#commercial painting Miami

[floridapainting]

What top 5 things make Commercial Painting Miami unique

Commercial Painting Miami offers several unique features that set it apart from other painting services. Here are the top five things that make Commercial Painting Miami unique. Commercial Painting Miami specializes in providing painting services specifically tailored to commercial properties. They have extensive experience working on a wide range of commercial projects, including office buildings, retail spaces, hotels, and restaurants. More details visit here:-https://floridapaintingmiami.com/

[homeremodelingservice]

How to Find Home Remodeling Services in Miami FL?

With some research, you can find home remodeling services in Miami FL, that can help you transform your home into the perfect space for you and your family provided by Dorris Construction management company.  Competition among home remodeling companies in Miami is high, resulting in lower prices for homeowners. With so many companies to choose from, homeowners can save a lot of money on their home improvement projects.

Can Home Remodeling Services in Miami FL Help Us?

Once you have found a few companies you are interested in, meeting with them in person is essential to get a feel for their work. You should see some of their previous work or ask for references. When looking for home remodeling services in Miami FL, finding a company with a good reputation is vital. It is also essential to ensure you are comfortable with your chosen company. The people who work for the home remodeling company you choose should be friendly and personable. 

There are many different styles of toilets, so you should browse other options. If you will add value to your home, consider remodeling your outdoor living space. Outdoor living space remodeling is a great way to add value to your home. There are a variety of different ways that you can remodel your outdoor living space. If you are considering remodeling your outdoor living space, contact a contractor for more information.

Are Bathroom Remodeling Services in Fort Lauderdale FL Suitable for Us?

Your Fort Lauderdale bathroom remodeling contractor should provide you with a written contract outlining all of the project's details, including a schedule of when the work will be completed and a breakdown of the costs. This gives you peace of mind that you're getting what you expect and helps avoid any misunderstandings. Be sure to read the contract carefully before signing it, and feel free to ask for clarification on any points you need help understanding.

 It's also a good idea to have a lawyer look it over to ensure it's fair and protects your interests. Once everything is in order, sign the contract and enjoy your newly remodeled bathroom! Remodeling your bathroom can be a great way to add value to your home, but it can also be costly. If you want to save money on your Fort Lauderdale, FL, bathroom remodeling project, you can do a few things to keep costs down. Even if you're not an experienced handyman, there are still some tasks you can take on to save money.

General Contractors Miami

Some popular home remodeling services include kitchen and bathroom remodeling, additions and expansions, and exterior renovations. Kitchen and bathroom remodeling are two of the most valuable home improvement projects you can undertake. Investing in new fixtures, appliances, and countertops can significantly increase your home's value. These home remodeling services in Miami FL are working to see what people need and act accordingly. Additions and expansions are another great way to improve your home's value. By updating your home's siding, windows, and doors, you can give it a fresh, new look. 

No matter what home remodeling services you're interested in, finding a reputable contractor to work with is essential. Once you've selected a contractor, be sure to get a written contract outlining the scope of work to be performed and the estimated cost. Kitchen remodeling is a great way to add value to your home. If you are considering remodeling your kitchen, there are a few things that you should keep in mind.

Miami Contractors

As any homeowner knows, remodeling projects can be highly stressful. With some planning and research, you can find the home remodeling services in Miami FL, that are right for you. Not only do you have to deal with the mess and disruption of construction, but you also have to worry about ensuring the work is done correctly. A good home remodeling company will have a team of experienced professionals who are well-versed in construction. This is because you can be confident that the work will be done correctly, and you won't have to deal with the stress and hassle of the construction yourself.

In addition, a professional home remodeling company will be able to provide you with a warranty on their work, which will give you peace of mind in knowing that your investment is protected. As you can see, you can take advantage of many different home remodeling services in Miami FL. No matter your budget or home type, there is a service out there that can help you achieve the look you want. Whether you want to update your kitchen, bathroom, or any other room in your home, these services can help you get the job done right.

[liaromancewriter]

Stand By Me

Premise: Cassie experiences the downside of having Ethan Ramsey as a mentor.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Format: Prose + Text and Pic Fic Words: 2,610

A/N: Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24 prompt, two-word sentence starter: "you're wrong"

Part 1: The Calm

Cassie Valentine had never traveled quite like this. The cargo plane’s interior was cavernous and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the tightly packed but bright commercial jet that had flown her and Ethan Ramsey from Boston to Miami for the first leg of their trek to assist humanitarian efforts after an earthquake in Haiti.

Cassie thought idly that the jet had been more comfortable with its plush seating. She sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor, a duffle bag shoved behind her, cushioning her lower back from the unyielding steel, and scanned her surroundings.

The sparse interior was devoid of the usual comforts of commercial flights. There were no overhead bins, seatback trays or in-flight entertainment to pass the time. Just an expansive, unadorned metal hull echoing with the sound of the engines, a constant, deafening roar that made any attempt at conversation futile.

“Hope you’re strapped in tight, folks,” Hank, the team leader, shouted above the noise.

Standing in the center of the plane, his legs spread for balance, he stretched his long arms to grip one of the loops hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but at least there’s no middle seat to fight over,” Hank continued matter-of-factly as the plane gained speed on the runway, its sides rattling in response. A few people chuckled.

He finished his safety instructions a minute or two before the wheels lifted off the tarmac, and quickly strapped himself into a jump seat on the far side. He caught her watching him, and winked flirtatiously.

Back on the ground, Ethan had greeted Hank with an easy familiarity borne out of their shared experience during the Amazon mission years earlier. The casual insults had rolled off their tongues as they needled each other jokingly.

Cassie suspected this trip would be eye-opening in more ways than one as she spied on Ethan’s relaxed profile out of the corner of her eye. As if sensing her scrutiny, he glanced askance at her and she gave him a thumbs up signal.

She huddled inside the leather jacket, shivering from the chill that permeated the aircraft as it began its ascent. Leaning her head on Ethan’s shoulder, she smiled ruefully at Libby, the petite red-haired fifth-year surgical resident strapped in across from her.

They’d gotten to chatting in the hangar as they waited for the plane to be loaded with boxes filled with medical and food supplies and humanitarian aid packages. Libby, on her third trip to a disaster zone, had been a fount of information on what to expect and advice on how to manage in crude living conditions.

Cassie felt a sense of adventure mingled with apprehension. The headlines coming out of Port-au-Prince had painted a bleak picture of destruction, death and despair.

When Ethan’s contact in the WHO reached out asking for medical volunteers, Cassie knew she wasn’t going to be left behind this time. She might not have experience in field hospitals, but it was time she got it.

Ethan hadn’t argued or tried to talk her out of it. They were doctors; this is what they did.

As the plane reached cruising altitude, Cassie peered out of a small window near the floor. The view was obscured by a thick mesh covering the outside, but it did little to diminish the sense of wonder at the vast blue sea below, the calm surface broken only by the white crests of waves.

The flight was long, longer still, with nothing to do to pass the time. Cassie found herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the monotony of the engine’s roar and the comforting feel of Ethan’s arm around her.

The next thing she knew, he was nudging her awake. The plane’s vibration beneath her had changed, gradually descending as they approached their destination. The atmosphere inside was abuzz with anticipation. Shortly after, the plane touched down on the tarmac, the landing rougher than the take-off.

“Ready?” Ethan asked as they unstrapped themselves once the plane had come to a halt.

Cassie nodded, stretching her arms and legs to shake off the stiffness. “Next time, remind me to grab a sleeping bag and some snacks.”

He chuckled, but his smile was soft as he stared into her green eyes. He ran his index finger down the side of her face, tucked back a lock of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail, and tilted her face up.

The kiss was a mere brush of the lips, whisper soft, barely there before it was gone. It was the last moment of normality. Once they disembarked, everything would change.

Part 2: The Storm

The oppressive heat and humidity were unlike anything Cassie had experienced before, although she’d certainly been to the tropics. Her brother’s island home on St. Thomas was a few hundred miles east, but its luxurious, air-conditioned environs were worlds apart from the rows of beige-colored tents spread out in every direction.

The back of her short-sleeved cotton scrub top was damp from perspiration, so she lifted the hem to air it out. Exiting the stuffy interior of a medical tent housing non-urgent cases, Cassie took a deep breath. The pungent smells of human waste and unwashed bodies hit her nostrils immediately, and she started gagging.

Sweat dripped down her face, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. In the last few days, she’d lost her weight in fluids as they dug latrines, carried supplies from one end of the field hospital to another and spent hours in airless spaces treating patients whose eyes were inconsolable with loss.

It had taken her more than a minute to get her bearings, but Ethan had been in his element. She knew he’d volunteered with Partners in Health when he was a resident and fellow. But she’d had a hard time picturing the sophisticated, opera-loving Dr. Ramsey in such crude surroundings, digging ditches, boots covered in mud, grime staining his clothes.

They had both been busy in their respective areas, retreating every night, bone tired, muscles aching, to their assigned bedroom in staff housing near the hospital. All they did was sleep before waking up early to do it all over again.

Suddenly missing him and desperate to feel his arms around her, Cassie marched down the dirt path between tents, her green eyes searching for him or someone familiar who could tell her if they’d seen him.

Her ears pricked when she heard his deep voice and distinctive laugh close by. Changing directions, she followed her instincts and turned left, slowing down when she saw him standing in the middle of a clearing, his back to her.

Ethan was with an older man she hadn’t met before. His gray hair was long from the back, brushing past his collar, with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose. He spoke English with a heavy accent, gesticulating with his hands for emphasis.

The other man caught her spying on them, and his voice boomed, chiding. “Ah, another acolyte for my young friend. It’s always the same story, eh, Ramsey?”

Cassie flushed when she realized he was referring to her.

Surprised, Ethan spun on his heels and relaxed when he spotted her. “Cassie.”

Her earlier euphoria faded, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach as she joined them.

“You know each other?” The other man asked, glancing between her and Ethan.

“Klaus, meet Dr. Valentine.” Ethan made the introductions. “Cassie, this is Dr. van Rijn, special missions head at the WHO. We go way back.”

“Valentine, Valentine. Why do I know that name?” Dr. van Rijn tapped one finger against his lips before his eyes cleared in recognition. “Ah, yes, of course.”

Cassie felt a momentary high at being recognized by someone of his stature, but his next words had her deflating like a balloon popped with a pin.

“You’re the intern!”

“That was six years ago,” Ethan shook his head in amusement. “She’s hardly an intern anymore, Klaus. Dr. Valentine is—”

“Your mentee, or rather, your protege,” he interrupted. “Yes, yes, Ethan, I remember. My hair is more gray than when we last saw each other, but my memory is sharper than ever.”

“But your hearing could use some work,” Ethan retorted, shoving his hands in his pant pockets. “As I was saying….”

Cassie saw herself standing in a long tunnel, the dismissive words spoken by the other man echoing around her. Intern. Mentee. Ramsey’s protege. Reduced to nothing more than that.

“Cassie, are you alright?”

Ethan’s concerned voice broke through her reverie, and she looked up, startled. They were both staring at her, one in disquiet and the other with curiosity.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Cassie said. “What were you talking about?”

“Ethan was just telling me you’re now leading his former team,” van Rijn said. “That’s quite an accomplishment for one so young. You made a smart decision when you chose to train under Dr. Ramsey. He’s one of the best and most astute physicians I’ve ever met. You’ll go far if you keep following in your mentor’s footsteps.”

Incensed at the implication that her success was not of her own making, Cassie opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort or at least defend her record. But Ethan stepped in front of her, figuratively, and beat her to it.

“That’s unfair, Klaus,” Ethan said sternly. “Dr. Valentine is brilliant. She diagnosed and found a cure for Naveen when he and I had both given up. She’s the keynote speaker at this year’s AADM conference, just like I was all those years ago, and is a special advisor to a Congressional national committee on healthcare affordability.”

He paused, frowning slightly before continuing. “And before you shove your foot even further down your mouth, you’ve apparently forgotten that she’s also my wife.”

Cassie stared in shock at Ethan, her ears ringing. His wife?!? That’s how he chose to end this? She thought they were partners and equals first, but clearly, she’d been mistaken.

“I heard you’d gotten married,” van Rijn said, flustered, “but I didn’t realize it was to…”

His words trailed off, and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he glanced at Cassie.

Ethan, too, watched her warily as she continued to stand there in stony silence, arms folded tightly across her front.

As she grappled with her emotions, feeling the old imposter syndrome return, Cassie knew she would blow her top if she didn’t walk away now. Preferably with her dignity intact.

“It was a pleasure,” she almost tripped over the word, “to meet you, Dr. van Rijn. I have to get back to work.”

She nodded rigidly at Ethan. “I’ll see you later.”

She was practically running once she was out of sight, unable to slow down despite the heat making her lightheaded.

Cassie often counted her blessings that she’d gotten a chance to work with Ethan, the compassionate and caring doctor who’d captured her heart. But for the first time in her life, she wished she’d never met Dr. Ramsey.

Part 3: The Aftermath

Part 4: The Closure

Ethan poured Malbec into a long-stemmed wine glass for Cassie the moment he heard her keys rattle in the apartment door. He’d had his ears cocked for the last half-hour, the trepidation building with every passing minute.

He heard the swoosh of the hallway closet door as she likely hung up her coat and the clatter of her shoes hitting the hardwood floor. Just as she walked into the living room, he took a large swallow of his wine and promptly started coughing when it went down the wrong pipe.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asked, her brow furrowed in concern as she approached him and brushed her hand up and down his back.

Ethan nodded, wheezing as the cough tickled his throat. He set the glass on the counter before he spilled the drink all over the kitchen floor. Finally, he managed to get himself under control.

Cassie lifted the glass of wine he’d poured for her and sipped slowly, her eyes closing as she savored the taste.

“You always know just what I need,” she said with a deep sigh. “M&M was particularly long and exhausting. Tell me, why did I choose to stay in academic medicine?”

“You’re wrong,” Ethan said quietly, causing her eyes to drift open and stare at him in surprise. “I don’t always know what you need. Something’s gone wrong between us. Things haven’t been the same since Haiti.”

Cassie pursed her lips and watched him above the rim of her glass, not reacting to his statement in any other way. Then she finished her wine and set the glass down on the counter.

“We already discussed this back then and today on text,” Cassie reminded him. “What else is there to say?”

She shrugged, and then her eyes turned hard like steel. “I need to stand on my own, but who you are, what you are…well, it casts a long shadow. I didn’t like how you and Klaus reduced me to someone who exists only because of what you saw in me. And not because I worked hard for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Cassie cut him off. “You might not have meant to, but you defending me without giving me a chance to do it myself, you might as well have.”

“Why can’t I stand up for you?” Ethan said, frustration leaking through as he stabbed his fingers into his hair.

“I need you to stand by me, not for me,” Cassie said, her tone measured in response to his heated one. “I will always be measured by your reputation, just like you have to contend with Naveen’s legacy. We can’t control what others say or do. I’ve accepted it.”

“Then why are you angry with me?” Ethan shot back.

“I’m not angry.”

Cassie closed the distance between them, her smile throwing him off. When she took his hand and laced her fingers through his, he felt as if the tight band around his heart loosened.

“I’m not angry,” she repeated, squeezing his fingers. “But I resent that, despite what we talked about in Haiti, your natural inclination on seeing that Pictagram post was to respond defending my honor.”

“Don’t deny it,” she cautioned when he started to do just that. “If I wanted to shoot down small-minded individuals, I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

Ethan took a deep breath in and then exhaled. “I did want to do that,” he admitted. “I saw red because what they said was so far from reality.”

“If you thought that was bad, it’s good you’re not on Reddit,” Cassie said, twisting her lips in a wry smile.

“You know, if someone attacked your reputation, I’d be upset too.” She nestled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“But we both know the truth. I respect you enough to let you tear into shreds anyone that came at you. Give me the same courtesy, at least professionally,” Cassie added, angling her lips to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“If it was a personal attack, you have my permission to destroy them with that deathly Dr. Ramsey glare.”

Ethan snorted with laughter when she perfectly mimicked his angry expression.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, framing her face between his hands. His lips hovered above hers, waiting, prolonging the anticipation.

“You may kis—”

But she didn’t need to finish for he was already kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Everything was finally right in their world.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[the-outer-topic]

1937 Hong Kong Clipper - Stan Stokes

The Glen L. Martin Company had a long history as a designer and manufacturer of successful flying boats. The company had developed several different flying boats for the Navy, including the PM the P3M and the XP2M. However, when the company began considering the development of a large commercial flying boat for Pan Am, there was considerable internal controversy. The Great Depression was underway and many aircraft manufacturers were going bankrupt. Glenn Martin insisted that the company proceed, and lie was highly motivated to show the world that his organization could design and produce the finest flying boat ever built. The end product of their efforts was the M-130. Credit for its design is shared with Martins Chief Engineer (L.C. Milburn), the Project Engineer (L.D. McCarthy), test pilot (WX. Ebel), and Pail Ams Chief Engineer (Andre Priester.) The first of the three MA 3 Os was the China Clipper. It made its maiden flight on December 30, 1934. The M- 130 had a wingspan of 130 feet, a gross weight of 5 1,000 pounds, and was initially powered by four Twin Wasp radials generating 830-HP each. (In 1938 more powerful engines and automatically adjustable pitch props were refitted onto all three M-130s.) The M-130 had a capacity of 32 passengers, and were equipped with 18 sleeping births. They were flown by a crew of eight professionals. The practical range of the aircraft with a normal load was about 3000-miles, which at a typical cruising speed of 130-MPH implied an endurance of almost 24 hours in the air. One unique design feature of the M-130 was the use of sponsons, or water wings, which actually helped the aircraft lift off from the water. The three M-130s were christened the China, Hawaii and Philippine Clippers by Pan Am. The China Clipper was accepted by Pan Am in October of 1935. In November this aircraft flew from Alameda, California to Manila in the Philippines; completing the 8,200 mile journey with a total flight time of 59 hours and 48 minutes. It arrived in Manila only two minutes behind its scheduled arrival time. The Philippine Clipper entered service next and was used for survey flights to map the Manila to Hong Kong route. The Hawaii Clipper entered service in October of 1936. This aircraft, unfortunately was lost during a flight in 1938 from Guarn to Manila, and its fate is unknown. The Philippine Clipper was lost in 1943 on a flight from Hawaii to San Francisco. Lost in bad weather the plane hit a mountain northwest of the city. The China Clipper was utilized by the US Navy during the War, and was returned to Pan AM in late 1943. For the next year it flew the route from Miami to Africa. On the night of January 18, 1945 the China Clipper crashed while attempting a landing in Trinidad. At the time of this tragedy the aircraft had successfully flown more than three million miles. In Stan Stokes painting the China Clipper takes off from Hong Kongs busy harbor in the late 1930s. The China Clipper may be the best known and most-loved commercial aircraft in history. It signalled the beginning of long distance commercial airline service, which by revolutionizing international passenger travel and mail delivery, made the Earth a rnuch smaller place for all of its inhabitants

[storiesbyrhi]

Bones and All - Chapter 14: Eat Me

Eddie Munson/Reader Series Masterlist

Warnings: canon typical violence/gore, swearing, abusive parents, animal farming/slaughterhouse setting (1 scene only); psychiatric hospital setting (1 scene only); discussion of religion; suicidal ideation/thoughts; murder; mid-level smut; no beta; updated each chapter

Synopsis: A Bones and All AU. What do you hunger for?

Chapter Summary: It's time to eat. 4390 words.

Author's Note: I have resurrected two canonically dead ST characters for this penultimate chapter. Gone too soon, imo.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite little hellion!” Benny Hammond called as he appeared from the kitchen.

Eddie stood to greet the man, they hugged. “Hey, Benny. How you doin’, man?”

“Doing good, doing good. Heard you were back. Staying for long?” Benny asked, glancing at you.

“Shit. Sorry. Benny’s, this is Y/N. Y/N, Benny. Wayne and him go fishing sometimes. Used to live at the park till he built this place,”

“Nice to meet you,” you said.

Benny beamed and gave Eddie a strange sort of look very much designed to embarrass him. There were some raised eyebrows and smirking involved.

“And, ah, we… we don’t know how long we’re here for,”

“Sounds about right. You here for dinner?” Benny rounded the restaurant’s counter, speaking as he walked.

“Yeah. We’re grabbing some takeaway. Wayne’s home so thought we’d eat with him,” Eddie said, leaning against the counter.

Benny looked over his shoulder and through the window between the restaurant and the kitchen. The burger joint was busy, not too packed yet though. He’d heard one of the waitresses whispering about Eddie when she brought the order through, figured he’d come see his favourite weirdo himself.

“Shouldn’t be too long,” Benny said, rapping his knuckles on the countertop.

After a brief catch-up, you and Eddie returned to the truck and drove back to Forest Hills. The sun was setting over Hawkins, bathing the town in a saturated orange. When you pulled up in front of the trailer, you smiled to yourself, thinking maybe the thing could do with a coat of marigold paint.

Inside, Jeopardy! was on the television, Wayne answering along.  

“We brought dinner,” Eddie said, putting the paper bag on the kitchen bench.

Wayne stood and walked over, smiling at you. “Edward seems to have misplaced his manners. We ain’t been formally introduced,” he said. You could hear the Munson mischief in his tone.

Eddie froze. “Shit. Sorry. I just…” Forgot to introduce you both because you both feel like family, like part of me, and it makes no sense that you don’t know each other. “Dunno. Sorry.”

You and Wayne did the work for him, introducing yourselves. Wayne acted as if you belonged in the trailer, like it made perfect sense for you to have shown up and moved in.

After eating Benny’s exceptionally good burgers, a calm took over the trailer. Wayne was sitting in the corner armchair, and you and Eddie on the couch. When a commercial break during Miami Vice started, Wayne cleared his throat.

“So, you two heading back out soon?” He was trying to act casual, but even a mostly-stranger like you could hear that it was not a casual question.

“Probably. But it’s gonna be different this time.” You and Eddie hadn’t talked about any more specifics of Notre Dame, so it surprised you that he offered the plan up so early. “We’re thinking of getting a place up north. Near Notre Dame. Settling down for a while.”

Wayne looked at his nephew for a long while. He’d never truly understood Eddie. Never could reason why a kid that smart and that beautiful couldn’t find his place in the world. It never stopped him from loving Eddie though. Wayne loved his nephew like his own, and he’d never seen him so at peace. Whoever you were, Eddie had quite clearly found a part of himself in you and it had afforded him comfort and happiness. 

“Sounds good. Be up near Lake Michigan there. Maybe I could come see yas when the fishing gets good,” Wayne said.

Eddie smiled, the pride in Wayne’s expression too much for him to process.

“We’d like that,” you answered for Eddie. “I’ve never been fishing.”

…

Eddie woke first the next morning. A sunbeam shining through the blinds was lighting a patch of your bare back. You were sleeping soundly on your stomach, and Eddie stayed still, hugging his pillow, watching you.

The dust bunnies in the air danced, only visible when the sun hit the windows just right. The refrigerator hummed in the background, and beyond that all the normal noise of Forest Hills.

Eddie thought about his life. Despite the tragedy and the trauma, he had always pushed toward some form of happiness. He was remarkably resilient when it boiled down to it. Notre Dame, he thought, was going to be the proper start of his life though. Meaning no disrespect to Wayne or any of his friends in Hawkins, Eddie considered the plan to be the first domino in a line of things that would finally go his way.

When your eyes opened and you adjusted to the light, you smiled at Eddie.

“Hi,” your voice croaked.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, reaching out gently to swipe his thumb along your cheekbone. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,”

“It’s better than the couch, huh?”

You nodded in agreement; the little fold out bed was definitely earning its keep. Eddie watched you stretch then settle back under the covers. You watched him too, as an idea made its way into his head and he suddenly rolled over so his back was to you.

“Spoon me,” he ordered.

“What?”

“I wanna be the little spoon… Please.”

It was too cute not to give in. Shuffling closer, you slid an arm around Eddie’s waist as you pushed yourself into the curve of his body. He took your hand and held it to his chest, your fingertips just able to feel the beat of his heart.

Soon your breathing fell in sync and you closed your eyes again. It took a while for either of you to say anything or move even a little bit.

Eventually, Eddie spoke first. “Wanna see Max and Dustin before we go,”

“Okay,”

“But I want to go soon,”

“Me too,” you replied, full of daydreams and fantasies about what life could be like.

With bellies full of mostly just coffee and toast, you and Eddie left the trailer and wandered over to the park’s playground.

Eddie was hung upside down from the jungle gym, while you laid on the ground beneath him. His hair almost touched your face. You were giggling at each other like school children when the cop car pulled up. You read ‘CHIEF’ along the side.

Eddie climbed down and positioned himself between you and the man who got out the Chevrolet K5 Blazer.

“Stand down, kid… Not here to arrest ya,”

“Easy mistake,” Eddie replied, earning him a small smirk from the cop.

“Who’s this?”

“Jane Doe. Kidnapped her on my way into town. Neighbourhood Watch rat me out?”

“Good to see you haven’t changed, Eddie.”

Eddie kicked at the dirt. You didn’t know if he was being defensive was the best route to take with the cops, but there was a genuine rapport between the two men.

“Y/N, this is Hopper. He’s… ah… one of the good ones,” Eddie introduced. “Hopper, Y/N,”

“Hi. That’s some high praise coming from you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie deflected. “Pigs in a blanket, fry ‘em like bacon,”

“Wow. Nice. Is that one of your songs? You write that?” Hopper quipped.

“Oh, you like it?”

“Yeah, love it.”

They had a momentary stare-off while you glanced around the trailer park to see if there was an audience. There was.

“Um… Did you… need something?” you asked, mostly intending to break the stalemate rather than enquire about Hopper’s visit.

“You here about Mike’s dad?” Eddie asked then.

“Yeah, you heard?”

“Mike was here with the others the night before last. His dad dropped him off. Called yesterday asking to keep an ear out. Trailer park gossip and all that,” Eddie explained.

“Didn’t see Ted drop Mike off?”

“Nah, think they all met up at Red’s first,”

“Max?”

“Yeah,”

“Right,” Hopper said, pulling his little notebook out to check Eddie’s statement against others he’d already gathered.

“Wayne wasn’t around, was he?”

“Nah. He’s still doing nights at the plant,”

“And you?” Hopper asked, pointing a pen your way. “You with the kids?”

“No. I was tired. From travelling. I went to bed early,”

“Ohhhkay. Got it.” Hopper put his notebook away. With his hands on his hips, he looked around, then asked, “So, Mike ever talk about his dad?”

Eddie shrugged. “Just the normal stuff,” Eddie answered. “Bitched when he had curfew. Bitched when he didn’t get enough pocket money. Bitched when he didn’t get what he wanted. Rich kid shit, you know?”

Hopper smiled, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. “That'd be right… Alright, well, any of that trailer park gossip comes through, do me a favour and send it my way,”

“See something – say something. Sir, yes, sir!” Eddie replied, standing to attention and saluting.

“Jesus,” Hopper mumbled, turning to get back in his truck. “Stay out of trouble, alright? The both of you.”

You and Eddie nodded in unison and watched Hopper drive out of Forest Hills.

“Was he a good dad?” you asked Eddie.

“Who? Hopper?”

“No, Ted,”

“Eh, yes and no. Well, I mean, compared to mine – yes. Compared to yours – also yes. But I don’t think he gave a shit about his kids… And his wife is a total babe, you know? But everyone knows she…”

“She what?”

Eddie tried to suppress a grin, scratching his neck. “Let’s just say she’s clearly not getting the attention she needs at home,”

“Oh,” you replied, biting your bottom lip and nodding.

Eddie watched you for a second, gauging if you were going to spiral into an episode of grief and guilt.

“I bet he has a huge life insurance policy,” you said, surprising Eddie.

…

A few days later and you were parked out the front of Dustin Henderson’s house, the engine on Wayne’s truck still running. Eddie slammed down on the truck’s horn again.

“Jesus, Eddie. Give him a second!” Max yelled, kicking Eddie’s seat from behind. 

“Watch it, Red,”

“Or what? You’ll turn this car around and nobody gets ice cream, Dad.”

You tried to hold it in, but a small snort of laughter escaped. Eddie shot you a look. You shrugged back at him.

Dustin appeared, running down his drive and throwing himself into the back with Max. “Sorry! Mews got stuck up a tree!”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re wasting daylight here,” Eddie said, foot already on the accelerator.

Fort Wayne was less than two hours away, and the drive seemed even shorter with the entertainment of Eddie, Dustin, and Max’s constant banter and bickering. They all shut up as Eddie pulled into a free parking space and everyone got out of the car. The live music was already audible, and you were still a block away.

Max read about a comic book and vinyl record show, complete with bands and skateboarding demos. She’d seen a flyer up at Hawkins Arcade and had been ready to beg Eddie to take her. It was perfect though; he said yes immediately on the condition Dustin could come.

As soon as the four of you entered the huge warehouse full of super cool people and buzzing with life, the kids both dashed off.

Eddie shook his head. “So much for quality time,”

“We’ll round them up for lunch, ‘kay?” you said to him, taking his hand.

It didn’t take long for them to find their way back to Eddie though. Dustin would appear out of nowhere with something to show him, and Max would wander through with questions about whichever band was playing.

By lunch, you’d reformed and found a table in front of some food trucks. With two bites of burrito in his mouth, Dustin asked, “Did Hopper come see you guys too?” Dustin asked.

“He’s talking to everyone. That’s what happens when someone goes missing,” Max replied.

“He seems… nice… for a cop…” you chimed in. Eddie gave you a look. “What?” you threw back. “He was!”

“He’s definitely the least shitty one in the department,” Dustin agreed.

“And how would you know that?” Eddie questioned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,”

“Ah, yeah. That’s why I’m asking,”

“Well, what’s your problem with him?”

“Thought you said he was okay?” you asked Eddie then, interrupting his back and forth with Dustin.

“He is. He, uh… He was good to Wayne when… my dad left. And everything. If I ever had to call the cops, I’d call him, alright?”

“Yeah, well, he's still not gonna find Mike’s dad,” Max said, causing the rest of you to look at her with pause. “I mean, he bailed, right? That’s what dads do.”

She left unsaid the clincher that it’s what hers had done after her parents divorced. It’s what she believed Eddie’s had done. Dustin’s dad wasn’t around but you didn’t know why. Maybe it was a hat-trick.

Nobody said anything for a minute.

“Well… Not to add to the list of shitty men who leave list, but um-”

“It’s not like that,” Max interrupted. She looked to Dustin. “Right? We don’t…”

“Oh, no! No!” he caught on.

“You don’t leave leave. We don’t see you like that,”

“Thanks, Red. You don’t have to…” Eddie gestured his hands around her and Dustin vaguely. “But, ah, yeah, in a couple day, me and Y/N are gonna head off again.” He paused briefly to read their faces. No sign of hurt. “We’re thinking of staying put somewhere though. Maybe, you know, rent a place or whatever.”

Max and Dustin’s expressions mirrored each other. They were neutral at first, but then they both started to giggle, giving each other knowing looks.

You and Eddie watched, a little puzzled.

“Okay, cool, good talk,” Eddie said as he stood, picking up his lunch trash and walking away to find a bin.

Eddie leaving made the kids laugh harder. You figured they had an in-joke or were just amused at how seriously Eddie delivered the news.

When they settled down, Max turned to you and asked, “Can I come visit? When you get a place?”

“Yeah. Of course,”

“Me too?”

“You too.”

Dustin carried his heavy bag of comics back to the truck happily at the end of the day. Max picked out a record and a graphic novel. Eddie bought a record for Wayne, but otherwise you both saved your money.

The kids were quiet on the ride home, lost in their fantasy worlds. You watched them in your sun visor’s mirror for a bit. They were easy to love.

Eddie reached out and threaded his fingers through yours. You were both ready for the next chapter.   

…

Notre Dame was a whole world within itself. It had thousands of people living their own lives. As you’d anticipated, not all those people were gracing the world with goodness. To you and Eddie, it was fish in a barrel.

For a week, you both watched him. He had a tiny apartment in a building of mostly students, although he certainly wasn’t one himself. Late 30s if you were being kind, but more likely pushing 42. He was small. Danger didn’t radiate off him, but something did that kept people at bay. Something nasty and noxious.

You played the dual role of bait and reconnaissance. Pretending to be a Notre Dame freshman, you struck up a conversation and found out his name was Bert and in exchange for the tiny apartment being rent free, he acted as the building’s handyman.

“Well, where’s the owner?” you asked him, twirling hair around your finger.

“Owns a bunch of buildings like this across the Midwest. Rents ‘em out cheap. As long I keep collecting the rent off the kids, send it to ‘em, he ain’t gonna bother me. I’m like my own man out here, you know?”

“That’s so cool. You’re like, the boss of this whole place, huh?” The sickly-sweet voice you were purring out made you feel dirty. In a bad way.

“President, more like it.”

When you met back up with Eddie later, you kissed him so hard he thought you were gonna bite his tongue out his head. “Don’t ever let someone like that touch me,” you told him seriously.

Eddie snorted. “Not letting anyone like anything touch you. You’re mine now.” He kept talking, asking questions about Bert, but you’d got stuck back at the start.

“Say that again.”

Eddie looked at you. “Say what?”

“That I’m yours.”

He saw your blown pupils and parted lips. In his deepest voice, Eddie repeated, “You’re mine now.”

You fucked in the back of the car you’d taken from a date-raping Polsci major. He’d tasted like meatloaf and Red Vines. His name didn’t matter.

…

Getting rid of Bert’s things was easy. He didn’t have much in the way of sentimental possessions, and the place wasn’t big enough to hoard anything.

Going through his mail and stacks of paperwork, you discovered his story was true. The owner of the building required a monthly cheque of combined rents. However, it appeared that Bert was charging the students more than necessary. He was skimming the top, allowing him to not only live rent free, but not work either, save for the odd handyman requirement.

“Think I’ll make a pretty hot handyman,” Eddie said, leaning against the doorframe between the living room and kitchen.

You were at the table and looked up at him. He was in only his boxers, with a toolbelt slung low around his waist. You wanted to laugh, but he did make a pretty hot handyman. Not letting the idiot win, you deflected. “What if I wanna be the handywoman?”

“Well, I thought this was more your style. Found it on one of the campus noticeboards while you were doing recon.” Eddie handed you a flyer. The college’s library had a casual shelving job going. “I know it’s not super fun, but… Books. You’ll probably overhear a lot of weird shit too. I don’t know,”

“No, Eddie, it’s perfect. Thank you.” You stood and let him pull you into a hug. “So… Is that a screwdriver or are you just happy to see me?”

…

On the verge of dropping the bags you were juggling, you unlocked the apartment's front door and went inside.

“Eddie?! I’m home,” you called to no answer. Figuring he wasn’t far behind you, probably replacing 2D’s kitchen lightbulb again, you began to unpack the groceries you’d bought. Flittering around the kitchen happily, you smiled to yourself.

For the month you and Eddie had assumed Bert’s place, 2D had been obsessed with your boyfriend. The two girls who lived there were Women Studies majors, and his long hair and good manners charmed them no end. They liked you too, but it was Eddie who had returned to their kitchen again and again to replace mysteriously blown lights.

From outside you could hear music being played through a loud and crackly boombox. Bravely we hope, against all hope; there is so much at stake, seems our freedom's up, sang Jimi Jamison.

It was only when you paused to crack open a can of Dr Pepper did you smell him. You cursed yourself for not being more alert, like Eddie had been trying to teach you to be. Hunting predators was making you sharper and smarter. You shouldn’t have been caught out like that.

Each step you took out of the kitchen and into the living room was slow and measured. The long braid of human hair sitting on the coffee table, spilling out of Sully’s bag, was the first thing you saw. Then, he emerged from the bedroom, holding one of Eddie’s t-shirts in his hands.

In the burning heart, just about to burst, there's a quest for answers; an unquenchable thirst. The music pulsed through the apartment. Neither you nor Eddie liked Survivor, but you’d like them even less now.

“Sully.” It wasn’t a greeting nor acknowledgment. It was a warning. “He’ll be home soon,”

“But he ain’t here now, is he, missy?”

“What do you want?”

Sully looked through you, eyes dull and lips pulled down into a melted frown. Neither of you moved, just stood watching each other with bated breath.

In the darkest night, rising like a spire; in the burning heart, the unmistakable fire.

“I ate with you. I dried off with you. Helped you on your way. That don’t mean nothing to you?”

Before you could reply, the man took a step towards you, then another.

“Stop. Sully.” You backed up into the kitchen and slammed the door between rooms closed.

Sully threw himself against the door, ramming hard. You yelped and frantically pushed the kitchen table against the door.

“You don’t wanna do this, Sully!”

“No, missy, YOU don’t wanna fuckin’ do THIS. Lemme in! Let! Me! In!” He roared with fury, the kitchen door shaking with each attempt to get in.

You were pushing the window open and trying to calculate if you could jump from three stories up without any major damage to your body when Sully went silent. No yelling. No banging. A trick, you thought, mere seconds away from climbing out.

“Baby?!” Eddie’s desperate voice shouted.

“Eddie?!”

You pulled the table away from the door and went tumbling into the living room. Eddie had a plastic bag pulled over Sully’s head, the older man’s hands flailing around trying to gain the upper hand.

“Knife! Knife! Go,” Eddie ordered.

In the short time it took to run back into the kitchen and pull a knife from the drawer, Sully had clawed a hole through the plastic and taken a deep breath in. It was enough to fuel him, finding grip in Eddie’s jeans and throwing them both to the ground.

They were fighting too quickly for you to do anything, then Sully landed an elbow into Eddie’s nose, causing him to fall back. Sully crawled towards you and you slashed the knife at him, cutting along his cheek.

With seemingly little care about the blade, Sully pulled you to the ground and put his weight on top of you. He smelt of death. Decay. Feasting on corpses and never brushing his teeth. He was a man possessed.

Rabid.

He snapped his teeth at you over and over until Eddie had his hands around his neck and face, pulling him up. Sully yelped with surprised, but moved fast enough to get Eddie’s ring finger in his mouth. Sully sucked in and bit down hard enough to sever the digit. He swallowed it whole.

Eddie hardly reacted, still pulling him off you. You saw it then. The knife was sticking out of Sully’s stomach. You’d managed to punch it into him at some point. Like Eddie, Sully was unphased by his injury.

You looked around for another weapon, too slow to see Sully rip the knife from himself and tear it across Eddie’s torso. The sound Eddie made froze you in place, terrified and unable to comprehend what was happening.

Sully began to laugh, a horrible high pitched sound that rattled you. You watched as he dropped the knife and bent over Eddie. He ripped open his shirt to reveal the deep gash along Eddie’s chest. Sully lowered himself and started to eat.

The abject horror broke you.

In one swift and violent move, you picked up the braided hair rope and went sliding to your knees next to Sully. You wrapped it once then twice around his neck, pulling tightly. Immediately, Sully kicked off Eddie and tried to get free. You were holding strong, tears streaming down your face.

Weakly, Eddie picked the knife off the ground and rolled onto his hands and knees. He walked on all fours to Sully and stabbed him in the chest with perfect aim. Sully’s heart was pierced. You felt the life drain from him.

Eddie collapsed onto the floor but you couldn’t let go of Sully. You pulled the rope tighter and tighter until it felt like you could pop his head off. When you finally dropped the rope, your hands were red and raw.

“Eddie,” you said, voice hoarse. Scrambling over to him, you held your hands over the wound and started to sob. “Eddie?!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he replied, words falling over each other. “S’fine, fine. S’okay,”

“No, no. No, Eddie. We have to get you to a hospital,”

“No, no, no, no. Baby, baby. You c-can’t. Can’t do that. Baby, babe. S’okay,”

“Stop. Stop, Eddie. You can’t die. You can’t leave me here. Okay? I can’t do this without you. I don’t wanna do this without you. So, get up. Get up,”

“Shhhh, baby,” was all he could say.

“No. No! Eddie!”

“Shhhhh, listen, listen to me. You’re-” He coughed up blood. “You’re gonna be f-fine. ‘Kay? Bu-but I need ya to-to do somethin’ for m-me, yeah?”

“No! No,”

“I d-don’t wanna… don’t wanna go to waste, understand? N-need you t-to do somethin’ for me?”

You held his face while shaking your head. Your tears landed on his chest, diluting the blood. Your lungs felt like they were going to go dry and crunchy.

Eddie continued with his dying wish. “Yeah, yeah, babe. You g-gotta e-eat me. C-can’t rot. D-don’t wanna… rot. B-burn. Don’t wanna… b-burn.”

The sobbing hurt so much that it was as if your spine was trying to shake itself loose. You laid your head down on Eddie’s chest, the smell of blood so strong it was making you dizzy.

“I love you,” you told him. “I love you, I love you.”

He was too weak to reply. You listened to his laboured and wet breathing, then shuffled around to look at the wound. Two things bloomed in you simultaneously. While your mind said, stop the bleeding and he may survive this, the monster in you yelled, EAT!

Eddie tasted like lust. His flesh sweet and his blood savoury. You wanted to keep him safe inside you. Swallow him, bones and all, and have him deep in you forever and ever. You wanted to feel him under your skin. Wanted to be one and the same. Wanted consummation. Wanted love. Wanted…

You screamed until your throat couldn’t anymore, then got to the phone and called 9-1-1. With your voice almost entirely gone, you managed to give your address and beg, “Hopper. From Hawkins. Call Hopper.”

Crawling back to Eddie, you held his hand and passed out.

What you wanted most was to never be alone again.

End Note: Spoilers for the novel/film below! I love the film's version of this sequence of events. When he begged to be eaten, and she did, I was sobbing. Genuinely sobbing. Then, when I read the book and it was so different and 10/10 anticlimactic, I was like... oh. That sucks. So, we have gone with the film version but I'm leaving it with the cliffhanger of how this pans out. See you in Chapter 15!

Fic Taglist: @azydrateanatomy @pussy-drunk @mrsdollardog @akiratoro420 @thatsbunnysmind

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

[fashionbooksmilano]

Peter Marino One Way

Peter Marino, Text by Silvia Karman Cubina and Jérôme Sans

Skira Rizzoli, New York 2017, 140 pages, 35,8 x 37 cm,  Softcover in box, English, ISBN  978-0-8478-4518-7

euro 40,00

email if you want to buy :booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

This catalog documents the exhibition titled One Way: Peter Marino, opening December 4, 2014, at the Bass Museum of Art in Miami Beach. Through a selection of paintings, sculptures, photographs, films, and architectural works, One Way: Peter Marino celebrates internationally acclaimed architect Peter Marino’s connoisseurship of art and his influence on it, exploring the unique interplay of disciplines that inform his oeuvre. The exhibition, curated by Jérôme Sans, takes the viewer on a journey of influences, from Marino’s personal collection of contemporary art to his architecture and design to his relationships with some of the most acclaimed international contemporary artists. Peter Marino, FAIA, is the principal of Peter Marino Architect PLLC, the New York–based architecture firm he founded in 1978. Widely known for his residential and retail work for the most iconic names in the fashion and art worlds, Marino’s award-winning architecture, which also includes large-scale commercial, cultural, and hospitality projects, maintains a constant dialogue between the interior and exterior and has redefined modern luxury worldwide.

07/01/23

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[usafphantom2]

U.S. Navy F-5 fighter accident

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 06/01/2023 - 08:00 in Aeronautical Accidents, Military

A U.S. Navy pilot was rescued on Wednesday after ejecting from a Northrop F-5 Tiger II aircraft shortly after taking off from the Key West Naval Air Station in Florida.

The pilot, who is part of the VFC-111 Composite Fighter Squadron, known as "SunDowners", a Navy reserve squadron, performed routine training when he needed to eject.

Kent Cummins, an officer at Key West Naval Station, said the pilot ejected around 9:20 a.m. (local time) and was recovered soon after by rescue teams using a MH-60S Seahawk about 25 miles south of the station.

“A NAS Key West search and rescue team launched an MH-60S helicopter and rescued the pilot being transported to a hospital in the Miami area for further evaluation,” NAS Key West said in a Facebook post on Wednesday.

"The safety and well-being of our pilot remain our top priority. The cause of the incident will be investigated. More details will be released as soon as they are available," concluded NAS Key West.

The F-5 Tiger II is an update of the F-5 that was used by U.S. forces during the Vietnam War, which was designed as a light fighter, but was eventually relegated to a training function.

An F-5N of the VFC-13 "Saints" of the U.S. Navy.

The U.S. Navy's F-5 Tiger II are often used to simulate foreign aircraft during military exercises, playing a role known as the "aggressor squadron".

Tags: Aeronautical AccidentsMilitary AviationF-5E/F Tiger IIUSN - United States Navy/U.S. Navy

Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Daytona Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work around the world of aviation.

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It was 1985 when it happened with Dr.Finkelstein.

    * * *

First I have to start in New York when I met Louis. We met on September 21, 1980. It was 9 days before my 21stbirthday. We met at a sex club in the meatpacking district called the Mineshaft. It was a very famous underground sex club at the time. It was the kind of club that men did not have takes off their clothes and there were lots of dark places to have sex with you clothes half-off. And they had ver. strict rules about what to wear, denim and leather, no dress pants, (once I had to go home and change clothes), no colognes, and no Le Costae shirts.  Nothing feminine or commercial labeled, except for maybe Harley Davidson. It was a three story club right in the heart of the district with dark cavernous wall a bar on the first floor a basement full of closet sized rooms, rooms with glory holes and a big center room with two three empty bathtubs (don’t ask me). 

“They are going to eat you alive.” The big burly guy in the flannel shirt at the front door said.

I went up to the bar and ordered a bud in a bottle. . I fooled around a little with a couple of guys. And then made the decent to the basement. It was dark and spooky like a kid’s spook house, but it was a sex spook hose. Guys glided by me shirtless, groping my groin and feeling my butt, I pushed my way thru the night of the living sexy dead and made my way to corner where thru the dim light coming from the staircase I could see what was going on. Men where having sex with each other mostly standing up on their knees., men were making out with poppers such up their noses and other guys were trying to join in with other guys having sex.

It was debauchery. It was so wrong. And yet it was so right for the time. It September was 1980 after all. 

I saw him standing in an abandoned closest with no door. He was just standing there. Well I think he was smoking a joint.  Our eyes locked. I moved closer to him and joined him in the hollowed out closet. We started making out heavy. And he reached for my belt buckle and undid my jeans. He gave me a blowjob right here. He came up and whispered in my year. “I do whatever you want,” He said.

OK” I whisper back just keep sucking.”

He sucked I came. I pulled up my pants ready to move on when our eyes locked again.

“Would you come my place I got some great pot?”

“Uh,” I said I just came and all wanted was to home. But there was something about him. I could barely see him but what the hell I was attracted t something and it wasn’t just his blowjob.

When we got out on the street it was raining and we hurried into a cab, which was one lined up around the block all these cabs knew of this underground place.  

“22nd between 7th and 8th.” He barked at the cab driver. I stared at him as he held my hand. He was dark. (I later found out he was Greek Armenian) He looked like a crow with slicked back rich black hair and the beak to go with it. He had a slightly pocked marked face, which let to him handsomeness. Some of his friend who always say he looked like Robert DeNiro although I never saw the resemblance. Nevertheless he was a catch. 

We entered his small railroad flat on the ground floor of the 20-unit tenement. He place was all done up like the 30’s and 40’s he had a cabinets full of all kinds of chochkees, every type of salt and pepper shaker that was made. Dice, ballerinas, dogs, cats you name it he had it. He had his apartment painted this Miami Pink color and I would usually think pink was a little much but, he make it work. He green and pink abstract drapes. Don’t get me wrong this was no faggy decorated place. This guy had class. And the place was beautiful.

So he smoked some more joints had some more sex and I spend the night. I was off in the morning to get back to my apartment I shared with my sister and her two lesbian lovers in Park Slope, Brooklyn. They were used to my sexual exploits and weren’t surprised by me staying out all night.

Just as I was getting dressed Louis asked if I wanted to come back tonight and have dinner. 

“Ok, sure, that would be nice. I answered.

He handed me a piece of torn paper.

“Here’s my address and my phone”

The next night I took the F train all the way from Brooklyn, which made allot of stops before arriving at 23rd and 6th. I could have chosen a better faster route but I still a little new to New York having just arrived there in June after by post college 3 month trek across Europe. I was so drowsy from the night before and the long train ride that I almost missed my stop.

I dragged myself up the dirty steps to the exit and walked down 6th to 22nd and then I was going to walk the ½ block or so to his apt for a date.

As I was walking, a big man grasped me from behind in the crux of his forearm, elbow and bicep around my neck. Another man punched me in the gut. 

“Give us your money or you a dead man.” Whispered the man grabbing my throat.

I gave them the $36 00 I had in my pocket.

Then the other guy took off my glasses and broke them and said, “Now where’s the rest you got hidden?”

When he slapped my face I came out of shock and realized I was being mugged! 

“That’s all I have I swear.” I cried out.

“You’re lying. Go down this alley with us come on.” The gripper said. 

I don’t know what happened but I am glad that he slapped me because I became aroused enough to break away from them and run down the street, God knows what they were going to do to me in the alley and I gave them all the money I had. Some people in New York at the time I later learned carried around  “Mugger money” separate from their wallet and would just had it over when they had more money in their billfolds.  I didn’t know that trick.

So I ran down the street, towards Louis’s place. Everything was a blur because I am somewhat nearsighted but I saw a young woman walking down the street toward the direction I had just come from.

“Don’t go down there I just got mugged. There are two black guys down there.” I yelled at her. She was quickly taken aback and stopped dead in her Capezios. 

“Huh?” Is all she could eek out? “Ah yea OK OK . Sure. Sure. She said as she scampered away back from whence she came without an ounce of concern for my well-being.

I rang Louis’s bell frantically. He answered the door all dressed up for a date- a vintage Hawaiian Rayon short sleeve shirt. Khaki pants and Huaraches. 

“Don’t wanna rush the seasons,” He would always say even if it were cold in September. Wait until the official date of each season before you dressed for the next. You had to abide by the Amy Vanderbilt rules of no white after Labor Day, No Velvet after February some etiquette book he tried to abide by. Funny how I still try to stick to that but a scaled down California version.

I broke down at the door sobbing

“I’ve just been mugged!” I cried out.

He took me in and comforted me and we had a little dinner in his dinky railroad with all his vintage kitchenware. It was impressive.  We talked into the night about Europe and languages and acting. Where I was from, what was I doing in New York? I found out he was a florist and a struggling actor. He loved the theatre and had every Playbill from since he saw his first Broadway show at 7. He was from New Jersey, he used to teach High School Drama for 7 years and decided to move to New York and try to be famous. He told me how great studying with Stella Adler and did a few plays and a couple of NYU student films and supported himself by doing flowers for Tavern on the Green and several other restaurants. 

. He gave me culture. I remember I would always take from his bookshelf and an autobiography of Jean Cocteau and read parts of it and relate to it and want to be him. I thought I could never date anyone who didn’t know who Cocteau was and Dada. (Years later I did date a man I though was the love of my life who had no clue of the French Avanti Garden world.)

OK. Here we are and we have sex and he invites me to sleep over. I ended up staying for almost seven years. He used to joke to our friends,            

“He’s the man who came to dinner AND STAYED!” He would cavort this line to anyone who mentioned any interest in how we met. .  Sometimes I thought he thought I still be a nothing living in Brooklyn if he hadn’t taken me under his wing. Truth was I was too afraid to even go outside for a few days after the mugging and we would rush to get a cab to get somewhere. The street scared me for while. Especially at night when we would come home from the theatre.

THAT’S one of the reasons it evolved that I moved in with him (and it being a $300 rent controlled apartment in Chelsea) He was 12 years older than me was 20 he was 32 and some of his friends didn’t approve and I had to earn my way through their dinner parties where at first they looked at me with a kind of wariness.. But I grew on them and age difference-nobody seemed to care. Sometimes people give you a look but it was 1980 and it was on between us.

On May 18, 1981, the New York Native, then America's most influential gay newspaper, published the first newspaper report on the disease that became known as AIDS. We it seemed were at the epicenter of the plague. But we made the most of our little railroad flat (one room goes into another and into another in a straight line) not allot of privacy but we were young, I was way young and he accommodated us and it was real cheap and right in Manhattan.  The sex.  Well, it only happened when he wanted it to. If I initiated it he would start giggling like a little girl. He would fuck me, cum in me, and then suck me off afterwards. That was it. He was a gentleman and always got me a warm washcloth as I sat to wipe the cum off my dick while I sat on the toilet waiting for the cum to void.  So I fucked around on him. I think he was monogamous but not me. I was a rabbit.  Bath houses, Sex Clubs, Back room bars, the Piers, Not Central Park I was too scared for that. But I was a mother fucking sex monger and he supposed just didn’t know it or looked the other way. 

So I started to go to therapy, a guy I tricked with gave me the name of this place called Madison Counseling. It was made up of 4 therapists each with their own patient load but every week they would have a sessions talking about their clients. So it was like having four shrinks helping you fix your problems. 

I wanted to see this woman Joan, who looked like mother earth in Upper East Side Chic but since a patient of hers recommended me already they all agreed that I would be assigned to Betty Zais. Betty looked like James Cagney in drag, She was short with like a English Bulldog build, a nose that looked like it had been scrunched into her face and kind of hunched over shoulders. But she always looked great and dresses in Chanel and wore full makeup, Every time I saw her it was though she had just been shopping and to the hairdresser. She makes the most of her not your normal features and was as darling as a character played by Claudette Colbert. And she started helping me. I didn’t tell her about the constant pot smoking we did back then, but she probably knew. I never told her or showed up stoned, sometimes I wish I did maybe it would make what I go thru now to stay sober easier. 

 After a couple of years of being telling her my problems with Louis, my sexual acting out and my day lying about everything to everyone. She told me it was time to tell my parents that I was gay. 

“No way.” I countered,  “They would disown me and I would never get over it.

For months we discussed it and I finally came around that it was the best thing to do. By now it was 1984 and the world was different then the morals of the 50’s and 60’s that they raised their eight kids with. The seventies kind of tore it all up but they did the best they could to be good Catholics. My father gave up drinking in 1980. My mother went back to work as a Dietian and their kids where all mostly grown and out of the house in Thousand Oaks, California. But how should I tell them? “Mom, Dad I’m gay.” Too much like a TV movie.  We decided on a way to say it that would out me without seeming cliché or dramatic. Some of my siblings knew and my outspoken, demon pot smoker told me=

“NO! They are going to freak out and cut you off. The church doesn’t even accept it and they go once week and they want us all to get married and have grandchildren, and you won’t be able to give them a kiss thinking you might give them AIDS!”

I could see her point but it keep nagging at me. Louis was what 36 now and still never told his parent in New Brunswick, New Jersey. They didn’t need to know. When his mother would call I would answer the phone as if I was a friend dropping by, who happened to and answer his phone!  She was old school New Jersey and wouldn’t even sleep in a hotel because it was not her regular bed. I had this bleak portrait of them eating dinner at the same time talking about the neighbors. I think his father was a Welder.

So Betty Zais and I rehearsed.  Betty would be them. We would switch. They were coming to New York to visit my stodgy Uncle Jerry, her brother who they were staying with on the Upper West Side and my wisecracking wild East Village artist actress, sister Aileen. I got tickets for us to see the Van Gogh Exhibit that was in town at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Aileen wouldn’t go above 14th street so it would just be My Uncle Jerry, Mom and Dad and me. I was to take them thru the show and then tell Uncle Jerry to go that there was something that I had to talk to my parent’s house and they would meet him back at his place on West 75th street.

It was Halloween that day I was 25. The three of them met me on the steps and we went thru the terrific exhibit. My mother got the audio follow along which was the readings placed on the walls next to the paintings’, talking out what was written with some extra commentary but I wanted to go at my own pace. Well I still moved along with the four of us sticking together from the lines of people. 

I came across the section on Gauguin and what an influence he had on Van Gogh when Vincent stayed with him in the tropics. As I was reading it alluded to something along the lines that they were lovers or something?  I saw the look on my mothers face when she heard that part and she stopped her recorder.

“Do you think that’s true what they said about Vincent and Paul being homosexuals?

“I almost blurted it out to her then but the way she said homosexuals stopped me dead its it track. Like they were Satanists who eat small children.

The exhibit was nearing its end and I was a nervous wreck. Finally we got outside to the crisp autumn morning air, which did nothing to snap me out of my anxiety. I feel terrified. 

Luckily Uncle Jerry was out of there first and I told him to go. He left oddly perky. I told them he went home already and I would lead them thru Central Park from the Eastside where the Museum was to the Westside to his place. They seemed ignorantly ok with that. They had no idea what I was going to do.

I was a fast walker and I kept them at a brisk pack thru the National Geographic pictorial of Central Park. My dad was huffing a bit being overweight at the time.

“This is quite the trek!” he exhaled,

“Yea, Tim slow down I got this damn artificial hip.” My Mom exclaimed

OK sorry! I’m just a fast walker.” I told them

But I kept briskly striding,

After about 10 minutes or so I turned around to see them and they were way back.

“Tim, wait we need to sit down.” My Mom yelled to me.

“Sorry you guys, I made my way ½ way back to where they where coming along. 

“Let’s go sit on the bench over there is has a great view.” I coerced.

“OK, just a minute.” My Dad was really out of breath,

“Awe!” My Mom expired catching her breath.

After a few minutes my dad goes,

“They’re having THAT parade downtown today?

I couldn’t answer just nodded and looked at the around. Finally after a couple of beats I stood up before them both on the green winding bench.

Here it goes.

“Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you…” I said shakily

“Is it bad? Mom asked,

“No.” I said unsteadily

There was this long pause and then this voice came out of me so deep, it was not my usual register.  It was like James Earl Jones deep or Fred Munster.

“I’ve been… I’ve been living with a man for the past four years,” I said like a foghorn.

Nothing was said for quite awhile after that pronouncement.

Finally my mother says,  “Are you happy?” But she says it with such forced sincerity its like she does when Grandma’s fruitcake arrives,

“Yes I’m happy,” I say like a new pair of shoes feel.

My dad picks at his nails and zips up his jacket.

“Well we kinda suspected.” My Mom says defeated

“Yeah, guess we knew we just didn’t want it to be true.”  My Dad mumbles out.

“Well everything ok then?” I say ending it.

“Yes!” They both say in quickly oddly in unison.

I walk them back slowly to Jerry’s place and there is an awkward silence but this euphoria is bubbling inside me.

“OK,” I hug them both. “Gotta go, Love You Both. Great seeing you again, Thanks for coming.” I walked down Columbus Ave like a brick had been lifted from my chest.

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Introducing Michael Jay – Your Trusted Painter Contractor

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[techblog3000]

How Is Comcast Supporting Local Communities?

Comcast RISE: Empowering Small Businesses Comcast RISE continues to make a difference. They offer more than just financial help. Businesses get access to media consultations and creative production. A small bookstore in Atlanta received a professional commercial. This boosted their visibility and sales. Comcast RISE also provides technology makeovers. A local café in Miami got new point-of-sale systems. This improved their efficiency and customer service. The program’s impact is widespread, touching various industries and communities.

Comcast RISE also focuses on mentorship. Business owners receive guidance from industry experts. In Los Angeles, a fashion boutique owner learned new marketing strategies. This helped her attract more customers and grow her brand. The program also hosts networking events. These events connect business owners with potential partners and clients. Comcast RISE is not just about financial support; it’s about building a community of thriving businesses.

Project UP: Bridging the Digital Divide Project UP’s impact is growing. They partner with schools and libraries. In Detroit, a library became a Lift Zone. Families now have a place to access the internet. This helps with job searches and online learning. Project UP also supports digital literacy programs. In Houston, workshops teach seniors how to use the internet safely. These efforts ensure everyone can participate in the digital world. Comcast’s investment in digital equity is changing lives.

Project UP also collaborates with local governments. In Boston, they worked with the city to expand internet access in underserved neighborhoods. This initiative provided thousands of residents with affordable internet. Project UP also offers scholarships for digital skills training. In New York, a single mother received a scholarship to learn coding. This opened up new career opportunities for her. Project UP is dedicated to closing the digital divide and empowering communities.

Comcast Cares: Volunteering and Giving Back Comcast Cares Day is a major event. Thousands of employees volunteer nationwide. They clean parks, paint schools, and plant gardens. In Philadelphia, volunteers renovated a community center. This provided a safe space for kids to play and learn. Comcast also supports disaster relief efforts. After hurricanes, they help rebuild homes and restore services. Their commitment to community service is unwavering. Comcast Cares is more than a program; it’s a movement.

Comcast Cares also focuses on education. They partner with schools to provide resources and support. In San Francisco, they donated laptops to a local school. This helped students with their studies and improved their learning experience. Comcast also runs mentorship programs for youth. In Dallas, employees mentor high school students, helping them with career planning and college applications. Comcast Cares is dedicated to making a positive impact on communities across the country.

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[artbusiness5]

USA Art

The art scene in the USA is incredibly diverse and vibrant, encompassing a wide range of styles, mediums, and historical influences. Here’s an overview of key aspects of American art, including its history, major movements, and contemporary trends:

1. Historical Overview

Colonial and Early American Art: Early American art was heavily influenced by European styles and included portraits, landscapes, and historical events. Notable artists include Benjamin West and John Singleton Copley.

19th Century:

Hudson River School: Focused on American landscapes, emphasizing the beauty and majesty of the American wilderness. Key figures include Thomas Cole and Frederic Edwin Church.

American Realism: Artists like Thomas Eakins and James Whistler depicted everyday life with a focus on accuracy and detail.

Early 20th Century:

Ashcan School: Known for its gritty, realistic portrayals of urban life. Prominent artists include George Bellows and John Sloan.

American Modernism: Embraced abstraction and experimental styles. Key figures include Georgia O'Keeffe, Marsden Hartley, and Charles Demuth.

2. Major Art Movements

Abstract Expressionism (1940s-1950s): Characterized by large-scale, abstract works and an emphasis on spontaneous, expressive techniques. Key artists include Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, and Willem de Kooning.

Pop Art (1950s-1960s): Drew inspiration from popular culture and mass media, often using bright colors and commercial techniques. Famous artists include Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein.

Minimalism (1960s-1970s): Focused on simplicity and the use of geometric forms. Prominent artists include Donald Judd and Agnes Martin.

Conceptual Art (1960s-1970s): Emphasized the idea or concept behind the artwork over its aesthetic or material aspects. Key figures include Sol LeWitt and Joseph Kosuth.

Contemporary Art: Encompasses a wide range of styles and practices, often incorporating new media and technology. Notable contemporary artists include Jeff Koons, Cindy Sherman, and Kehinde Wiley.

3. Major Art Institutions and Museums

The Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York City): One of the largest and most comprehensive art museums in the world, with extensive collections spanning various periods and styles.

Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) (New York City): Focuses on modern and contemporary art, including significant collections of abstract, pop, and conceptual art.

The Getty Center (Los Angeles): Known for its impressive collection of European paintings, sculptures, and decorative arts, as well as its research library and conservation efforts.

Smithsonian American Art Museum (Washington, D.C.): Focuses on American art from the colonial period to the present, with a diverse collection of paintings, sculptures, and folk art.

4. Contemporary Trends

Diversity and Inclusion: There is a growing emphasis on representing diverse voices and perspectives, with more focus on artists from various ethnic backgrounds, genders, and socioeconomic statuses.

Digital and New Media Art: The use of digital technology, virtual reality, and interactive media is increasingly prevalent in contemporary art practices.

Social and Political Commentary: Many contemporary artists address social, political, and environmental issues through their work, using art as a platform for activism and dialogue.

Street Art and Graffiti: These forms have gained significant recognition and are often featured in galleries and public spaces. Notable artists include Banksy (although UK-based) and Jean-Michel Basquiat.

5. Art Markets and Collecting

Art Fairs: Major events like Art Basel (Miami Beach) and The Armory Show (New York City) showcase contemporary art and attract collectors and dealers from around the world.

Auction Houses: Houses like Sotheby’s and Christie’s regularly auction high-profile American artworks, often reflecting market trends and collector interests.

Private Collections: Many private collectors and philanthropists contribute to public art institutions and support emerging artists.

6. Art Education and Community

Art Schools: Renowned institutions like the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), and California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) train the next generation of artists.

Art Organizations: Organizations such as the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and various local art councils support artists and art initiatives across the country.

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