#Stockton Street

[la1nsecta]

Hometown love

[fieriframes]

[You are crazy because that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm here in Stockton, California, and palestrina for example too. and that's a food truck serving up Laotian street food. This is Green Papaya. But there's a line?]

[internationalemeteorologie]

D*Face

Caught between the devil and the deep blue, U.S. Virgin Islands

Another bad hair day, Greece

Blue for you, Los Angeles

Run away, Spain 

[mariacallous]

The Ocean Sciences Building at the University of Washington in Seattle is a brightly modern, four-story structure, with large glass windows reflecting the bay across the street.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2016, it was being slowly locked down.

Red lights began flashing at the entrances as students and faculty filed out under overcast skies. Eventually, just a handful of people remained inside, preparing to unleash one of the most destructive forces in the natural world: the crushing weight of about 2½ miles of ocean water.

In the building’s high-pressure testing facility, a black, pill-shaped capsule hung from a hoist on the ceiling. About 3 feet long, it was a scale model of a submersible called Cyclops 2, developed by a local startup called OceanGate. The company’s CEO, Stockton Rush, had cofounded the company in 2009 as a sort of submarine charter service, anticipating a growing need for commercial and research trips to the ocean floor. At first, Rush acquired older, steel-hulled subs for expeditions, but in 2013 OceanGate had begun designing what the company called “a revolutionary new manned submersible.” Among the sub’s innovations were its lightweight hull, which was built from carbon fiber and could accommodate more passengers than the spherical cabins traditionally used in deep-sea diving. By 2016, Rush’s dream was to take paying customers down to the most famous shipwreck of them all: the Titanic, 3,800 meters below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean.

Engineers carefully lowered the Cyclops 2 model into the testing tank nose-first, like a bomb being loaded into a silo, and then screwed on the tank’s 3,600-pound lid. Then they began pumping in water, increasing the pressure to mimic a submersible’s dive. If you’re hanging out at sea level, the weight of the atmosphere above you exerts 14.7 pounds per square inch (psi). The deeper you go, the stronger that pressure; at the Titanic’s depth, the pressure is about 6,500 psi. Soon, the pressure gauge on UW’s test tank read 1,000 psi, and it kept ticking up—2,000 psi, 5,000 psi. At about the 73-minute mark, as the pressure in the tank reached 6,500 psi, there was a sudden roar and the tank shuddered violently.

“I felt it in my body,” an OceanGate employee wrote in an email later that night. “The building rocked, and my ears rang for a long time.”

“Scared the shit out of everyone,” he added.

The model had imploded thousands of meters short of the safety margin OceanGate had designed for.

In the high-stakes, high-cost world of crewed submersibles, most engineering teams would have gone back to the drawing board, or at least ordered more models to test. Rush’s company didn’t do either of those things. Instead, within months, OceanGate began building a full-scale Cyclops 2 based on the imploded model. This submersible design, later renamed Titan, eventually made it down to the Titanic in 2021. It even returned to the site for expeditions the next two years. But nearly one year ago, on June 18, 2023, Titan dove to the infamous wreck and imploded, instantly killing all five people onboard, including Rush himself.

The disaster captivated and horrified the world. Deep-sea experts criticized OceanGate’s choices, from Titan’s carbon-fiber construction to Rush’s public disdain for industry regulations, which he believed stifled innovation. Organizations that had worked with OceanGate, including the University of Washington as well as the Boeing Company, released statements denying that they contributed to Titan.

A trove of tens of thousands of internal OceanGate emails, documents, and photographs provided exclusively to WIRED by anonymous sources sheds new light on Titan’s development, from its initial design and manufacture through its first deep-sea operations. The documents, validated by interviews with two third-party suppliers and several former OceanGate employees with intimate knowledge of Titan, reveal never-before-reported details about the design and testing of the submersible. They show that Boeing and the University of Washington were both involved in the early stages of OceanGate’s carbon-fiber sub project, although their work did not make it into the final Titan design. The trove also reveals a company culture in which employees who questioned their bosses’ high-speed approach and decisions were dismissed as overly cautious or even fired. (The former employees who spoke to WIRED have asked not to be named for fear of being sued by the families of those who died aboard the vessel.) Most of all, the documents show how Rush, blinkered by his own ambition to be the Elon Musk of the deep seas, repeatedly overstated OceanGate’s progress and, on at least one occasion, outright lied about significant problems with Titan’s hull, which has not been previously reported.

A representative for OceanGate, which ceased all operations last summer, declined to comment on WIRED’s findings.

[newsbites]

News from NL, Canada, 20 June.

The CEO and founder of OceanGate Expeditions, Stockton Rush, is believed to have been aboard the company's Titan submarine that disappeared en route to the wreck of the Titanic.

Rush was a pilot and aeronautical engineer who built his own experimental aircraft and submarine, and founded OceanGate Expeditions in 2009.

Rush was interviewed about his Titan sub in November 2019, where he emphasized its homemade aspects and explained that the safety of his missions is a concern during the journey to the dive site.

2. The CEO of St. John’s International Airport believes an income guarantee would help attract more airlines to the region.

Airlines are looking for incentives, including guaranteed revenue, due to changes in the sector globally.

Stakeholders in Newfoundland and Labrador need to discuss incentive programs with the government to level the playing field with competing jurisdictions.

3. Emergency crews responded to a single-vehicle crash on the Outer Ring Road.

4. St. John's City Council has approved an 8-foot high locked fence around the stage on George Street to prevent vandalism and homeless individuals using it as sleeping quarters.

The development was passed despite opposition from some councillors who believe it does nothing to address the root causes of homelessness.

Supporters of the motion believe there are sufficient supports for those displaced, and the fence is a matter of safety for both visitors and those sleeping on the stage.

5. A 19-year-old man has been charged for his alleged involvement in a hit-and-run accident in Bay Roberts that left the driver of a dirt bike critically injured.

The driver of the car fled the scene but later turned himself in to the police.

The accused has been charged with multiple offenses, including failure to stop after an accident causing bodily harm and operating a vehicle without insurance.

6. A woman was arrested for assaulting another woman and damaging property in Corner Brook. The victim sought refuge in a vehicle, which the accused then attempted to damage.

[tswiftupdatess]

New mural of Taylor Swift spotted in Shoreditch ahead of Taylor Swift's upcoming shows in London!

The artist, Kate Claxton, 22, from Stockton-on-Tees, UK, was selected as part of a fan competition run by Visit London and brought to life by Global Street Art, the team behind the London Mural Festival!

(August 14, 2024)

[unteriors]

N Young Street, Fort Stockton, Texas.

[bellaxgiornata]

Bella's Masterlist of Jax Teller Fics

Jax Teller x fem!Reader Series

You Are My Sunshine [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.

Jax Teller x fem!Reader One Shots

Five Minutes

Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, nervous!Reader, suggestive comments, & a slightly soft, flirty Jax

While out with your friends at a seedy bar in Charming, you manage to catch Jax's eye–and he's quite determined just to get you to talk to him.

Hold on a Little Tighter

Warnings/tags: 18+; Light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, post-shower naked Jax cuddling (that always needs a warning)

Ever since Opie passed, Jax has been lost. When he returns home late at night, you're the one he needs to help hold him together.

How Much Did You Miss Me?

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, f!masturbation, cocky Jax and his filthy mouth, somewhat rough sex (kinda, not really), porn with minimal plot, unprotected sex

While Jax is on a protection run, you're desperate to ease some tension so you can fall asleep. But when he unexpectedly returns early, he's determined to prove he's better than your toy.

Something Changed {Coming Soon}

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, soft!Jax (more tags possibly to come)

Jax had become a close friend of yours over the past few years, and in that time it had become an accepted and unspoken fact that when you both drank together, you'd wind up in bed together. So waking up next to each other some mornings wasn't abnormal–but having sober sex the morning after definitely was.

[bodhrancomedy]

What if I wrote an early Victorian era supernatural horror mystery where the occupants of one street have to figure out which one of them is killing the others with no police and no aristocracy and set it in a city other than London?

[nickdewolfarchive]

san francisco, california october 1976

stockton street tunnel

photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/50776926717

[peppymintdreams]

A Catty Man

Elias x Barista

Warden allowed for one trip to the store one trip with no cameras worries or locks around the windows

The day had finally come when Barista and Elias were allowed a rare outing from the safe house. After days spent holed up in a small, tech-filled hideaway, stepping outside felt like a taste of freedom. The sun was out, and the air felt fresh, even in the busy streets of Stockton.

The store was far, and Elias insisted on driving. Barista agreed. It felt almost normal—an ordinary errand, like they weren’t tangled up in the mess of gang politics and danger.

They entered the store, wandering through aisles. Elias seemed more relaxed than usual, half-smiling as he eyed random items, tossing a few snacks into the basket. Barista followed, idly looking at the shelves, enjoying the mundanity of it all.

But on the way back, things took a turn.

A group of guys, leaning against a car in the parking lot, had their eyes on Barista from the moment they left the store. One of them, tall and cocky, stepped forward.

“Hey, sweetheart! Lookin’ good,” the guy called, his voice oozing arrogance as his buddies snickered behind him.

Barista tensed, instinctively pulling closer to Elias. They could feel the heat rising to their cheeks, a mix of anger and discomfort knotting in their stomach. Thoughts of the way their boss spoke to them…the Things… he did to them. It all felt like it was coming back to haunt them, Elias hadn’t noticed at first, his mind still half on what they’d grabbed from the store. But then, as the guy’s words cut through the noise, Elias stopped.

His expression darkened in an instant.

The playful, carefree air around him vanished. He glanced at Barista, seeing the discomfort in their eyes, and then turned slowly to face the guy who had spoken.

“You say something?” Elias’s voice was cold, his usual easygoing tone replaced with something sharper.

The guy, not realizing who he was messing with, smirked. “Just paying a compliment. No harm in that, right?”

Elias’ jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “You think that’s a compliment? How about you keep walking before I pay you back with something you won’t like?”

The tension between them was palpable now. Barista felt their heart race, not because they feared the situation—they knew Elias wouldn’t let it escalate unless it needed to—but because they could see the anger flickering in his eyes.

“Relax, man,” one of the guy’s friends said, stepping in as if to diffuse the situation, though it was clear none of them had any real intention of backing down. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” Elias took a step forward, forcing the guy to meet his eyes. “Then why don’t you ‘friend’ yourself out of here before you regret it.”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden aggression in Elias’s voice. The group exchanged glances, uncertain now. It was one thing to catcall someone, but it was another to deal with a guy who looked like he was ready to throw down at a moment’s notice.

“We’re leaving,” one of them muttered, pulling the ringleader back. “Let’s go.”

Elias didn’t move, his eyes locked on the guy until the group turned and left, the air around them heavy with tension. Only when they were out of sight did he turn back to Barista.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, the sharpness melting away as quickly as it had come.

Barista exhaled slowly, the knot in their chest loosening as they nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Elias’ shoulders relaxed, and he managed a small smile. “I don’t know what’s worse, being stuck in that safe house or having to deal with idiots like that.”

Barista laughed, the sound helping to ease the lingering unease. “I’ll take the safe house over catcalls, any day.”

Elias threw an arm over their shoulders, pulling them close as they started walking again. “Don’t worry. Next time we’re out, I’ll make sure no one even looks your way.”

“Because you’ll threaten everyone?”

“Nah,” Elias grinned. “I’ll just wear something so distracting, they won’t be able to take their eyes off me.”

Barista chuckled, the weight of the encounter lifting a little as Elias’ usual playful side returned. “You in a neon jumpsuit? I’d pay to see that.”

“I might have to now, just for the look on your face,” Elias said, squeezing them gently.

As they walked back to the safe house, Barista felt a mix of relief and gratitude. Even though the world outside could be unpredictable and uncomfortable, having Elias by their side made it all a little more bearable.

[remembertheplunge]

Beginning of an answer

9/7/2020. Monday 2:08pm 

out front. Espresso’s Coffee House: Pacific Ave, Stockton, Ca

“There were plenty of onlookers, but no witnesses.” In other words, we may log impressive miles in our travels but see nothing: we may follow all the advice in the travel magazines and still feel little enthusiasm.” Page xxi The Art of Pilgrimage

Our pilgrimage has taken us into a Land which Angela Davis said is one that she never experienced before—the confluence of pandemic and protest.

I agree with Angela—its a phenomenon—We have all awakened here on Bali-Hi.

But, as Ms Davis also said, it will pass—the mystical island will recede back into the fog of “normalcy”

Like the travelers described in the Art Of Pilgrimage (above) we have to see it—to embrace it while it is here. I feel fortunate to have lived to see this beginning of an answer—

Angela also said this is not the time to dismantle the police, but, instead, to evolve that institution.

Mavis Staples sings “Gotta change around here, say it loud, say it clear” as I write.

End of entry

Notes: 1/15/2025

Please see photos of the original 9/7/2020 entry in the next blog

Bali-Hi was a mystical island of magic in the musical “South Pacific"

The above journal entry was written in September of 2020 during the Covid Pandemic and the era of the massive George Floyd—Black Lives Matter protests. Angela Davis, a well known civil rights activist during the 1960’s, was acknowledging the power of the people’s movement then. Although she was right that it would pass and the streets would become quite, the Christian Nationalist response is now raging in the form of Trump 2.0

Kat Brooks, who hosts a show on KPFA radio, said yesterday on KPFA Hard Knock that “We are never going to get free in the halls of power. It’s in the streets…"

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"THE FULL SKIRT GIVES THE DRESS A FLOATY AND PLAYFUL NATURE, WHILE THE DROPPED WAIST..."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on classic film actress Audrey Hepburn in the Givenchy wedding dress that her character Jo Stockton wore in the 1957 romantic comedy/musical "Funny Face." The dress is a white ballerina-length wedding gown featuring a full skirt, a dropped waist, and a tight bodice.

"Who better to take fashion inspiration from than the icon herself, Audrey Hepburn? She looks playful, yet elegant and refined in this Givenchy ballerina length dress.

Although Jo Stockton (Audrey Hepburn) was a heartbroken model when she first put on the Givenchy short tulle wedding dress in "Funny Face" (1957), her happy ending came in style as she wore the dress while dancing with Fred Astaire.

The full skirt gives the dress a floaty and playful nature, while the dropped waist really shows off a petit waist. The bodice is topped off with a Sabrina neckline, also known as a boat or bateau neckline. Givenchy often chose this neckline for Hepburn specifically as it showed off her prominent collar bones."

-- OCCASIONAL ON WEST STREET, "Going to the Movies for Wedding Inspiration: 12 Iconic Wedding Dresses from the Silver Screen"

Sources: www.occasionsbridal.co.uk/going-to-the-movies-for-wedding-inspiration, X, & Business Insider.

[mariacallous]

Every so often along 99 between Bakersfield and Sacramento there is a town: Delano, Tulare, Fresno, Madera, Merced, Modesto, Stockton. Some of these towns are pretty big now, but they are all the same at heart, one- and two- and three-storey buildings artlessly arranged, so that what appears to be the good dress shop stands between a W. T. Grant store, so that the big Bank of America faces a Mexican movie house. Dos Peliculas, Bingo Bingo Bingo. Beyond the downtown (pronounced downtown with the Okie accent that now pervades Valley speech patterns) lie blocks of old frame houses – paint peeling, sidewalks cracking, their occasional leaded amber windows overlooking a Foster’s Freeze or a five-minute car wash or a State Farm Insurance office; beyond those spread the shopping centers and the mills of tract houses, pastel with redwood siding, the unmistakable signs of cheap building already blossoming on those houses which have survived the first rain. To a stranger driving 99 in an air-conditioned car (he would be on business, I suppose, any stranger driving 99, for 99 would never get a tourist to Big Sur or San Simeon, never get him to the California he came to see), these towns must seem so flat, so impoverished, as to drain the imagination. They hint at evenings spent hanging around gas stations, and suicide pacts sealed in drive-ins. But remember:

Q. In what way does the Holy Land resemble the Sacramento Valley? A. In the type and diversity of its agricultural products.

U.S. 99 in fact passes through the richest and most intensely cultivated agricultural region in the world, a giant outdoor hothouse with a billion-dollar crop. It is when you remember the Valley’s wealth that the monochromatic flatness of its towns takes on a curious meaning, suggests a habit of mind some would consider perverse. There is something in the Valley mind that reflects a real indifference to the stranger in his air-conditioned car, a failure to perceive even his presence, let alone his thoughts or wants. An implacable insularity is the seal of these towns. I once met a woman in Dallas, a most charming and attractive woman accustomed to the hospitality and social hypersensitivity of Texas, who told me that during the four war years her husband had been stationed in Modesto, she had never once been invited inside anyone’s house. No one in Sacramento would find this story remarkable (“She probably had no relatives there,” said someone to whom I told it), for the Valley towns understand one another, share a peculiar spirit. They think alike and they look alike. I can tell Modesto from Merced, but I have visited there, gone to dances there; besides there is over the main street of Modesto an arched sign which reads:

WATER – WEALTH CONTENTMENT – HEALTH

There is no such sign in Merced.

Notes From A Native Daughter – Joan Didion

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi. This is an ask for Nestor Oceteva ❤️ The prompt is: 12. You know that I won’t let you fall. Thank you so much.

References to Nestor's art in Spray Paint  and to events in the upcoming Stockton!Series

Nestor becomes despondent after his paintings are destroyed. You’re hoping it’s a temporary thing, that he’s still processing the attack on your home but the door to the studio remains closed for weeks.

The place he loved has become a source of anguish for him now. Joining the MC instilled a sense of belonging, brothers stretched out across the country, supporting one another. Now when he looks at the ruined artwork all he sees is the betrayal. It doesn’t matter that it was another charter, the people who preached about loyalty and brotherhood had invaded his home, fired bullets into the bed where he’d been sleeping moments before.  

It’s hurts to see him like this, so quiet, so distant. Without painting he lives his life mechanically, going to work at the scrapyard, before he comes home and goes to bed. There are too many changes going on in his life right now and he’s waiting for the next threat because there’s going to be fall out from the way the MC’s shifting right now. Yuma may have fallen into line with Manny at the helm but there’s others that aren’t so forward thinking. Both Marcus and Bishop expect there to be some splinting. With no outlet the only way for Nestor to survive is to shut down and that’s what he’s doing.

He's resistant when you bring him to the empty shop alongside Nina’s tattoo parlour. The space has been vacant for a while, ever since the Galindo Agra Park collapse. The high street is just starting to rejuvenate, the influx of tourism from the Springtime Festival has boosted the economy and they’re starting to see small businesses pop up throughout the area.

“Mi Corazón.” He says wearily as he finds himself standing inside an empty, dusty shop with a paste table sitting in the middle. “What are we doing here?”

“You can’t paint at home. It’s not a safe space for you anymore.” You say softly before gesturing towards the doorway at the very back of the shop. “You need a change of scenery so I’ve set up an area for you upstairs, somewhere private where you can go and do whatever you want, when you want.”

Nestor doesn’t speak, instead he swallows hard against the ache of emotion in his chest as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks towards the boarded-up windows.

“The things that you’re feeling right now, the trauma of what happened, you need to work through that and the way you do that is through painting. I know things are hard for you right now, that you’re struggling but this is how you move past it.”

“What about the rest of it?” He asks you, gesturing at the space. “What are we supposed to do with the downstairs?”

You remove the lime green project book from your bag. The one that Nestor has been working from since he and David were kids. You’d found it when you were trying to put the remnants of your house back together, jammed between some of books that had been torn off the shelves. You remembered him showing it to you when you’d first moved in together.

A nonprofit art gallery, something that showcased the creativity in the community, that delivered programs to help kids channel their trauma, to create and build something from it.

You hadn’t realised how much work he’d put into over the past six months, how he’s refined the concept, included business projections, financial forecasts, marketing ideas. This is Nestor’s legacy you hold in your hands and the good it could do…

Right now, he can’t see past the turmoil he’s feeling, it’s too big, it needs to be taken a step at a time. However, this project book is an avenue to the future, a way to remind him that there’s life beyond that, that he’s more than just the man he is in this moment.

“When you’re feeling better, we should talk about this.” You say setting the project book on the rickety paste table. “About how we’re going to make it a reality.”

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