THE [World]!!!! FOR [Ate] YEARS MY NAMe WAS [Far And Wide] KNOWN.”

Spam’s head followed the hand. It looked up around, at flashing lights and giant billboards. At buildings standing tall and proud, names declared to whomever would look. Disappointment seeped it’s way into Spam’s words. “That sounds nice. What I would give… Did you really come back to stop that from happening?”

“IT WASN’T [What It Seems].” Spamton’s smile twitched. He dropped his hand and his head. His glasses filled with black. “ALL THAT [[Kromer]]! ALL THE [[Deals So Good]]!!! [Mike] MADE SURE I COULDN;T KEEP IT. I JUST. I JUST. IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH. … Why wasn’t it enough..?”

“…Mike? You keep mentioning him.”

He snapped out of the beginning of a spiral, swinging his head back up with colourful glasses once more. He sounded a recording of his old telephone’s double ring. He glitched out a laugh. Taking note of where they were, he changed direction for a specific location. While he could stay out forever if he really wanted to— and probably will be since he had nowhere to go— he wasn’t going to let Spam do that. Especially if he doesn’t have to. “A DEAL’S A DEAL! DON;T TAKE [Mike]’S. DO YOU KNOW WHAT [Mike] WANTED [Me] TO GET???”

Spam gave him a look. In hindsight, that was a silly question. If he hadn’t known, why expect Spam to?

“A LIGHT nER [[HeartShapedObject]]!!”

He heard rather than saw his young self halt. Not wanting to lose what might be the last friendly conversation for a good while, he too stopped and looked behind him. Spam’s mouth had dropped, wide mismatched eyes staring. Much like a spinning mouse cursor that keeps going for minutes, clearly several things were running through his mind. Before Spamton could ask if he was okay, Spam squeake out, “That’s impossible! Wha- Why- How??”

It was a spitting image of when he had been told the same thing. If he put Spam into his old mansion room with the phone and switched his clothes, he would have believed it to be a photo of that day. “THAT’S WHAT I SAID. THEN HE LEFT AND DIDN’T EVEN [Tell Me More].”

He waited a moment, in case Spam had more to say. His young self started up walking again. Spamton followed and their steps were quickly in time.

“You know. Pascal starting that fight got us all temporarily banned from the Grill.”

“HUH?” The abrupt change in subject startled Spamton for a moment. A genuine snort of laughter left him. It was an obvious way to change the topic but still… He wanted to hear this. “RE4LLY?”

“Really! Right after you left!” Spam smiled. He waved his hands excitedly as he started to explain, “I’ve gotten in arguments with them before but… Never like that. Not all of us at once either. And— And, what you said before? How fighting is against the rules? We learnt that quickly. We didn’t even get to eat anything! Too busy yelling. And the table… Well, the money you left went to that instead.”

He honestly forgot that the table would have had to be paid for. Most things he hit were his or public property.

“I’m not sure where we’ll meet up after this for a few months. If… If we meet up. Pascal and Oakley were pretty upset with each other. I’ve never seen her so worked up.”

“TAKE IT FROM ME, [Kid]!” Ooh, this was going to sound so hypocritical he knew. “DONT LET THEM [Avoid] EACH-OTHER. HEY!! WHAT      ABOUT THE HOUSE? [Very, Very Big],, JUST HAVE THEM VISIT.”

“We already do that on holidays.”

“MAKE EVER YDAY A [Marketable Holidays]!!”

“I’d have to ask everyone about that idea… Wait.” Spam slowed a smidge as he finally took notice of where they were. Just in time, too, they just reached in front of the house in question. “Have you been walking me home this entire time?!”

Spamton nodded, quick to pretend as if this wasn’t a random last minute idea. Totally what he planned the moment he left the sandwich place. Yes. It took longer than he expected for Spam to notice, right up to the house. “IT’s LATE, AND I [Doubt] YOU’D WANT TO [Like And Follow] M E ALL NIGHT!.”

“No. I guess not. Thanks.”

They both stopped at the porch stairs. Spamton rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away from the door. Before he could run off with a hasty goodbye, Spam turned to him with an uncertain look. “Hey. Do you… Want to spend the night here? You mentioned living in the garbage. So. You’re homeless. It wouldn’t feel right forcing you to stay out in the cold.”

Yes    ❤️    No

A strange feeling fluttered through Spamton and the world seemed to stutter for a moment. He shook his head to clear it away. He could have swore his answer was just about to be made for him. He decidedly completely ignored that. He tuned back into Spam’s anxious rambles.

Spam had at some point gestured behind him at the front door. “You can take the guest room if you want. I already asked Binx— Well, really I told him I was going to ask you, and that he’d have to deal with it. He actually went along with it? But now I have to do the dishes for a week…”

Spamton made his own choice.

“YOU WON’T STOP ASKING UNTIL [Agree To Terms And Services].” he pointed out with a shrug. “SO I MIGHT AS WELL [Take The Deal]”

“Oh.” Spam quieted. Then he blinked. “Oh! Good, right. Let’s head inside, then. Binx is probably heading to bed soon if he hasn’t already. So you won’t see him. Do you remember where the guest room is��?”

Spamton followed him up and inside, closing the door behind them. His thoughts turned to the odd feeling before Spam dragged him along to the guest room with more conversation. It was probably nothing. He felt weird things all the time anyway.

[miraruinada]

In the morning... There’s a fear of nightfall, when darkness comes and covers all Pain, pain, sometimes we feel pain Pain, pain, sometimes we feel pain

YAH! If he fall on that floor, let him go, GONE! He ain't built for this page in my arc All this champagne put a stain on my heart Don't pick him up, he ain't built for this part If you wasn't here for the lows, WALK! Blick on my hip and I'm dressed like a god Labels like burners, just use em to toss I take a shot and like rivers they part Ya’ll love the fake, I been real from the start Never hesitate to shoot at a star Look at this lane that I made, it was vacant These veggie grill losers don't really want beef All the real dying and fakers replace em Now I see my DNA all in y'all’s feats

We can change, just to feel pain

Talk, fuckers just yap, don’t back up what they talk Cry for me, got so much smoke in my heart Act like I’m gifted and grew up on guard Shorty want __, money, and leverage One out of three, feel like three when I’m in it Wolfy the GOAT, sheep keep it fed As soon as you see me you know that it’s finished And, how can you tell that he’s winning? Floated right through the endemic, no limits Stunted creatively, don’t got a vision I die for my pride, you just hidin in gimmicks PM-50, we ain’t beefin, you dinner Turn a “I’ll do it” right into “Who did it?” Choke em to death with the smoke from this fye Giving these alt fucks hope when I die When I go out tell em Wolfy ain’t give up, he fought Fuck em.

[endlich-allein]

Once again, @iinchicore was very kindly to translate an article for me. This is the interview with Till and Joey in MetalHammer (January 2021). The boys tell about their journey in the Amazon and their future projects together.

A big thank you, lots of kisses and a big hug to @iinchicore ♡

Till Lindemann & Joey Kelly : Friendship Without Limits

MetalHammer: How did the preparations for this journey differ in comparison to your Yukon trip?

Joey Kelly: We took along different equipment. While riding on the Yukon we used sturdy Canadian kayaks, which we couldn't find in Colombia. So we took along our own foldable 15 kilogramme kayak. Due to the climate, our choice of clothing was also different. Besides, the Amazon is much more dangerous than Alaska. There are many dangerous animals, small and big ones. You can find snakes, crocodiles and piranhas, which is why you shouldn't bathe in the river. You have to move differently on the Amazon than on the Yukon, where you only have to keep your distance to bears and elks. Amazonia is a jungle, where only those animals survive who eat the others.

Your first river journey led you to the Yukon, now you travelled on the Amazon. Was there a reason for why you picked that river exactly?

Till Lindemann: We were considering to travel along the Chinese Yangtze or the Lena in Russia, Siberia. Siberia was my favourite, but Joey convinced me to go to the Amazon. We have both been there before and knew a little about how to prepare and what to expect. One thing we knew right away was that, in regard to the nature and people, South America was much more exciting – Siberia looks similar to Alaska. That wouldn't have been all that interesting for our second book. Now the contrast is much greater: Alaska is austere and glum, the Amazon is the exact opposite with an entirely different wildlife and vegetation. Don't forget the wonderful colours of South America!

Any fascinating experiences of nature?

TL: It is really rare to spot an animal in the jungle. You can hear them everywhere, but they hide or are disguised very well. With the help of the local guides we observed snakes, birds, monkeys and a tapir. We saw pink dolphins and watched them do their jumps on the river. Because of their skin-like colour the locals believe they're incarnations of their dead loved ones and worship them.

How did the locals at the river react towards you?

TL: Reluctant, at first. You go to them and, for example, ask whether you can stay the night. They don't really talk much in the beginning, but after a night with a lot of Cachaca they warm up to you. Usually they were interested in our fishing gear. Most of them had never seen something like it, as they were used to fishing with rolled up strings and nets. I was amazed that every village we visited, no matter how remote the location, owned fridges with cold beer, they even had solar energy. Huge satellite dishes to watch football. For three days we visited one particular village. There was a storm, so they allowed us to stay. There was an older guy who had fallen off his stilt house, drunk, and broke his foot. Two young men went to the neighbouring village, a day's journey away, to get the shaman. The man should have belonged to a hospital, but that was entirely out of the question for him. It either heals on its own or it doesn't. We bandaged his foot and supplied him with pain meds. Then we continued drinking.

Did you plan beforehand what you wanted to see during your journey?

TL: Yes, a coca plantation. We knew that they existed there everywhere. At first, it was a lot of back and forth. They were staving us off, but after a lot of endless waiting and our patient agreeing to it, they allowed us to go. Along with two attendants from the village, we paddled down a branch of the Amazon that became narrower over time. A labyrinth of branches we would have never found our way out of. Eventually, we ended up at one of the countless plantations. It wasn't harvest time, however, so the leaves weren't ripe yet. But you could see all the tools for it: mashers, bags, and hundreds of bowls. And a little storage.

Did you try the coca leaves?

TL: Yes. We were on the plantation. They hid the plants below banana trees, so you couldn't see the plantation from the air. I did try a few coca leaves, but there is no sorcery about it. You just stay awake and feel energized. Everybody is chewing on them there, it's like coffee, just ten times stronger.

Did you reach your physical limits during this journey?

TL: The body adjusts to the climate pretty quickly. After three weeks you don't sweat all that much anymore. Even the sun doesn't bother you as much anymore, because you're thoroughly cooked anyway. But the humidity requires getting used to. The people there are handling it very differently. They own to pairs of shorts, two t-shirts and beach slippers, and they walk around like that all day.

JK: The climate there is exhausting, you're sweat-soaked after only three minutes. Personally, I don't mind it, but to people who aren't used to it it's a pain. The route we went on was quite difficult in parts, it was very serpentine. You had to paddle the whole time, you had to steer, then there were shoals or the water became too flat, so we had to relocate the boat.

You didn't capsize though, like it happened to you on the Yukon?

JK: No, the water level during that season was way too low. Later on, when the water comes in from the Andes during the monsoon season, the level rises by 15 metres. It drowns out entire forests.

TL: I was there once during the monsoon season. Back then only the tree tops were peeking out of the water. That's why they build their houses on stilts, so the water doesn't reach them. Many villages are located on mountain tops, as the water level won't rise that high.

Considering the many preparations and daily challenges, did you ever find time to relax during such an extensive journey?

TL: Travelling on the Yukon wasn't stressful, because we were sleeping on the sandbanks. Those experiences made travelling the Amazon even easier. As the sun goes down very early there, our only concern was to make camp before 6PM. Whenever we found a good location we sometimes made camp even earlier than that, instead of travelling on and risking not finding a good spot. That only happened to us once, so we had to sleep in the jungle, which wasn't all that bad either.

With a camp fire and night watch?

TL: A camp fire, yes, but we didn't need a night watch. You have to trust your guide, those guys know what they're doing. Our guide went ahead a couple of metres with a bit of string and, within a few minutes, came back with six piranhas. Then we turned on the grill and ate. Piranhas are really tasty, like giltheads.

Did you gain more respect for nature due to this journey?

TL: I had a great respect for nature before that already. Still, I couldn't hold myself back from taking pictures with snakes. I love snakes, Joey thinks they're scary. (laughs)

What did you learn along the way?

JK: I asked the Indians to teach me how to fish with a cast-net and pulled animals out of the water, which an aquarist would usually pay thousands of euros for. Scalars, discus fish, loricariids, sisorid catfish, catfish in all shapes and sizes.

Here in Europe we read a lot about the fact that these romantic times might be of the past soon, due to the systematic ecocide. Is that what you saw over there?

TL: When you approach Leticia you can make out the slash-and-burn methods used below. We assume that every minute jungle area the size of 1.5 football fields gets cleared, for soy plantations or pasture areas. The search for gold is also devastating for the nature. They use mercury to wash the gold out of rocks and clay. The mercury ends up in the rivers, in the fish, and then inside the people.

JK: The Amazon traverses through the entire continent. It is so broad and deep, there are even bigger ships cruising the river than on our rivers here in Europe. They carry natural resources, mainly wood. You can find a sawmill every couple of kilometres. They carry the tree trunks there and cut them along the length (4m by 1,20m or even 4m). Those planks then get transported either by ship or overland, a systematic deforestation of the Amazon area.

TL: You find a lot of filth in the main stream: huge tree trunks, garbage, bags full of plastic, and a lot of wood waste. It's illegal, but everybody does it. Very obviously, even during the day, nobody cares.

Are the locals not aware of the drastic situation?

JK: The sawmills pay the farmers 250 to 300 euros for one tree trunk. The sawmills sell it for 2.500 euros, and then here in Europe it costs up to 30.000 euros.

TL: As soon as they saw us, the lumbermen turned off their chainsaws and fled into the forest, yelling: “Piss off!” They were afraid that those pictures would be seen by the world. Same thing for the fisheries. Usually, the fish leave the lagoons during the dry season and swim back into the main stream, because the lakes dry out. The law allows it that they cast a net over half of the lake, so that a part of the fish can swim past. Now, the fishermen close off the entire lake, with up to ten nets. No fish can get past that anymore, only the very small ones. They're overexploiting the area high and low. They even steal all the turtle eggs from the clutches. It didn't used to be that way, back then they would leave half of it where it was.

Do you think that could change, if other types of income would replace the exploitation, like tourism?

JK: I don't think that the parts Till and I went to would be suitable for commercial tourism. Let's be honest, the biggest income is ensured by the coca production. You would travel right into a drug area. We could only move around freely there, because the government was taking care of the cartel conflicts at the time. Apparently, the military is now in charge of the coca trade.

TL: Corruption is the order of business. A policeman is earning less than a coca farmer. Thus, bribery and blackmail are commonplace. Almost all of it is illegal: fishing with the many nets, the gold-seeking, the wood clearing and the coca plantation. The areas are huge and hardly controllable. Since president Bolsonaro is in power in Brazil, the clearing business went up by 30 percent. Bolsonaro announced officially that the Amazon is a product, and that's how the people treat it. They expel the indigenous people and allocate them to surrogate areas, their land goes to the gold-seekers and their prospecting rights. The surrogate areas aren't of any use, however, so they don't live in villages anymore, but in small cities. That'll turn out to be very problematic in the future.

Was it a bizarre experience to you to live with indigenous people, even though it is said that there is no room for the white man?

JK: I've seen tourism in parts of the world where I'd have never expected it. An example would be the South Pole. Once I reached by goal there a plane landed, six tourists came out and paid several thousand dollars for a four to six hour long stay. I thought there was a lot less tourism at the Amazon than anywhere else. The only tourists who travel there are either extremely rich Americans or Russians who come in by helicopter, no matter how expensive the journey. As long as they were there once in their life, took a picture with an Indian and a monkey, then they fly back to Bogotá. All in all, you only meet natives here.

TL: You have to differentiate. There are also motor boats and Americans with sun hats on, sleeping in their loggias. But not in the area we were in. There were children there, who pulled at our pants and ran to our kayaks, because they had never seen anything like it. A canoe made of plastic! They only know boats made out of wood. The kids played with our fishing poles, the angling reels, and were amazed by our lures and wobblers. They had never seen something like that before. They only knew of the hooks, where you put a little meat on. There was a lot of curiosity.

Did the journey affect your friendship at all?

TL: Our friendship didn't get any better or worse, it's been a good friendship before. We want our travels to be periodic. Joey and I want to grant us this sort of time off every two, three years. We realized we're getting better at it. We drove down rapids. While travelling on the Yukon we would have peed our pants, but now we're capable of really daring manoeuvres among waves that are 1.5 metres high. You get well attuned over time, become more experienced with the daily routine, the luggage, moving around.

JK: That was one of the reasons why we planned out the next trip right after our Amazon journey. We paddled down the Rhine in August 2020. We decided to do this during the Corona pandemic, because like that we didn't have to travel through so many countries and still got to tell the entire river's history, which led us through Switzerland, Germany, Liechtenstein, Austria, France and the Netherlands.

Do these travels to the Yukon and Amazon satisfy your wish for solitude?

TL: Like we said, we already travelled along the Rhine. The Nile will be next. The Mekong river is also on our list, but with the goal to start at its origin. These journeys are really important to us. We might have published up to six books some time. We still have a couple of goals ahead of us: The Nile, maybe the Mississippi, one Russian river and the Mekong. Like that we would have visited a river in almost each part of the world.

Which seems to be a difficult goal to achieve, considering the current Corona pandemic...

JK: Sadly so. Because even if Germany will be cleared of the virus, that might not be the case for Tanzania, where the Nile originates, or in Egypt, where it ends. There are five countries in between, after all.

Symbolically, what did you take home from this journey?

TL: Humbleness! And gratefulness for what we have. At the same time, however, a sort of incomprehension for how we live here in Europe. With so much waste, lunacy and luxury. The people we met didn't really have anything. Property and wealth don't mean anything. The huts, the boats, tools, even the TV, it all belongs to everyone. You eat and drink together, and most of the work is done as a community. They say people are happier there. I won't be the judge as to whether that's true, but life there is simpler, more manageable, and thus people there live more modestly. In Germany people get up in the morning, rush to the office, are stuck in traffic, sit at the computer all day or manage machines, rush back home in the evening. In comparison, it's very relaxed at the Amazon. The people go to bed early, when they wake up they go fishing, hunt or raise manioc and corn. Life there is structured in a very simple way, it's been reduced to only the bare necessities.

What is the first image you see when you think of Amazonia?

JK: Looking back, I'm always thinking of this one boat ride very early in the morning. It was still foggy when we started paddling. To the left of us I can still barely see riverside, apart from that only fog, I can only see for two, three metres. We are on the Amazon without knowing what's ahead of us. It's quiet, there is no wind, the water is calm... That was a great experience.

[melisa-may-taylor72]

For the first time an Argentine publication was specially invited to the United States to attend the concert, party and subsequent press conference of the group QUEEN. This compliment that corresponded to PELO, made it possible to see and hear the performances of the English band in New Orleans and Miami. We also got interviews with the group and its current producer. As a preview of all that material, we reproduce the review of the New Orleans concert witnessed by our special envoy.

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New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans with all its huge genesis of jazz and blues. With a history of mystique and art born on the banks of the Mississippi River. A city where the constructions and the european style (Franco-Spanish) coexist in eloquent contrast with the steel, cement and glass that constitute the visible face of this country. And this is where we come to listen to one of the most powerful English rock bands: Queen. It’s no coincidence. Their new album is called “Jazz” and New Orleans breathes it everywhere. This charming city that seems unreal, welcomed a group of journalists from various nations, invited especially by EMI to attend the concert, the party and subsequent press conference that Queen was going to give. New Orleans was the third date of the 32 concerts that the band was going to perform in 29 cities throughout the country. With overwhelming success in Europe, this tour marked Queen’s final coup in the United States. And they did, because the band is playing like never before, with much more rock and roll than when they started. This is what happened on stage.

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An hour before

The concert in New Orleans would take place in the Auditorium, an immense theatre belonging to the city with a capacity for 20,000 spectators. This was Queen’s third performance in the United States, having played two days earlier in the legendary Memphis (Tennessee). The show would start at eight o'clock in the evening, and an hour earlier we decided to go to the concert site to recognize the field. The Auditorium is located practically in the centre of the city, so the access to the place, and later exit, were done quickly and efficiently. The concert is barely an hour away and the people is waiting in front of the gate numbered one hundred. We approached to chat a little with the boys who wander around drinking soft drinks or the very light American beer. Almost everyone sees Queen for the first time and, not coincidentally, their number one band is Led Zeppelin. Everyone shows they know a lot about the band and gets excited when a colleague from Argentine television and his cameraman starts filming them with the camera. 
When we retire, we observe the four enormous trucks that carried the stage that Queen uses in their shows. We return to the hotel where a special bus will take us to the stadium.

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The stage 

The Auditorium of New Orleans is a large rectangular cement stadium. It has a plateaus tray that surrounds it completely. In the lower part no seats were placed, while upstairs it is easy to settle in the bleachers, where there are a lot of exits and corridors to the outside. People enter comfortably and quickly and there are few policemen, who act as ushers, indicating where to place themselves and how to avoid crowds. New Orleans has among its traditions the Mardi Gras (our carnival) so it is customary to attend disguised events. Thus four witches, a mummy, three wild animals, a princess, two Martians, and some more difficult to identify parade before our gazed eyes. Everything serves to color the party. The stage is about thirty meters in front and ten meters in deep. At the sides there are two platforms one meter high, just below the columns of reamplification. These hang from the ceiling of the stage in two groups of six. The stage is open, in the dark. You can only see a kind of grill of lights, hanging directly in front of the audience. In a few minutes the stadium fills up. The turnout is estimated at 18,000 people. All tickets were sold in advance, at the sole price of $8.50. There are no numbered locations and the ones that arrive are the ones that get the best location. There are no fights and everything runs smoothly. In the area without seats are located two huge consoles: to the right the computerized system of programmed lights. These are the stage lights, up and to the sides, and the ones that fall from behind in front of the stage. To the left is the console, with sound -one of them- and just like the previous one it doesn’t have no guards or barricades around it.

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Opening

It’s half past eight and with the stadium full, all the lights go out. The screaming is infernal and is only subdued by Queen’s music. The stage is illuminated when the huge console of 500 red, green and white lamps is lit alternately. As a dense column of smoke emerges from the floor, the console begins to rise backwards, finally forming the roof of the stage. The effect is achieved and makes the crowd shout even more. Music is the basis of rock and roll. Now we see the musicians. May on the left, Deacon on the right, Mercury on the right, and Taylor with his drums back to the center. On the right you can see the great grand piano that Mercury used several times. The battery is mounted on a three-storey platform with white light spots directed at the public. Above Taylor’s head hangs a huge gong also surrounded by lights, and to his right, a pair of timpanis. Mercury sings “We Will Rock You” in a revamped rock and roll version. The bass supports the tones with astonishing security and the rhythm invites movement. 
Mercury sings like on records, the whole group sounds perfect in a clear, undistorted stereo. It moves with the grace of a contortionist or a classical dancer, always clinging to the microphone reed, a kind of cane that will be used in a thousand ways throughout the show.

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Berry and Hendrix

“Good night, New Orleans,” shouts Mercury and the audience responds enthusiastically. We still can’t react to such a flood of light and sound, when Mercury sits at the piano to attack.
“Somebody To Love”, a beautiful gospel song that allows us to enjoy Queen’s best instrument: their voices. The band threshes the song safe, comfortable, and on the end Mercury plays a solo that stands the audience up. Almost without breathing we passed to one of the top albums in Queen’s career: “A Night At The Opera”. The opening, “Death On Two Legs,” is Brian May’s blunt and overwhelming guitar display. There are probably a dozen guitarists more skilled than him in rock, but very few have the ability, style and imagination that he possesses. His guitar is main part of Queen’s original sound, at times with a rancid and distorted hue and sometimes clear and classic. Almost without stopping they continue with “ Killer Queen”, one of the first successful songs in Buenos Aires. A combination of hard rock with Beatle style vocalizations. The main instrument in this song are the voices of Mercury, Taylor and May. This time the next song “I’m In Love With My Car” is hooked and starts with a heavy riff. Mercury’s voice transforms into Chuck Berry. May makes a very polished solo with a very Hendrix sound (he loves him) and Mercury stands next to him gesturing with the microphone as if he were an imaginary guitarist. At the end he sits at the piano and abruptly the song becomes “Get Down, Make Love”, a true monument to heavy rock. A dense, choppy riff, supported by the piano and the forcefulness of rhythm. Then the stage lights go out and the lights begin to turn on the audience. The lights run through the stage rack in a precise effect. May plays all sorts of effects with his guitar, accompanying Mercury’s vocal acrobatics. The drums explode and the riff repeats itself tirelessly. The next track is “You’re My Best Friend” a moment of tranquility for everyone with this song in the best style of the ‘60s.

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The new trick

We all need a break, but it’s very brief because Mercury announces that the next one is a John Deacon song, using a play on words. He sits at the piano and starts “ Spread Your Wings”, a typical American ballad, with a Mercury deeply inspired by Mc Cartney - isn’t that wonderful? The end is prolonged with the band to all orchestra and the surprise arrives. From the top of the stage, another stage begins to descend with a complete set of drums. The synchronization is perfect, and when the song ends the stage is already installed. The new stage fits perfectly with the platforms located on the sides, leaving the musicians one meter above the audience. May takes the guitar, Taylor sits on this new drum set that has the cover of “ News Of The World” on the drum. That’s how the acoustic set begins. It starts with a very raw, super rancid boogie. With this song we forget certain insecurities in Mercury’s voice, perhaps because of tiredness.
Mercury clarifies that the next track was specially composed for New Orleans and will not be played on tour “Dreamers’s Ball”.The fake trumpet solo is a beautiful parody by Brian May. The audience is delirious and clapping. Everyone participates and the festive atmosphere is increasing. In front of the new stage a curtain of lights is formed that astonishes and gives rise to the jokes of the musicians. The acoustic end is in charge of May and Mercury. Alone, sitting in the middle of the new stage, they sing the beautiful ballad “ Love Of My Life ”. The audience is restless and doesn’t pay much attention to this number. In our country it would have had a sepulchral silence, but they see bands like this every week. 

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Acrobatics and rock

“39” ends this singular set. A correctly played skiffle, where the vocal arrangements replace the bronzes. Everything is dark for a few seconds and when the spots are turned on, May is placed on the left platform and Mercury on the opposite one. They start with the riff of “It’s Late” and the stage rises again. At the right time it allows Deacon and Taylor to be seen on the original stage. May and Mercury descend and the song becomes more intense. Not surprisingly, our astonishment was overcome. Mercury and May constantly cross from one end of the stage to the other. This is democracy, no kid is left without seeing his idol up close. “Fat Bottom Girls’ is the single from Queen’s new album. A song with country airs and a title that… we leave it to the music writer. The beginning of the song is a vocal acrobatics of the four. A resounding display of their ability to sing, with those undulations of the chorus that we thought impossible to hear live. The song comes to life with May’s riff, perfectly marked by Taylor with a crushing tempo. They continue with “Sheer Heart Attack”, an accelerated rock and roll from the LP “ News Of The World”. May’s guitar becomes incisive, crackles and howls. There is one of the most fantastic rock guitarists. Halfway through the song, Mercury leaves the scene for an inspired May. Then a long improvisation begins. First a funky rock that slowly morphs into a total experiment. May uses the Echoplex and we discover that he admires Hendrix without itching. His guitar is multiplied, first by three and then by ten. The notes are scattered throughout the auditorium, filling it with mysticism. Listening to May pull out unimaginable sounds from his guitar, one understands the ‘why of the dispensing of synthesizers in Queen’s music. The guitar replaces the strings, the winds, and the keyboards, of course. Everything is done on the basis of a simple but effective polyphony. May obtains a diabolical combination of sounds between the attack of the strings, in high, with the finger prepared for the intervention of the harmonic, and the dose of saturation and maintenance (sustain). This orchestral concept of the guitar has references in two other great English guitarists: Steve Hackett and Robert Fripp.

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Grand Finale

The end of the song is the beginning of another brilliant rock: 
“Keep Yourself Alive,” the opening song of the album “Queen I’. The end is by Taylor, who does some passages on the tom-toms and the timpani, with sound effects of glissando. Mercury leaves the center of the stage. Next to the piano an assistant is waiting for him who has helped him all night by holding him and reaching for the microphone. Freddie sits down and the first bars announce "Bohemian Rhapsody”. The screaming is hellish. Mercury’s piano playing is perfect. 
May does a solo identical to the studio version, and I wonder how they’ll do the opera part… There’s the answer. The stage explodes with smoke and colour and the musicians disappear. The stars are now the lights. The immense, luminous ceiling that covers the stage makes all series of combinations and routes, always synchronized with the music. What my mind associates most quickly to describe what happens, are the images of the film “Close Encounters”. 
But before leaving this hallucination, they magically appear for the rocker ending of “Rhapsody…”. The end explodes of light on the drummer’s stage, with a blinding effect, and Taylor hitting the giant gong, which he uses only in that song. The group disappears and the whole stadium stands up and asks for more. The classic lighters begin to light up in a sign of approval. Some red light bars also appear; similar to those in “Star Wars”, one can’t help but smile at such sophistication. Several minutes pass in which the public kicks the cement until it shakes.
Then they return to the stage to play “Tie Your Mother Down”. We are all standing up and living the ceremony of rock. 
The four of them have changed their clothes. May looks like a fairy with her long hair, her very long body that moves in the wide sleeves of his kimono. 
Mercury is standing on the stage, dancing and gesticulating, until May joins him for his solo. Again the drum lights explode and the band disappears again. Nobody wants to leave, we think they won’t come back. Exactly two hours ago the concert started. 
Yet they return and again a different outfit. They changed for the last two encores, a masterstroke… Taylor’s drums start with a super-heavy beat. It’s “We will rock you ” in its original version. Mercury only sings the first few stanzas, leaving the chorus for the crowd. 
Everyone responds, and this chorus of thousands of throats singing in time moves us to a shiver.
May and Deacon have already embarked on the final phrasing, located on the left side of the stage. Suddenly, on the opposite side, a spotlight 
finds Mercury and starts “We Are The Champions”. Once again, 
you see the crowd supporting the melodious chorus. A great ending. 
The four musicians step forward and bow. With the stage empty, covered with smoke, the lights are lowered again, while the recording of the closing track “A Night at the Opera (God Save The Queen)” is played. 
No one leaves, everyone howls frantically. But Queen won’t be back. Some take comfort in running to buy their T-shirts and badges of the group, which are only sold at concerts.

Article by “Pelo” Magazine, November 1978

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @foxmonkey, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog,
@redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian

[vague-shadows]

“Home doesn’t have to be a white picket fence house...”

(aka More Found!Family Feels feat. Alex and Sanders)

Read it on AO3 here

Once he’s parked his car and turned off the engine, Alex takes a few moments in the car to focus on just breathing. He reminds himself that it’s just a conversation after all.

But there’s no denying that it’s a very important conversation.

With a resolved sigh, he grabs his backpack from the passenger seat and makes his way across the dusty yard full of scattered scrap metal and a few half-reconstructed cars.  He hesitates for just the slightest moment, but quickly recovers his nerve, knocking his knuckles deftly on the door three times, and sending a small flurry of paint flakes to the porch floor. On the other side, Alex can hear the sound of heavy footfalls coming to answer the door.

“If he ain’t out in the airstream, I don’t know where he is,” Sanders says as he swings open the door.  “He’s not here though.”

“Well, actually, Mr. Sanders, I’m not looking for Michael. I came to talk to you.”

Sanders sighs, a bit of annoyance crossing his face. “I’m off the clock, son. If that alternator is already giving you trouble again, though, it might be time to consider—“

“I’m not here about the car. I just need to talk to you about something important, if you’ve got some time?” He reaches down in his bag and pulls out the bottle of Jack Daniels he brought in hopes of facilitating things. “And maybe time for a drink or two?”

“I hate to think what kind of ‘important talk’ you think I’ll need a fifth of whiskey to endure.” He crosses his arms and regards Alex with some suspicion. “You kids getting mixed up in trouble again? It’s been too quiet lately. I guess you’re about due.”

“Not trouble, just a talk and a drink. Nothing’s wrong I promise.”

Sanders studies him a few moments more, and sighs. “Come on in, then.” He swings the door open wide and waves in the general direction of the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get us a couple of glasses.”

Alex makes his way to the ancient brown couch draped in multicolored knitted blankets and takes a seat on the edge to avoid sinking into the well-worn cushions.  Isobel threatens to use the couch-and half of Sanders’ other furniture-for a bonfire at least once a month, swearing to replace it with superior, carefully designed replacements. But Sanders has absolutely no desire to hand over the interior design of his house to Isobel, however persistent she may be. 

Alex smiles, remembering her latest rant. “I mean, honestly! He’s even worse than Michael! What would it hurt to spruce things up a bit?” The memory sets him a little more at ease—he was here just last week, after all, gathered with his found family at the picnic tables Michael and Max built for the backyard, eating the burgers and hotdogs they cooked on the grill and sipping beers as the sun went down. 

“Okay, I’m too old for suspense,” Sanders says as he places the two empty glasses on the coffee table in front of Alex. “So start talking while you start pouring.”

Alex had it all worked out in his head. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. But now the moment is here he couldn’t recall the well-structured speech if his life depended on it. Instead, he has to settle for the stuttering start of, “Well, I wanted to talk to you because—well, you’re important to Michael.”

“Is this some kinda thank you for not firing him for keeping the worst hours of any mechanic west of the Mississippi? Cause you might need a bigger bottle…and he should probably be having whatever conversation this is for himself instead of making you get yourself all worked up and come do it.”

“I’m not worked up,” Alex counters, mortified to be so transparently nervous. “It’s just—an important conversation because you’re important to Michael and Michael is important to me, and, well, I’m proposing and I thought—it just seemed right to talk to you before I did.”

Sanders stares open-mouthed, apparently shocked to silence, and Alex goes on because he can’t quite quell the nervous rambling.

“I’m not asking your permission but—your support, I guess? And just—in the interest of respect, because you’re the closest thing to a father—”

“Now, hold on just a minute with all this. I’m nobody’s father. And nobody was Michael’s father, least of all me.  That boy had to raise himself, and he did a damn good job of it.”

“You’re right,” Alex concedes, “but you still gave him the closest thing to a real home he’s ever had.”

“You sure you didn’t start drinking before you came over? Because you’re talking some crazy—“

“I mean it.” Alex meets Sanders’ gaze, refusing to give in to his attempt at levity, and keeping the solemnity the conversation deserves. “When we were kids—he always knew he could come here—that he could crash on your couch; that he had a job; that there was a safe place for him—whenever he needed it.” Sanders looks away, taking a sip of whiskey as Alex continues. “He told me how you helped him get the airstream—how you looked the other way when he took the wire to sell for some extra cash—that you let him keep hours that worked for whatever he was going through—let him use the tow truck to work off his community service he got busted for bar fights.  You’ve been one of the few constants in his life for going on two decades. That’s no small role to play for anybody, least of all Michael Guerin.”

Sanders clears his throat, clearly trying to skirt past the emotion stirred by the words. “Okay, so, God knows why, but the kid likes junkyard life. And that’s why you want my blessing before you propose? Then, sure; of course; you got it.” He pours himself another round of whiskey and takes a slow sip. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s pretty much everything I came to say.” 

“So we can roll credits on this Hallmark movie?” 

The sarcasm and petulance are so much like Michael—proving his point all the more—that Alex can’t suppress a small smile. “Yeah, we can roll credits, and I’ll just let myself out. Thank you, for supporting this but for all the other ways you support him—us—too.” He rises to his feet and slings his bag over his shoulder, honestly grateful the conversation is done and went well even if Sanders didn’t parse words in giving his approval. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Sanders.” 

“Alex?” Sanders calls just as Alex’s hand closes on the doorknob. 

He releases his grip on the door and turns back around. “Sir?”

“I feel old enough without you calling me ‘sir,’” Sanders grumbles.

Alex shrugs. “Just habit.”

“He’s better when you’re in his life, you know that? Stays sober more than he gets sauced. Doesn’t go picking fool fights he can’t win. Just about drives me crazy, whistling like a goddamn canary while he’s working. Daydreams with that dopey grin on his face that usually means he’s so distracted he’s about to forget where he’s at and slam the back of his head on the car hood he’s working under.”

Alex laughs outright at the memories the words summon—witnessing a couple of those uncoordinated head slams and shouting matches. I swear to God, kid, if you whistle Red River Valley one more time I’m gonna lose what’s left of my mind!...You’re the one that taught me the song in the first place, old man!...Yeah, to play on the guitar and not to be whistled ten thousand times in a row, for fuck’s sake!...

“You make him happy,” Sanders summarizes with a rare, earnest smile. “He’s a good kid—a good man—both of you are.  And you two both deserve to be happy. Don’t think I missed the fact that Michael ain’t the only one who had to raise himself to be better than the adults he got stuck with. It’s a hard thing and you both did a helluva job. You should be proud of yourselves.”

 Alex has to blink away unexpected tears at the declaration. “Thanks.” 

Sanders shrugs. “It’s the truth.”  He takes another sip of his drink and waves at Alex to go. “Now, get on with the rest of your night so I can get on with mine.” 

Sanders reaches for the remote to turn on the television. Alex lets himself out and heads for his car. He sits for a few seconds before he cranks the engine, smiling with a bit of disbelief at how well things just went.  He finds himself whistling along with the radio as he pulls out of the junkyard. Now one of the most daunting parts is taken care of, he just has a few more details to take care of before he can finally propose.

Because we’ve worked so hard to get to this place where we’re good for each other… and we deserve to be happy...

[roundtheworldrambles]

Luang Prabang, Laos - Part 1

Day 161 – Chiang Mai, Thailand to Luang Prabang, Laos

In the afternoon, I packed up my bag and hailed a Red Songthaew to Chiang Mai’s airport, boarding a small, propeller plane that would take me to Luang Prabang, Laos. The flight was short, about an hour and a half east, over the mountainous green highlands. The air outside was thick and hazy, caused by smoke from burning farmer’s fields. I learned that between February-April, this was fairly common for northern Thailand and Laos, as farmers burn their fields before reseeding the soil.

Arriving at the small, red roofed airport in Luang Prabang, I quickly passed through customs, paying for my visa on arrival with US dollars. It was an interesting visa experience for me, as the visa application fee varied depending on the home country of the traveller – with Canadians paying the highest amount of any listed country. After doing some research after the fact, it appears that this is based on the reciprocal cost a Laotian would need to pay to visit Canada. Furthermore, the visa costs are also apparently related to the amount of international aid provided to Laos, where citizens of countries which have provided a higher level of aid pay lower visa costs as a result. I had not given much thought to the reciprocity of international visas before my arrival in Laos, and this was an eye-opening, educational experience for me.

As I was negotiating for a ride into town in the arrivals hall, I had the very good fortune of meeting a fellow traveller from San Francisco, Tonya, who was also travelling by herself. We quickly found out that we were also staying at the same guesthouse, and became immediate friends! Sharing a ride into town on a multi-coloured tuk-tuk, we also realized that we had a very similar itinerary planned around Asia for the coming few months! After settling into our hostel for the evening, we headed out into the town as the sun was setting.

Luang Prabang

The small city of Luang Prabang is built on a peninsula at the confluence of the Mekong and Nam Khan Rivers, surrounded by lush green mountains. Now a UNESCO World Heritage site, Luang Prabang was once the capital of the historic Lane Xang Kingdom from the 14th to 16th centuries (also known as the “Kingdom of a Million Elephants”). Luang Prabang was also a historic trade centre in Southeast Asia, given its proximity to the meandering Mekong Rivier, which runs for almost 5,000 km through China, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

Luang Prabang is also known for being the centre for Buddhism in Laos, and has many active temples, or “Vats” scattered throughout the town centre. The town was part of a French protectorate between 1893 and 1954, and the colonial influences of this era can still be seen in the architecture throughout the urban centre. Modern day Luang Prabang showcases traditional and French colonial styles throughout the town. Given the current UNESCO protections, the historic town centre was also remarkably free of the overdevelopment that can come with tourism. It was evident to me that the town had taken great care to protect their cultural heritage and architecture, with conservation and sustainability in mind.

Luang Prabang Night Market

As evening fell, Tonya and I wandered over a short distance to Sisavangvong Road, the main street through the peninsula, which was bustling with a vibrant night market.  The street had been closed off to vehicles and scooters, and there were hundreds of red and blue covered stalls and bamboo mats lining the street, selling countless beautiful and unique wares. There was an incredible collection of handicrafts, ceramics, silks, clothing, antiques and other souvenirs for sale. Many of the items sold were handmade by ethnic groups in the nearby hills, although some stalls also sold cheap, imported trinkets. Overall, the market had a relaxed atmosphere, with the vendors typically waiting for the visitor to inquire about the items rather than making sales pitches. One stall in particular caught my eye – where the trader was selling jewellery and cutlery which were apparently made by recycling fragments of bombs which had been dropped on Laos by the United States during the Vietnam War.

I had no previous knowledge of the bombing campaign in Laos during the war, and was stunned to learn that there were close to 600,000 bombing campaigns in Laos between 1964-1973, with the goal to cut off supply lines along the Ho Chi Minh Trail running into Vietnam. To this day, there are estimated to be almost 80 million unexploded bombs throughout the country, which continue to kill innocent men, women and children who happen to come upon them – near half a century later. It sickened me to think about all of the bombs lying dormant in fields and forests throughout this picturesque, welcoming country.

Tonya and I briefly stopped by a money exchange to switch out our US dollars to Laotian Kip. The local denominations were huge - with banknote amounts ranging between K500 to K100,000. For the remainder of my time in Laos, this made it quite challenging to monitor just how much money I had, as the many “zeros” on the banknotes automatically tricked my brain into thinking I had more money than I actually did!

One of the Many Fresh Smoothie Stands in the Market

We spent the remainder of the evening browsing the night market, sampling spicy Laotian dishes at the food stalls along the street, and enjoying passionfruit smoothies. It was a great first day in Laos, and I was lucky to have equally terrific company with Tonya!

Day 162 – Luang Prabang

After grabbing breakfast at our hostel and befriending a few other travellers, Tonya and I headed out to explore town, passing first through the morning farmer’s market just along the street outside. The vendors start setting up before sunrise, and it was already busy as we walked through around 8:30am. Local produce and the catch-of-the-day were set up for sale on mats on the ground. Ready-to-eat snacks were also for sale, such as charcoal-grilled honeycomb, baelfruit, mung-bean rice cakes, Mok Pa (a dish cooked with catfish caught in the Mekong), Lao Khao Soi, various meats cooked in banana leaf, Khao Jee Pate (a Laotian take on a Banh Mi Baguette sandwich) barbecued frog, water buffalo sausage, coconut milk pancakes, young coconuts, various noodle dishes, and even grilled rat – just to name a few snacks! We enjoyed stolling along the street, chatting with the friendly vendors, and taking in the vibrant colours, sights and smells of the market.

We continued onwards to the bank of the Mekong River, lined with palm and banana trees. Long, shallow river boats churned through the milky brown water below. Beyond the wide, lazy river, we could see lush green mountains in the distance. As we walked along the embankment, various tour operators approached us, trying to sell us tours in these slow riverboats. While we were certainly interested, Tonya and I had done our research on reputable tours, and planned to purchase our trip up the Mekong for the following day.

Drying Orange Robes in a Monastery in Luang Prabang

Turning inland, we began to meander along the quieter streets of town, lined with traditional Lao houses and guesthomes, many of which were constructed with bamboo materials during the colonial period. The UNESCO protections in the town continued to be evident, as there were no high-rise buildings or large tour buses anywhere in the town centre. Tuk-tuks and scooters were by far the most common means of transportation for locals and visitors. As we walked, we occasionally passed some active Buddhist monasteries, and while we could not enter, we could see the laundered orange robes of the monks hanging out to dry.  

Wat Xieng Thong

We visited one of the best-known monasteries in the town centre, Wat Xieng Thong. Dating back to the 16th century, the temple complex housed a gilded ordination hall, with large, sweeping roofs, along with numerous stupas, chapels, a library, a drum tower, and a funeral carriage - historically used to carry the urns of Lao royalty. The architecture throughout Wat Xieng Thong was simply stunning, with every structure richly decorated with engravings, colourful mosaics, paintings, gilding and elaborate sculptures.  

A close-up of mosaics at Wat Xieng Thong

Ready for some shade and bite to eat, Tonya and I headed to the banks of the Nam Khan River, crossing a bamboo footbridge to the far bank. The bamboo bridges of Luang Prabang are built by local families on an annual basis, facilitating the journey to and from the old quarter of the city. Incredibly, though these bridges are solely built from bamboo and rope, they are very sturdy! As visitors to Luang Prabang, Tonya and I paid a small toll to cross the bridge, which contributes to the upkeep and annual bridge replacement.

Bamboo Bridge across the Nam Khan River

On the far banks of the river, we arrived at Dyen Sabai  – a restaurant recommended by a friend of mine from Western, Brandon - who had briefly lived abroad in Laos, and had generously given me all sorts of local recommendations! He had highly recommended that I visit Dyen Sabai for their Lao Buffalo Fondue. The setting was peaceful – Tonya and I sat on low futons at a riverside table, surrounded by a beautiful bamboo garden. The buffalo fondue dish turned out to be cooked in a similar way to Chinese hot pot/Korean BBQ. The servers prepared a small charcoal fire in a metal container built into the table, before placing a specialized cover overtop. This set-up allowed Tonya and I to cook the meat ourselves on the grill and cook the vegetables in the broth. It was a delicious (and interactive!) meal, a recommendation well worth it.

Buffalo Fondue at Dyen Sabai

After lunch, we traversed back over the bridge, and walked along the banks of the Nam Khan river to Utopia, a outdoor bar and bucket-list destination for any backpacker to the area (I think I had about 10 different friends recommend I go!). Tonya and I spent several hours of the late afternoon enjoying several Beer Lao while sitting on the floor cushions, chatting with other travellers and taking in the incredible ambiance of this lively riverside bar.

Nam Khan River

As evening began to fall, we returned to the town centre to climb Mount Phousi for sunset. A small mountain located in the heart of the historic town centre, Phou-si literally translates to “sacred hill”, and stands approximately 100m tall. While it was a bit of a climb to the top, I was happy for the exercise! Along the trail as we ascended were many gilded statues of Buddha, with a small temple and golden stupa at the summit. Arriving just on time for sunset, we took in an incredible 360-degree view of Luang Prabang, the Mekong River shimmering in a deep shade of orange, reflecting the mesmerizing sky above. The distant mountains were blanketed in a smoky haze from the burning of brush and farmers fields.  While the hill was packed with tourists who had the same idea as us – it was still a wonderful way to end a day of exploring the city. Ready to tuck into some more of Laos’ famous street food, Tonya and I returned to the night market along Sisavangvong Road, taking in the brightly lit red and blue booths framed by tall palm trees and the opulent Royal Palace. After sharing and sampling countless delicious dishes, we headed back to our hostel, stopping at a booth on the main road to purchase tickets for our boat trip up the Mekong River the following day. I crashed almost immediately, as I was planning to wake up before dawn to view the morning Almsgiving ceremony, a daily tradition of local Buddhist monks.

Sunset from Mount Phousi

[somar78]

BMW Z8 Roadster - 2001 by Perico001 E52 Bonhams : The Autumn Sale 2020 Estimated : € 140.000 - 180.000 Sold for € 138.000 Autoworld www.autoworld.be Brussels - Belgium September 2020 In recent times many motor manufacturers, particularly those with a significant sporting heritage, have felt the need to reference iconic models from the past when launching their latest. BMW has proved adept at exploiting this 'retro' trend, commencing in 1996 with the Z3 coupé and convertible, the styling of which brilliantly recalled its fabulous '328' sports car of pre-war days. Its next effort along similar lines - the 'Z07' concept car of 1997 - took its inspiration from the post-war Alfred Goetz-designed '507', a luxurious limited-edition roadster. The sensation of the 1997 Tokyo Auto Show, the Z07 was received so enthusiastically that BMW took the decision to press ahead with a production version: the Z8. For the most part the Z8 remained remarkably faithful to the original concept, retaining the 507-like twin-nostril front grille and distinctive front-wing vents. A period-style interior had been one of the Z07's most remarked upon features, and that too made it into the Z8. The Z8's body panelling and spaceframe chassis were fabricated in lightweight and corrosion resistant aluminium, while the 32-valve 4,941cc V8 engine, shared with the M5 saloon, was built by BMW's Motorsport division. With 400bhp on tap, the Z8 raced to 100km/h (62mph) in 4.7 seconds and only the built-in rev limiter stopped it from exceeding 250km/h (155mph). Power reached the run-flat tyres via a Getrag six-speed manual gearbox. Needless to say, the Z8 also came with all the modern appurtenances one would expect of a flagship model: traction control, stability control, front and side air bags, GPS navigation, climate control, and power operation of the seats, steering wheel, and convertible hood all being included in the package. The fact that the Z8 was a low-volume model assembled, for the most part, by hand, enabled BMW to offer customers considerable freedom in personalising their cars. Further enhancing its appeal to collectors, the factory announced that a 50-year stockpile of Z8 parts would be maintained. Despite a (US) launch price of over $128,000, initial demand was so high that a bidding war broke out, with many Z8s selling for well in excess of that figure. By the time production ceased at the end of 2002, 5,703 of these fabulous cars had been built. This particular BMW Z8 was delivered new to Mr Jason Claxton in Grand River, Ontario in January 2001, passing to its next owner - Lorenzo Giordano, a prominent member of the Montreal Mafia - in 2003, by which time it had covered fewer than 20,000 kilometres. In May 2007 Giordano was arrested and spent the next eight years in prison; released in December 2015, he was shot dead in March 2016. The car was put on the market a few weeks later with 24,693 kilometres recorded, and early in 2017 was imported into Luxembourg. A major service was carried out by Garage Ginion in Waterloo when the car arrived in Belgium in March 2017 (at 25,148 kilometres), which included converting the radio to European specification (detailed bills available). The most recent service was undertaken by Garage Bilia-Edmond in Luxembourg in 2019. Since the car's arrival in Luxembourg in 2017, a total of €7,200 has been spent on various works including replacing both front lights, the right taillight, and the left door trim cup holder (October 2017); replacing all the cylinder head coolant hoses (May 2019); and fitting a new battery (June 2020). Invoices for all these works and parts are on file together with those relating to the car's importation into Europe in February 2017. Finished in grey with black leather interior, the latter smelling like new, this beautiful Z8 Roadster is presented in pristine condition, with a spotless engine bay, and is still on its original tyres. The car comes complete with windbreak and cover; canopy cover; original radio; coffee table book; two keys; Motorola/Startac BMW mobile telephone (Canadian specification); tool kit; Carte Grise; and Contrôle Technique. https://flic.kr/p/2jGw4Qj