#creative passions and genius that are NOT meant to serve you

[yuwuta]

something i think is absolutely bonkers is when fans of an anime/manga start publicly saying fuck you to the mangaka—who is still a very real person—just because the villainous character, who is not real at all, they wanted to fuck died

[miloscat]

[Review] Syberia (PS2)

A graphic adventure, emphasis on the graphics.

Another pick from my monthly retro game club, Syberia is a game I only knew by reputation. While it was developed by Microïds' Canadian division, it was creatively spearheaded by the Belgian comic artist Benoît Sokal who instilled some unique flavours into it. Exploring some similar territory to his earlier game Amerzone, this is a point and click adventure set in a slightly askew version of Europe.

To spare my wrist from pointing and clicking, I opted for the contemporary PS2 port, which has you directly controlling protagonist Kate Walker with the analogue stick, with interactable hotspots getting highlighted as you pass them. Unfortunately the lower resolution does a slight disservice to the visual design of this game, although not as drastically as the DS conversion (which bizarrely, the later ports were based on, I've been told).

The game makes heavy use of prerendered backdrops to depict the melancholic locales, with some clever FMV insets for motion, and 3D models layered on top only for the sparse few characters. It's all in service of building Sokal's imaginative world, a world of faded glory populated by eccentrics, all touched by Hans Voralberg, the object of Walker's quest. Her mundane task of finalising a contract for the sale of a factory transforming into an unexpected steampunk adventure is ripe for drama, although the game doesn't capitalise on it as well as it could have.

Kate's personal journey is supposed to be along the lines of a buttoned-up lawyer being challenged to embrace the passions of life, but this only vaguely bubbles along in the background so she just ends up coming off as rather bland. Occasional phone calls home are meant to flesh out her arc, but they only served to make me annoyed at her shouty boss, shallow friend, overbearing mother, and worst of all her nagging, whiny fiancé. On the other hand, Kate's companion on her trip is the clockwork automaton Oscar, a standout character who mechanically exhibits a soulful blend of fussy and sassy.

But the story really revolves around Hans, the savant syndrome genius inventor. His influence is felt at each of the stops in your journey, where you talk with those whose lives he has touched, and try to tinker with the mechanical marvels he left behind. His intricate clockwork creations have been integrated in the sleepy French village of Valadilene, the majestic Barrockstadt university, the ex-Soviet industrial wasteland of Komkolzgrad, and the Eastern European hotel at Aralbad. Truly the locations are the star of the game, each seemingly stuck in a bubble of the past, the rich detail making them feel real even through an aura of the surreal.

These places do get let down somewhat by often muted colour palettes, although arguably that ties into the theme of decline that permeates each. A bigger issue is the awkwardness of navigating them, with sometimes unclear traversal options, not to mention the pause between each flip screen as the next one loads. Sometimes the direction you're facing is completely inverted as you move between screens, such that your continued move input turns you around and may even move you straight back. I suppose this is a problem unique to joypad controls... Kate also gets around very slowly (even with the run button), and goes through laborious animations to line herself up with interactables, so the pace of gameplay can feel plodding.

Broader pacing issues are present to varying degrees. The first two chapters in particular have quite drawn-out and convoluted sequences of puzzles and fetch quests. It never gets as challenging as Myst or obtuse as Starship Titanic (two other adventure games I've played with a similar sense of style and prerendered graphics), so I never struggled too much but an occasional nudge from a guide was needed when I failed to see eye to eye with the designers. Dialogue scenes also slow things down with overly wordy prose that you have to comb relevant details out of.

So there's some flaws, but my biggest issue was with the scope of the game. It just doesn't tell a complete story, ending rather abruptly as Kate meets Hans in a location you've already been to. It feels like the decision to split the story up into two games left this one without a satisfying conclusion. Hans' (and the game's) mammoth fixation and the driving motivation to get to Syberia are utterly unpaid-off; Oscar doesn't even get to meet his creator before the game ends, despite that being brought up numerous times! It's simply half a game, and from what I've read the sequel has its own problems with failing to make Kate a compelling protagonist after completing what passes for her character arc, among other things.

But you know, no game is perfect. I still think there's a lot to love in Syberia. The atmosphere is thick and there's always striking visual design waiting around the next corner. Every location feels distinct and fascinating, and each has memorable characters and setpieces. It brings up some interesting ideas, even if it doesn't quite grapple with them as much as I wanted it to. If anything it makes me curious about Sokal's comics, although from a quick look I'm not sure any of them have been published in English! Sacre bleu!

[ireneworth]

Frank Marcus's Notes On His Love Affair

By Frank Marcus

Plays & Players Magazine, July 1972

THE WRITING OF IT WAS THE EASIEST PART. I took as my text Robert Frost's 'You don't take notes during a love affair', amplified in Dora's opening speech with a quote from V S Pritchett's auto-biography. Cyril Connolly's words (on Thomas Mann) would have served equally well: '... one must be content to remain an observer of life and of one's own life, often deprived of the experiences which render more rounded and full those of other human beings.'

The tragi-comical predicaments of a writer's life (any writer's life), not untinged perhaps with a degree of self-disgust, were naturally close to me, and the creative pot was kept effortlessly on the due us is dices lie weeks it look to write the plastlessly end product—as is often the case with me was inordinately long but all of it seemed to me essential.

The character of Dora I modelled closely on the artistic persona of the great Swiss actress Maria Becker, and I hoped I might lure her to London. Hence the original Dora was given a German origin and there was a flashback scene, just before her final destructive rage, which showed Jim rescuing her from the post war holocaust, with both of them embodying a spirit of vouth, passion, and untainted love. In Ronald Bryden's opinion. the fact of my own German origin gave these scenes a deeper and integral significance.

As is my usual practice, the completed script was shown first to a varied kind of panel of readers (friends, but by no means sychophants) and their reactions were overwhelmingly favourable.

Not so the managements. The play's length, added to my wish to import an actress totally unknown in England, brought a sheaf of rejections. My stated willingness to make cuts, preferably in cooperation with the director, made little difference. The script gathered dust, and was shown occasionally to friends in the theatre. As these included actresses, I made the mistake of forgetting that they would assume I was offering them a part in the play. I shall not make that particular mistake again.

At this time—roughly a year ago—the impresario Marvin Liebman made some tentative moves to bring the immensely successful revival of my earlier play, The Formation Dancers, given at the Hampstead Theatre Club, to the West End. When these plans collapsed, he read my new play, liked it, and showed it to Robin Phillips. Robin reacted positively, and for the first time the project showed signs of getting off the ground.

The organisation of the German theatre, which compels actors to plan as long as two years ahead (and in the process turns them into civil servants), ruled out Maria Becker. To my mind, the only English actress with the necessary quality for Dora was Irene Worth.

Irene had just returned after a year with Peter Brook's experimental company in Paris and Persia. I handed her the script with trembling hands in the foyer of the Cambridge on the first night of West of Suez and watched her with horror starting to read it, sitting alone in the auditorium during the interval. I should add that, by now, I had cut more than 500 lines of dialogue from the play and reduced it to manageable proportions.

She studied the text with enormous care—in fact, she took herself off to Aldeburgh for a week to do so. She returned with six pages of notes, and I can honestly say that they were among the most stimulating, challenging, and intelligent comments any play of mine has received.

I assented to nearly all her suggestions for alterations. The only point of contention concerned the status of Dora as a writer. I had meant her to be a competent but run-of-the-mill novelist; I didn't want her to have the alibi of genius. It's easy (posthumously) to forgive the outrageous behaviour of a Strindberg or a Rimbaud, and Ibsen, Tolstoy, and Joyce—among many others—regarded their lives with icy disillusion. Irene wanted to use Dora to convey some of her own thoughts and emotions. With a star of that magnitude you don't argue, you comply. I rewrote totally the opening cadenza and tried to accommodate Irene's wishes as best I could. The original Dora was imprisoned in her room and addressed an imaginary audience: Irene stretched out her hands.

The rest followed smoothly. Nigel Davenport was Irene's first choice for Jim: we all concurred and were delighted when he accepted. Contrary to speculation, Jennie was not written for Julia Foster. I had written a play for her, shortly after she appeared in my first television play in 1966. It was called Studies of the Nude, produced at Hampstead, but Julia—alas—was held up on a film and could not play in it. I shall never cease to regret it. Ever since, I have been acting as her career adviser (unpaid). I implored her to go after Lulu and thought that Jennie in Notes, who is the exact opposite of the theatre's greatest sex symbol, might enable her to demonstrate her versatility as an actress.

As is my custom, I stayed away from the early rehearsals. When I rejoined them, I was struck by Robin's brilliant and unorthodox methods, but sensed that the tremendous rapport between him and Irene, which had proved so successful with the RCS's Tiny Alice, was somehow lacking. Marvin Liebman, as ever the epitome of kindness and generosity, hovered in the background, giving us total artistic freedom. Dora, by the way, had by now become English and the flashback scene, while retaining some of its intensity, had been transposed to a house near an airfield during the Battle of Britain. We tried it during our first week out-of-town in Southsea, but decided to cut it. as it came too late and seemed redundant.

Our second (and final) try-out week was in Brighton: a notoriously unreliable venue for a new play. We were triumphant. By the end of the week performances were sold out; the actors were cheered; the press was wonderful. The resident theatrical contingent turned out in force and were most complimentary. I was particularly pleased by a personal letter from T C Worsley: until his retirement a few years ago one of the most respected theatre critics in London. He wrote: 'Just a line to tell you how much I both enjoyed and admired your play on Saturday. It has great ingenuity, great elegance of form, and much human feeling. And how delightful for once to see a play that is really written and neatly constructed. I don't see how it can fail to be a great success: it certainly deserves to be.'

After the first night in Brighton, we were offered the Globe, and we returned to London confident, if not euphoric.

The two preview performances were also encouraging. I should like to believe that it was not accidental that the three critics who attended a preview as well as the opening night responded to the play with enthusiasm.

On the first night, I sat in a box, well hidden behind a curtain. The audience looked fashionable, a trifle elderly, with a sprinkling of ageing film stars. That curious and (I had hoped) defunct phenomenon, a West End audience, had descended on my play, hoping to see—I should guess—an amusing Shaftesbury Avenue comedy. Neil Simon would have served them excellently.

I knew within seconds that the play was misfiring. I'm not searching for alibis, but this audience refused to 'meet' the play. They sat back, elegantly attired, daring the actors to entertain them. The evening was not a calamity, but it was equally clearly not a smash hit.

In the circumstances, the notices were better than expected. The critics were split clean down the middle; there was praise as well as stricture. I was saddened only by Irving Wardle, who failed totally to connect with the play, mistook parody for imitation (Anouilh), and credited the deliberate clichés to me instead of to the characters who uttered them (ditto Jim's lame attempts at epigrams).

The experience certainly put paid to the myth that dog doesn't eat dog. There were examples of venom, a gleeful desire to insert the knife where it hurts and, in one case, near-libellous innuendo. As a practising theatre critic, I can't say that I was surprised.

Irene Worth bore the brunt of the attack. Her fortitude and kindness to her fellow actors increased my huge admiration for her. But, far more significantly, she proceeded to develop her performance, turning each occasion into a 'happening'. With Irene Worth in the cast, no play could be less than vibrantly alive. I'm glad to say that it didn't take long before she received the praise that she deserved.

As for myself, I have once again been privileged to see my fantasy embodied on the stage. I can proceed now to new fan-tasies. Irrespective of applause or abuse, there is only one road open to me. It leads back to the typewriter.

[makeste]

What are your favorite hero names?

oh man there are so many. I had to limit myself to a top twenty, and even that was rough. anyway so first off, a few runner ups because I couldn’t go without mentioning these:

Vlad King - to be clear, this isn’t actually one of my top hero names. but I’m mentioning it here because back when I was first reading the series, one of the fan scanlations -- either Fallen Angels or Mangastream, I forget which -- had originally translated his hero name as Brad King. which, to be frank, would have been one of the greatest hero names of ALL TIME. you can’t imagine my disappointment when I finally learned the truth. it still haunts me to this day.

Jack Mantis - this is Kamakiri (a.k.a. the guy from class 1-B who can grow knives out of his body)’s hero name. my question is, why the Jack. the mantis part, I get! that’s fairly obvious! but the “Jack” is forever a mystery to me. it just adds this little layer of intrigue.

Mr. Brave - this guy is one of the few good things to come from the Basement arc. don’t get me wrong, he is completely useless. but his name? absolutely legendary. this guy, with his power of ripping his own hair out and turning it into a sword (yes that’s his quirk), an ability that could be easily duplicated or bested by literally any jackass who just went out and bought their own damn sword, really thought to himself, “I am going to be the BEST MCFUCKING HERO THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN. I AM GOING TO NAME MYSELF... MISTER BRAVE.” and they let him, you guys. they let him.

anyway so now for the top twenty!

20. Can’t Stop Twinkling - this isn’t a name so much as it is poetry in three words. I still cannot believe that Aoyama went up to Midnight with a hero name that sounds more like the world’s greatest Dear Abby letter, and she actually let him keep it. I’m not 100% clear on how this all works, but I like to think this means that Aoyama’s fellow heroes have an actual legal obligation to call him this in battle. I don’t think we as a fandom and as a people really take enough time out of our lives to stop and be grateful for Aoyama’s existence.

19. Uravity - it’s a pun!! it’s so cute and I love it!! and it’s such a perfect name in that it just instantly sums up and defines her whole brand, bringing to mind both Ochako the person and Zero Gravity the quirk. honestly she is one of only a few kids whose hero name I never space out on. with a lot of the others I usually have to pause for a sec and be like “wait, what was their name again?” but never Ochako.

18. Present Mic - this would make a really great band name honestly. I just like it. I’m pretty sure Horikoshi was going for “present” as in the verb meaning “to perform”, like in “presentation”, but to tell the truth I always pronounce it like “present” as in “gift” or “the present time”, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but IT’S JUST WHAT MY BRAIN DECIDED TO DO. anyway.

17. Tsukuyomi - I know this name has its origins in Japanese mythology, but to be completely honest I’ve always just associated it with Itachi’s infamous genjutsu attack from Naruto. I just think it’s the gothest thing ever and absolutely perfect for Tokoyami lol.

16. All Might - there’s just something about this name that kind of makes me just want to pump my fists and go “YEAH!!” I really like the use of “might” as a noun rather than “mighty” as an adjective like you see in so many classic superhero names. it’s just so much cooler somehow. this name really does conjure up the image of the strongest guy in the universe.

15. Midnight - honestly I’m almost mad that this wound up being a hero name, because it would have made a perfect villain name. it’s dark and mysterious and sexy. it’s no wonder why Midnight chose it lol. anyway so my girl is a bit kinky, nothing wrong with that, and it’s also a perfect name for someone whose quirk puts other people to sleep. it’s just such spot-on branding, I love it.

14. Ingenium - fun fact, I had no idea what this meant when I first came across it because I don’t speak Latin! apparently it means “genius” or “talent.” which is a very good meaning for a hero name! but honestly the real reason I love it so much is because it’s Iida’s tribute to his brother, and I am just such a sucker for that kind of shit. damn you Iida siblings. quit giving me all these feels.

13. Shouto – yes, seriously. I know a lot of people hate this name, and it’s always getting flak for being bland and uncreative. but I honestly think it’s a perfect name for Shouto. firstly because Shouto himself is very much the opposite of flashy in a lot of ways. he’s not particularly animated or attention-seeking; he is a very calm, sort of still-waters-run-deep person, and I think the lack of a snappy brand name fits that personality. I’m even more delighted that it hasn’t remotely curbed his popularity at all (at this point I think the only kid hero with more in-universe fans out there is Momo, and even then it’s probably a close thing), and I think a big part of that is that people are drawn to his unpretentious nature, especially in comparison to a lot of the other heroes out there. but most of all, I like the name because of the simple yet powerful way it serves as a declaration that he is his own person. he’s not his father, and he’s more than just a Todoroki. he is himself; he is Shouto. anyway so yeah, to me this is a fantastic name with so much depth and meaning.

12. Battle Fist - this is Kendou’s hero name AND IT’S PERFECT. like, holy shit. what should we call the girl who goes around punching bad guys around all day with her giant hands. how about BATTLE FIST. there really isn’t much more to say about this one, honestly. its greatness speaks for itself.

11. Vantablack - imagine being such an enormous douchebag that word of your douchey exploits made it all the way over to some guy in Japan who spends 95% of his waking hours writing a manga and has almost no free time. fun fact, although Anish Kapoor is the only one licensed to use the color Vantablack, the name Vantablack is still owned by Surrey NanoSystems (a.k.a. the guys who actually invented it), and so I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who decide whether or not someone else gets to use it. I wonder if Kapoor is pissed about his color being referenced in a popular shounen manga. anyways, all of that speculation aside, it really is the perfect name for someone with Kuroiro’s quirk.

10. Endeavor - look, say what you will about Endeavor the person (although I’m personally a big fan of the way his redemption arc is being done and think he’s a fascinating character, albeit a very flawed one), but there’s no denying that Endeavor is a badass name. but what’s really great about it is how it so perfectly captures the admirable part of Endeavor, the one thing about him that’s actually worth praising. he never gives up. he’s always pushing, striving, struggling forward no matter how hopeless it seems. and that’s a worthy trait, and it says something about him that this is what he chose for his hero name. a name that has nothing to do with fire, nothing to do with his quirk, nothing even to do with his goal of becoming #1. it’s simply a name that means to make an effort; to try and achieve something. and I like that.

9. Sugarman - this IMO is easily the most overlooked and severely underrated hero name in the series. it’s a hidden gem. everyone always forgets about Satou just because his power of being a Strong Punching Guy doesn’t particularly stand out in a manga chock full of strong punching guys. but he is a badass and a great character, and honestly “eating candy makes me super strong” is possibly the single greatest quirk in the history of time and I am jealous. anyway, so this is a really straightforward name, but it’s really smooth and catchy somehow and so it’s one of my favorites.

8. Gale Force - this is Inasa’s hero name! it’s another one which is criminally underrated, much like Inasa himself. airbender powers are just so badass you guys. wind is so badass. this name is all hurricaney and tempesty and super cool and powerful-sounding. this is one of those names that I’m honestly surprised wasn’t already a mainstream superhero name. Marvel was all “nah, we’ll just go with ‘Storm’”, like come on you guys where is the creativity.

7. Red Riot - this name is a fucking grand slam. it’s alliterative! it’s catchy! it’s got the word “riot” in it! it’s an absolutely perfect name for a passionate guy whose quirk lends itself towards good old fashioned brawlin’ and head bashing. the fact that it’s got additional meaning as a tribute towards Kiri’s own personal hero is just the icing on the cake. this is another name that Marvel probably legit wishes they had thought of first. it’s easily the best hero name out of everyone in class 1-A imo.

6. Sir Nighteye - hilariously for the longest time it was not confirmed whether or not Nighteye actually had a real name (he does! but I’ve forgotten it lol), and so there was this lingering question, absurd as it was, of whether or not Nighteye’s parents, whoever they are, were descendants of some proud Nighteye clan, and whether they had really, actually named their child “Sir.” anyways though, I love this name. it’s super cool and mysterious and perfect for someone with future-seeing powers, and the “Sir” just makes even awesomer because it implies that the Queen really liked him or something.

5. Mt. Lady - this name is a stroke of genius. supersize-me powers are a dime a dozen, but the characters always have names like Giant Man or Giganta or Goliath. as far as I know, no other superhero characters have ever thought to name themselves after mountains, let alone to name themselves as if they WERE a mountain. like, she isn’t “mountain lady”; she’s “MOUNT Lady”, as if she were an actual tectonic peak. it really bothers me that I can’t adequately describe in words why I love this so much. I just do!! I think she should get an award.

4. Suneater - Tamaki is out here proving to everyone that your hero name doesn’t need to have jack shit fuckall to do with your actual quirk in order to be completely badass and iconic. sometimes I wonder what Tamaki does when people ask him “out of curiosity, why did you pick that name?”, which someone surely must have done at some point. he probably turns beet red and tries to dissolve into the background. but anyway, the general public does not need to know the meaning of his hero name in order for it to have meaning; we know what the meaning is, and that it’s his way of saying “I believe in myself because my friend believes in me”, and honestly that’s all that matters. I am still of the opinion that certain other people whose childhood friends held a lot of unwavering belief in and admiration towards them could do worse than going down this same hero name route, but we will see! anyways Suneater deserves all your respect.

3. Best Jeanist - I had so much love for this name from the start, and then I found out it was a real, actual award. for people who make good jeans, or are good at wearing jeans, or something. it’s run by the Japan Jeans Council, which is also a real and actual thing. but anyway, despite it not being as wholly original of a name as I thought, it’s still iconic, and I love that he went with something that was recognizable while still fitting his quirk, and which has the added implication that he is the motherfucking best, because he is. also, given that he probably chose this name while he was still in school, and that only public figures generally seem to be eligible for the award, this implies that he chose the name Best Jeanist first, and then went on to win the actual award eight years running. presumably because the JJC got very flustered and were all, “IT’S LITERALLY HIS NAME... WE HAVE TO GIVE IT TO HIM... WE HAVE TO”, and so they did. anyway so that was a goddamn power move on his part.

2. Gang Orca - first of all, if you are an orca man, then naming yourself after orcas is a pretty apt thing to do and I have to respect that. but then along comes the “gang” part, out of absolutely NOWHERE, and it absolutely SMASHES. like, this name comes up to you and it slaps you in the face. GANG ORCA. HE’S A BIG AGGRESSIVE DOLPHIN MAN AND HE’S NOT HERE TO FUCK AROUND. IS HE ACTUALLY IN A GANG?? WE DON’T KNOW. BUT HERE HE IS, READY TO YEET YOUR DELINQUENTS AND HUNT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING SEALS. this name fucks so hard it came within inches of the number one spot. he is a ruffian and a champ.

1. Eraserhead - last but not least, the guy who DIDN’T EVEN PICK HIS OWN NAME. his best friend had to do it for him, and out of love, came up with the SINGLE BEST HERO ALIAS IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND. first of all, this name sounds like a very funky and electronicy Thom Yorke song. second, it conjures up the image of a man with a big no. 2 pencil head, which could not possibly be further from the truth. it’s just so whiplashy in the best way possible. third, the very existence of this name is seriously a goddamn miracle. he could have been “Power-Stopping Man.” or “Sleeping Bag Man.” or “Scruffy Hero: Tired Man.” or just “Shouta”, but unlike Shouto there wouldn’t have been any actual meaning to it; it would have simply been a case of him not giving the slightest of fucks about coming up with a real name. but rather than any of these, thanks to the power of friendship we were blessed with the greatest hero name in recorded memory. this is one of the few kindnesses fate has ever bestowed upon Aizawa Shouta in his tragic, exhausting life, and I for one am eternally grateful.

anyway so that’s my list! sorry if I left out anyone’s favorites! but I think all of these are deserving of love. also if you want to see the single best thing Japan has ever come up with, please go visit best-jeans.com. they even have an instagram lulz.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 18: Summers In Florence] [Series Finale]

A/N: If it doesn’t end with a wedding, is it even my fic??! 😂 For those who somehow haven’t yet read Baby You Were My Picket Fence (my most popular series), you might be a tiny bit confused during this chapter. Just roll with it. 😉 Also, COVID-19 doesn’t exist. What a wonderful world. Thank you so much for sticking with me and BYCNL. I love you all. 💜

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @allauraleigh​ ​@deakydeacy @bluutac​ @johndeaconshands​ @nyxaura​

It’s May 25th, 1984, and Roger and John are in Perth, Australia to promote Queen’s eleventh album, The Works.

Interviewer, daytime television host Ronald Inglewood: “Good morning and welcome to our viewers across Australia! We’re sitting down this morning with Roger Taylor and John Deacon, respectively the drummer and bassist of Queen, who are here to talk about the band’s brand new album called—quite self-assuredly, if I may say so, gentlemen—The Works. Hello to you both.”

Roger: “Good morning, Ron!”

John: “Hello.”

Interviewer: “And this latest album has been rather well-received so far, is that right?”

Roger: “It has, yes, and we’re enormously proud of it.”

Interviewer: “Now, The Works is a very different album than Hot Space, Queen’s sort of notorious foray into disco...do you think the back-to-basics, classic rock and roll feel of The Works has been the driving force behind its success?”

Roger: “Well, you know...I think experimentation is very important. We’ve always been an experimental band. The single Bohemian Rhapsody was hugely experimental, and that’s why it was such a phenomenon. We were experimenting long before A Night At The Opera, and I suspect we’ll keep on trying new things until we run out of ideas, whenever that is! I didn’t love every song on Hot Space, I’ll be completely transparent about that, but I certainly don’t think the album was a failure or a waste of time. It was an experiment. And The Works is an experiment as well, just one that runs in a different vein, I suppose.”

John: “Some people did actually enjoy Hot Space.”

Roger: “I think I know one or two.”

Interviewer: “Of course, it did have its bright spots. Under Pressure remains one of Queen’s biggest hits, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Yes, and John wrote the bassline for that one!”

Interviewer: “Really?!”

John: “And Roger has his own hit on The Works, at last. We’re all very happy for him.”

Roger: “Only took ten years.”

John: “Fourteen, actually.”

Roger: “I’m going to murder you as soon as we get backstage.”

John: “You’re welcome to try.”

Interviewer: “Now this hit of yours, Roger, is Radio Ga Ga. And I’m sure we’ve all seen the famous music video, the hovercraft, the futurism, the clapping...we’ve all seen it, right? Where on earth did you get the idea for that song?”

Roger: “It actually originated from something I heard my daughter Violet say.”

Interviewer: “Fascinating! And you’ve just welcomed another one recently, haven’t you?”

Roger: “Yes, last month, in fact. A little girl named Nora. “

Interviewer: “Congratulations!”

Roger: “Thanks so much, Ron. Our eldest, Violet, turned two in January, and the idea for Radio Ga Ga came about when she was first learning to talk. She would always stumble around—you know how babies do—clapping her hands and squealing the most nonsensical things, and one day she started trying out ‘radio’ and then adding random words to it, ‘radio goo goo,’ ‘radio mama,’ ‘radio dada,’ etcetera. Well ‘radio ga ga’ got stuck in my head and I started sort of lamenting how television had begun to eclipse the radio as a medium for music and entertainment. We were on vacation in California at the time, and I locked myself in a hotel room with a keyboard and a drum machine to get it written. I initially thought it might end up on one of my solo albums, but then John heard it and wrote a bassline, and Freddie really thought it could be a hit and pushed to have it on The Works...and here we are today!”

Interviewer: “That Freddie Mercury has awfully good instincts about these things, doesn’t he?”

John: “Oh, he’s a genius, no doubt about that.”

Interviewer: “And John, I understand you wrote the other single released from The Works, I Want To Break Free. Any deep philosophical messaging in that one?”  

John: “Well I suppose we’ve all been in situations that feel...rather constraining or hopeless. And then things that bring us back to life again. So this song is about a character going through that process and coming out on the other side.”

Interviewer: “Indeed.”

John: “But we wanted to keep things amusing and lighthearted in the music video, hence the dressing in drag bit. And to our absolute horror, Roger was very alluring as a schoolgirl.”

Roger: “It’s true. I have irresistible legs. I was born to wear miniskirts.”

Interviewer: “Ah, this is the music video that is beloved in Europe and here in Australia but has stirred up so much controversy over in the States. Has the hullabaloo dampened your enthusiasm for the song, or even the entire album, somewhat?”

Roger: “We’re not bothered much at all, to be honest with you. It’s like I said, Queen is always going to have fun and experiment and take creative risks. And if people don’t like it, then they’re welcome to not listen.”

Interviewer: “Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Roger: “Americans, you know, they can just be so bloody puritanical. It absolutely takes all the enjoyment out of life. All the humor. Americans these days can be very difficult for us to connect with.”

John: “Well, not all of them.”

Roger: “No, of course, not all of them.”

John: “But we’ll start touring at the end of August, and we’ll be spending several months in the States, so they have time to come around to us. We’re all really looking forward to being on the road again.”

Interviewer: “It has certainly been and will continue to be a very eventful year for Queen. And for the four of you personally. A new baby for Roger, and you’ve just gotten married, haven’t you John?”

John: “I did, yes. And Roger was in attendance! No miniskirt that day, though. Sadly.”

Roger: “The whole band was there. And my girlfriend and children too. It was quite a party.”

Interviewer: “That’s wonderful to hear, considering the...the...well, not to bring up tabloid gossip, but the complexity of the situation. It was a destination wedding, wasn’t it?”

John: “Yes, we were married in the Basilica di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy. It’s breathtaking, the largest Franciscan church in the world, built in the 1300s. And we filled it with friends and family and live music and flowers and food...all the trappings. Took about a million photos. Celebrated until dawn.”

Roger: “It was a very sentimental occasion. Everyone really enjoyed it. John cried.”

John: “I did, it’s true.”

Roger: “He promised he wouldn’t and then he did.”

John: “Well, you don’t have to bring it up all the time!”

Roger: “It was touching, really.”

Interviewer: “It must have been a magical time. You’re positively radiant, John! Marvelous. And some much-needed good news, I imagine. I understand you’ve recently gone through an exceptionally antagonistic and protracted divorce.”

John: “Well...uh...I suppose that’s...uh...”

Roger: “How about we ask you the same thing? How was your divorce, Ron?”

Interviewer: “What?”

Roger: “You’re on your third marriage, is that right? And I think I heard that the latest Mrs. Inglewood is very young indeed, almost thirty years your junior. How did your former wife take that news? How did your adult children? How was your goddamn divorce?”

Interviewer: “That’s a rude question.”

Roger: “Yes, you’re right, it’s an extremely rude question. So you shouldn’t fucking ask it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 25th, 1986, and the children are tearing open presents under a fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree in the living room of Garden Lodge.

Freddie and Jim Hutton are serving cookies and milk and clapping their hands as they tower over tiny shoulders, cheering the kids on as they litter the floor with wrapping paper and bows and scatter their new toys everywhere: Care Bears, Magic 8 Balls, My Little Ponies, Mr. Potato Heads, Barbies, Etch-A-Sketches, Transformers, miniature Lukes and Leias and Chewbaccas, View-Masters with scenes of oceans and deserts and forests and stars. With so many fragmented families, there was only one logical approach to handling major holidays: convincing everyone to celebrate together on neutral ground.

Mary and Veronica are chatting by the roaring fireplace. Phoebe, Joe Fanelli, John, and Roger are embroiled in a brutally competitive Scrabble game; Dominique, smirking stealthily, leans over Roger to read his tiles and periodically whispers ideas to him. Brian and Anita are circling the flock of giggling children—Laszlo, Anna, Teddy, Evelyn, Lena, Antoni, Violet, and Nora—and snapping photos with your Canon between long, yearning gazes at one another, wearing matching Christmas sweaters that are a deep, passionate crimson. Chrissie’s husband Denny is admiring Freddie’s extensive vinyl record collection as he sips a hot chocolate and compulsively strokes his green-and-red striped tie. Tiffany the cat rolls around between his feet and occasionally hisses or gnaws on an ankle, which Denny takes in stride, as he does most things.

Meanwhile, you and Chrissie are camped out by the wet bar, drinking mulled wine and nibbling on cookies shaped like snowmen and reindeer. You give Veronica a wide berth with the children anytime you’re in the same space; she hates you, and she’ll probably always hate you, but she loves her children too much to poison them with that reality. Their happiness is her whole life, her purpose. And that’s the only thing that finally convinced her to come to the bargaining table.

“She seems...nice,” you tell Chrissie, gesturing to where Anita is crouching to wrestle a Yoda piggy bank away from Antoni before he can lob Teddy on the head with it. To John’s children, Veronica is “mum” and you’re the distinctly more American “mama”; and no one ever really taught them that, they just started doing it somewhere along the way.

Chrissie rolls her eyes and shifts Stevie to her other hip. For two and a half years after leaving Brian, Chrissie made it her mission to date at least one man from every country in Europe. She managed to cross off Ireland, France, Germany, Austria, Italy, Sweden, Switzerland, Portugal, Poland, and Greece before meeting professional archer Dennis Clarke at the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. They got engaged at Christmas, eloped on New Year’s Day, and had a daughter that Chrissie named after Stevie Nicks nine months later. Stevie Clarke has adorably chubby baby legs, wide blue eyes, and blonde hair without a single spiraled ringlet.

“My therapist said I needed to cultivate a rapport with Brian for the good of the kids,” Chrissie says. “You know. Be the bigger person. Get amnesia and forget about how he made my life a living hell. Act like I don’t want to freaking decapitate him. So I, trying to be nice, trying to rise above and make polite small talk with my nauseating ex-husband, made a comment about how much I liked EastEnders. So he starts watching EastEnders. Then he begins to fancy one of the actresses. Then he meets her at a movie premier in Beverly Hills and invites her to the concert at Wembley. Then he ends up in love with the woman. What the fuck. You couldn’t write this shit.”

“Love is a roulette wheel,” you agree.

Chrissie scoffs sardonically. “Yeah. Russian roulette, maybe.”

After his marriage fell apart, Brian bounced between New Orleans and London, liberated bliss and aimless, disgraced, black depression. Whoever Peaches is as a person, she couldn’t tame Brian’s demons. You worried about him almost constantly until he started seeing Anita. She’s cheerful and magnetic and persistently hopeful in a way that reminds you of Roger. She’s good for Brian. She’s good for all of you. Well...Chrissie is still coming around to the idea.

“I do like that she wasn’t fucking my husband behind my back,” Chrissie muses. “So that’s something.”

“And she’s good with the kids.”

“True...”

“And her hair matches Brian’s.”

Chrissie laughs. Her sparkling ornament earrings jangle, and Stevie paws for them with minuscule, uncoordinated, wrinkly hands. “Okay. You win. I don’t despise her.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit.” You knock back the rest of your mulled wine. “I’m gonna go search the refrigerator for cheese cubes, you want anything?”

“Yeah, a Valium.”

“Slavic Jesus would be horrified. And on his birthday!”

Chrissie grins. “Surely drugs would be the least of our sins.”

Freddie’s sunshine-yellow refrigerator is enormous and a labyrinth of shelves and crevices without a single tray of cheese cubes in sight. You sift through jars of olives, bottles of champagne, a glazed ham waiting to be put in the oven, a sack of yams, eggnog, rising bread dough, and numerous pies—apple and cherry and lemon chiffon, naturally—swathed in aluminum foil.

“Damn,” you mutter, and then you try a mysterious drawer beneath the double doors of the refrigerator. Lo and behold, it contains a sprawling tray of cheeses. “Yaaaaassssss.” You lift the tray out, set it on the kitchen counter, and peel back the clear, clinging saran wrap. As you spear cheese cubes with a decorative toothpick—the handle is a little plastic Christmas tree—and plop them onto an appetizer plate, you hear the click of heels on the hardwood floor behind you.

You glance back. “Hi, Dom. Can I offer you any of Fred’s extremely expensive and exotic cheeses?”

“Sure,” she replies in that effortlessly elegant French accent; but that’s not why she’s here. She’s wringing her delicate hands, which are bronzed from her last holiday to Ibiza and ringless. Dom divorced the husband she had back in France—or maybe he divorced her, who knows, that’s not your business, although Roger would tell you if you ever asked—and she and Roger signed papers for the good of their daughters. But being Roger Taylor’s wife is not always such an easy thing.

“He’s getting bad again, isn’t he?” you ask softly.

Dominique nods; but you already knew.

Roger was perfect for years after they had Violet: attentive, content, startlingly domestic. He rarely popped pills. He went to physical therapy. He quit smoking six months ago at Dominique’s insistence, around the same time John quit for you. But since the Magic Tour ended in August—and with no new tour in sight, considering Freddie’s seeming reticence about scheduling another—he’s started to drink more, stay home less, disappear at night citing dinners or parties or recording sessions that Dom isn’t invited to. He’s edgy and irritable. He’s rarely home when John calls. And you can see all those immortal shadows of imperfection creeping back into him like storm clouds, like smoke.

“I’m going to tell you something,” you say. “It’s very similar to what somebody else once told me. I wasn’t ready to understand it yet, to really let myself feel it, to believe it, but you might be able to.”

She watches you with those vast oil-well eyes, biting her lower lip, waiting.

“Roger is wildfire. He’s bright, yes, he’s warm, but he’s reckless and insatiable too. He always has been. He always will be. And that has nothing at all to do with you. It’s not your fault. He’s wonderful, of course, and you already know that; he dazzles people, he makes life so exhilaratingly beautiful that you forget what it felt like without him. But he’ll always disappoint you. He’ll relapse, he’ll cheat, he’ll come home late, he won’t come home at all. And he’ll hurt you. He’ll do it as many times as you’ll let him. But here’s the thing other people won’t tell you.” You smile at her, with empathy, with sorrow, with hope. “It might still be worth it.”

Dominique blinks, not understanding.

“It might be enough for you to only ever have part of him, because that part is so incredibly brilliant. It was almost enough for me. And I would never blame you for leaving Roger. But I wouldn’t blame you for staying either.”

And then you embrace her, and she latches onto you, her long manicured nails nipping through your sweater, her Coco Chanel perfume a plume that fills the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. You hold her until she pulls away, swiping at her tearing eyes with slim fragile fingers, sniffling, looking away to hide her heartbreak behind her shock of glossy bangs.

“Here.” You pile an appetizer plate high with cheese cubes and shove it into her hands.

Stunned, she giggles. “All my woes have vanished.”

“That’s exactly how stolen cheese works,” And then, seriously: “Don’t be sad on Christmas, Dom. There’s plenty of time for that later. And I’ll do everything I can to help him.”

“That’s why you’ll never leave the band, isn’t it? You can’t leave Roger alone. You can’t let him destroy himself.”

“I owe him,” you say simply. “Without him I never would have followed Queen to London. I never would have found this family. I never would have married John. Roger took things from me, yes, of course he did. He took until I felt empty. But he also gave me the world.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully.

“Please, Dom. Go enjoy yourself.”

“Alright. Joyeux Noël.” She gives you a parting wave and slips back out into the living room, where Freddie is now playing the grand piano and signing Thank God It’s Christmas. Roger is assisting in an increasingly hoarse falsetto.

A moment after Dominique leaves, John strolls into the kitchen, humming merrily. He stops dead when he sees your somber face, your shining eyes. “Who do I have to fuck up?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No one. I just heard something sad.”

“Not about you, I hope.”

“No, I don’t have many sad stories anymore.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He reaches out to take your hand. A sapphire glints on your left ring finger, and it means everything.

“You sure you don’t need me to torment anyone for you? I could get drunk and plow my Benz into their house. Or write a scathing diss track about them. Was it Brian? Please tell me it was Brian.”

You laugh and twirl a lock of his fluffy hair. “That won’t be necessary.”

“In that case, you’re needed in the living room immediately,” John says, smiling. “Antoni climbed halfway up the Christmas tree and says he won’t come down for anyone except his mama.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s November 3rd, 1999, and Roger, John, and Brian are promoting Queen’s upcoming compilation album, Greatest Hits III.

Interviewer, daytime television host Brad Chenoweth: “Today we have a very special treat for our viewers. Here with us in our London studio are the men of Queen: guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon. Good morning, and thank you all so much for being here.”

Brian: “It’s our pleasure.”

Roger: “I do screams as well as drums, Brad.”

Interviewer: “Hahaha, yes, of course. Now Queen has had an extremely busy year, and this Greatest Hits album has a few new selections on it, right? Take us through that process.”

Brian: “It does have a few new tracks, that’s correct. You know, ever since Freddie...ever since we lost Freddie Mercury, I mean, you know, it’s impossible to fill a space like the one that he left in the world.”

Roger: “Yes, yes.”

Brian: “But as difficult as it was, after finally finishing Made In Heaven in 1995 and getting it just right, feeling as if we had really done Freddie justice...we were left with this distressing feeling of ‘what’s next?’ What are the three of us supposed to do with ourselves? Split up and never work together again? Retire to the seashore? Open up some corner store to putter around in until we die?”

Roger: “A clog shop, perhaps.”

Interviewer: “You were thinking, ‘well hell, we’ve got plenty of talent ourselves!’”

Roger: “Well, talent, yes, but also energy. Drive. We’ve been working at being one of the best bands in the world for almost thirty years now, Brad. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to stop.”

Brian: “None of us wanted to stop, we came to that realization. And so we’ve done a tremendous amount of benefit concerts and recording sessions with some of the best artists of our time, and I think people who listen to this album are really going to appreciate that. We’ve got a live version of Somebody to Love with George Michael, and The Show Must Go On with Elton John, he’s just lovely to work with...oh and a rap version of Another One Bites The Dust with Wyclef Jean, which John was not exactly a fan of. But we all have to learn to give and take, don’t we?”

Interviewer: “Absolutely, and I’m really looking forward to getting my hands on a copy of this record. Is there any chance Queen might settle on a permanent new front man one day?”

Roger: “If we can ever find somebody John likes enough!”

Interviewer: “But, truthfully...none of you wanted to quit after Freddie passed away? It was a unanimous decision to keep with it?”

Roger: “Essentially, yes. I mean I think it was an all or nothing deal, wasn’t it? If one of us left then that would throw the whole thing off. I was always adamant from very early on in the band’s lifetime that I wouldn’t be interested in continuing without John. And I couldn’t imagine him and Brian being left alone together, my god, there’d be literal bloodshed, someone’s throat would be cut within the hour, believe me.”

John: “We might have lasted a day or two. But yes, it was more or less unanimous.”

Interviewer: “Now you’ve always been known as the quiet, domestic one, John. You weren’t tempted by the thought of retirement? Not even for a moment?”

John: “Well...I think it depends on the circumstances, really. I like working, and I like touring and traveling a good part of the year. But I imagine I’d get very homesick if I was alone on the road. Fortunately, that’s not the case. So the thought of retirement didn’t appeal to me nearly as much as it might have otherwise.”

Interviewer: “That’s right, I understand that your wife has been Queen’s touring nurse for...how long now? Twenty years?”

John: “Since 1974, so that’s twenty-five years.”

Roger: “Wow. It’s been that long?!”

Brian: “Feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Interviewer: “How lucky for you, John. And look, you’re beaming!”

Roger: “Get it together, Deaks.”

John: “I’m an astronomically lucky man. It’s like having home with you anywhere in the world.”

Roger: “She’s good for curing hangovers as well, so that’s useful. And she knits everyone hats.”

Interviewer: “And you’ve got children, haven’t you John?’

John: “Four from my first marriage, yes. They’re all adults now so they come to visit us quite often, especially when we’re travelling. It worked out beautifully really, because they’re very close to their mother, of course, but my wife and I got together when they were all still fairly young, and so she’s always been there for them as they’ve grown up. My youngest especially was a rather...how would you say it diplomatically? A spirited child. But he warmed to her right away.”

Brian: “All the children are still friendly with each other as well, mine and Roger’s and John’s.”

Interviewer: “One big happy family, huh?”

Roger: “There are still a good amount of screaming matches between us dads, to be completely forthcoming.”

John: “You have to keep things interesting.”

Roger: “Exactly!”

Interviewer: “Yes, one can sense that there are still plenty of egos in this room, even after all these years! Tell me, Queen is nearly three decades old now, a worldwide phenomenon, the second-bestselling artist in the UK of all time behind the Beatles...how have you stayed together for so long when most bands last only a fraction of Queen’s lifespan?”

John: “Well I think we’ve all, you know, for the good of the band we’ve all had to grow towards each other to bridge the disagreements and keep peace. For example, I’ve had to learn to be more communicative, more open to collaboration and change. I can be someone who’s very comfortable being in the background. But then I’m resentful if people don’t see my point of view, even if I haven’t properly expressed it. So I have certainly had to work on that quite a lot.”

Brian: “Yes, John, I think that’s very true. Personally, I’ve had to learn to not get lost in the details so much. I have a bad habit of getting so fixated on something that I cause a massive row over a vanishingly small aspect of a song that no one else will ever notice. It’s just not worth the strife. So I’ve really tried to avoid that. Although, I’ll admit it, I still occasionally cause my share of drama.”

John: “Oh, sure.”

Roger: “And I’ve had to work on being less...”

John: “Annoying?”

Brian: “Combative?”

Roger: “Fiery.”

John: “That’s one word for it.”

Interviewer: “Was there ever a time when Queen’s existence was in serious jeopardy? And if so, how did you pull through?”

Brian: “Well, to be perfectly honest, as a band we went through quite a difficult time in the early 80s. And then we did again in the early 90s. And on both occasions there was a real worry that Queen might be over and we would all go our separate ways. But what kept us together through that...and feel free to disagree, Rog, John, if you have a different perspective...but what I feel kept us together was this profound sense of family. Queen predates all of our marriages, our children, our successes in the music industry or otherwise. It has become a constant place of belonging in the midst of professional and personal turmoil. And now our partners and children have been integrated into that network as well, so even if an individual relationship is strained or falls apart, the gravity of the band keeps us all in a perpetual symbiotic orbit. And I don’t see that ever ending.”

John: “Yes, well, I suppose that about sums it up, doesn’t it?”

Roger: “Bleeding christ, Brian. ‘Perpetual symbiotic orbit.’ Just say we’re friends, you pretentious twit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s August 19th, 2020, and John’s 69th birthday party is winding down as the sun dips lazily into the rust-colored western horizon.

You’re standing on the cobblestones in the garden behind the Surrey house. You had always thought it was too extravagant, too massive; it wasn’t until Roger sold it to you and John in the spring of 1982 that you realized it was the perfect size after all. Six bedrooms meant one for each of the children, one for you and John—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper and nautical decorations, to be exact—and the last for when Chrissie and Denny or Roger and Dom stay the night, which is fairly frequently. Your vacation home, where you and John spend most of the summer when Queen isn’t on tour, is a little country cottage in the sunlit Alpine hills of Florence, Italy. John designed it himself, every last detail; right down to the white picket fence grown over with ivy.

“Look what we got in the mail.” You hold up the invitation to show your husband, grinning, raising your eyebrows. “Guess we have to buy him another toaster.”

He reads the names on the shimmering cardstock patterned with jungle ferns and dinosaur footprints. Interesting choices. “Is Ben actually going through with it this time?”

“John!”

“Wasn’t he supposed to marry some Italian heiress or something?”

“Love can be complicated, Mr. Deacon,” you remind him.

When he smiles, crinkles spring up around his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it can be.”

“Ben Hardy’s having another wedding?” Chrissie calls over from where she’s shooting arrows at the archery targets set up in the backyard. Denny periodically steps in to correct the angle of her wrist or elbow. “And Queen’s invited this time?”

“Apparently,” you reply. “You could go too if you were still married to Brian.”

“Ha!” Chrissie cackles and looses an arrow. It hits damn near the bullseye. “Not worth it.”

“I’ll bring back all the scandalous gossip I can scrounge for you.”

“You better. What do the kids call it now? Spilling the tea? Spill all the tea, bitch.”

“Oh, kettles and kettles’ worth.”

“So a teapot,” John says. “Not another toaster. Maybe decorated with...” He squints at the invitation again. “What’s the theme? What do they like? Fossils? Brontosauruses?”

“Bizarre people,” Chrissie mutters.

“I’ll figure something out,” you say. “Something special. Something old.”

“John?” Brian shouts from the doorway that leads into the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator is covered with sketches and birthday cards and photographs curling and fading around the edges. “Anita and I are heading out now, can we get a hug goodbye?”

“Ugh,” John jokes. “Well, alright.” He gives you a wink as he trots off.

The Surrey house isn’t exactly roaring—John has never been one for crowds, and incidentally neither have you—but it is alive with his children and grandchildren and life-long friends. Not just his, you correct yourself. Ours.

Veronica—once Tetzlaff, then Deacon, then Tetzlaff again, and finally Kowalski—is not in attendance. You see her only at holidays and birthday celebrations for the kids and grandchildren, and even then only in passing. She is still cold towards you, resentful, extremely Catholic...although somewhat less dogmatic since her second husband Ivan, a former priest, left the Church to marry her. When the last of her children were grown, Veronica got certified to be a doula and now primarily serves unwed mothers seeking assistance from Catholic charities in London. She mentioned to Chrissie, who later told you, that something you had once done for her had inspired her to pursue it. That’s the only nice thing you’ve heard her say about you in almost forty years.

Roger wanders over to meet you, nursing a Heineken, stroking his white beard with his free hand. He and Dominique have always been off and on—including a few years in the late 80s when he moved out of their three-story Kensington townhouse and had a daughter called Adeline with some leggy, platinum blonde supermodel—but these days they’re mostly on. He and Dom had two children after their reconciliation: a son, Blaise, and a daughter named by Freddie after the Japanese word for tiger, Tora.

You gaze out into the sunset. Half of the garden is flooded with white calla lilies, a new bouquet for every February 15th since 1978.

“You’ll be sending back an RSVP in the affirmative?” Roger asks.

“Of course! Any excuse to visit the States. And I like Ben. Although he doesn’t look anything like you.”

He groans. “Those wigs, bloody hell.”

“It’s like they produced a whole movie just to have an excuse to make fun of your atrociously crunchy bleached hair.”

“And I bet you enjoyed that.”

“You deserved it.” When Freddie’s health began to fail and Queen stopped touring, you went back to school to get a degree in physical therapy. You and Roger have sessions three times a week, provided he’s on the wagon; and he usually is, nowadays. When he’s not, John’s the one to get the call from Dominique, and he hunts Roger down, convinces him to come home, works whatever quiet, soothing magic he carries around in his deep pacific blood. But right this moment, Roger is awfully quiet himself. His large, pale eyes—like clear water, like unraveling delphiniums, like the harmony that only comes when age burns away all those last entrenched talons of bitterness, of fear—skate over the calla lilies.

“Do you think things would have been different for us?” Roger asks softly. “If she had lived.”

It took you a long time to understand why Roger was in no hurry to get a divorce, to move you out of the Surrey house. They were the only ties he thought he had to anchor you to the band, to him. They were the only cards he thought he had to play to keep you in his life in any capacity. But John fixed that dilemma. He can fix just about anything, you’ve learned.

“No,” you tell Roger. “You would have worn me down eventually. You and your drinking and drugs and late nights and interminable recklessness. It might have taken longer, but we always would have ended. And John always would have been my home. She wouldn’t have kept us together. She just would have lived. And I wouldn’t have loved her for being a part of you. I would have loved her for whoever she was, whoever she grew up to be. But now I’ll never know who that would have been. I love the children I have, Roger, I do. But I still miss her, miss the person she would have been. It’s like chasing a shadow. It’s like a page of a book written in a language I can’t read. And it’s a feeling that never quite goes away.”

He smiles at you wearily, immensely sad, full of perfect understanding. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October 10th, 2020, and the reception is held under shedding autumn leaves the color of rubies and imperial topaz and amber and yellow jade. The exuberant bride and groom weave through the crowds milling about the quaint farm, which is nestled in the hills of a small town in Northern California called Zenia. It belongs to Gwilym, apparently, and he and his flame-haired girlfriend Shiloh are shuttling tirelessly this way and that making sure everything goes according to plan. They don’t speak much to Ben or his new wife directly—there’s a stiltedness there, an uncomfortable period of readjustment that reminds you of how John and Roger were for a while after all the secrets came out—but there is undeniable kinship as well. Love can be complicated, you find yourself thinking, for the innumerable time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.

Making the rounds with the bride and groom is a strikingly beautiful, dark-haired boy who wears a miniature suit and a perpetual, mischievous grin. The new Mrs. Hardy almost always has her hand on his shoulder, his back, wiping cake frosting from his cheeks, ruffling his hair.

“Eli is kind of a demon kid,” Joe Mazzello warns you. “But in the best possible way.”

“Hm. I have somewhat of an affinity for demons myself.”

“Clearly,” Roger quips, sipping pink champagne. The snack table is Halloween-themed and extremely casual: Cheetos and pumpkin pie and caramel apples and dinosaur-shaped brownies. Per usual, you’re grazing through an orange paper plate stacked high with enough nibbling material to keep any undesirable small talk at bay. But strangely, in all of the times you’ve crossed his path since Bohemian Rhapsody’s filming began, you’ve never minded chatting with Joe.

“Yeah, you two were married at some point, right?” Joe asks. Then he immediately blanches. “Oh my god. That was so rude. I did not just say that. I’m so sorry. I saw it on Wikipedia. I’m gonna go drown myself in the stream now.”

“No, you’re right!” you admit in a peal of laughter. “Briefly and disastrously.”

“It wasn’t that disastrous,” Roger protests, thieving a Cheeto off your plate. He misplaced his prescription sunglasses on the flight over and is thus relatively helpless.

“Rude. Get your own. They’re over on the other end of the table.”

“I can’t see that far—!”

“Dom?” you call as she sashays over in a flowing white dress and licking a stick of orange rock candy. “Please control your husband.”

She smiles. “If I haven’t managed it yet, I don’t think there’s much hope.” She nods to Joe. “It’s so nice to see you again. Meeting you people was the only bright spot of that whole movie ordeal.”

“What, you didn’t fancy it?” Roger jests.

“At least they included you,” you tell Dom, smirking. “They ignored my existence entirely. They threw in some random woman with zero lines and called her Veronica in the credits. Whatever.”

Dom rolls her expressive umber eyes. “Yes, how flattering, I was in two scenes and one of them involved a joke about Roger cheating on me.”

“You’re a star, baby,” you say. “Deal with it.”

Dom smacks your arm playfully. She may be annoyed, but it doesn’t pain her the way it used to. She’s had decades of practice.

“The script could have been better,” Joe concedes. Then he spies John as he approaches, almost drops his caramel apple, waves frenetically. “Hi, Mr. Deacon! Hi!!”

“Wonderful job with all of this, Joe.” John shakes his hand as Joe gapes at him, starstruck. He’s always like that around John, appreciative, in awe, acutely aware of John’s legendary place in rock and roll history; and you love that someone besides you and Roger look at him that way.

“Thanks, I did it myself. Just kidding. It was 99% Gwil.”

“Well, I’ll still get you front row seats at the next Queen + Adam Lambert show.” It had taken a long time for John to find a front man he liked...a long time. He drove Roger and Brian insane. He kept saying he wanted someone who was like Freddie and yet simultaneously not trying to be Freddie, someone genuinely kind and charismatic and empathetic, an otherworldly talent, a natural performer. And then, on an unassuming spring night in 2009, they found him.  

Joe claps a palm on John’s shoulder and grins, his eyes glistening. “I’m obsessed with this little old guy! Obsessed, I tell you!”

“You want to see how old he is?” Roger teases. “Lift up that hand-knit hat and see what’s underneath. I’ll give you a hint. Not much.”

“At least I made it through the 90s without requiring hair plugs,” John counters.

“It was from all the bleaching!!”

“Hi, Rog!” Ben shouts as he rushes to embrace Roger, nearly knocking him off his feet. Mrs. Hardy is still across the field, talking to Brian, Anita, Rami, and Lucy, and trying to convince Eli not to crawl into a chocolate fountain.

Ben Hardy has always been somewhat of an enigma to you, mostly because he’s nothing at all like Roger. He’s subterranean-voiced and emerald-eyed and brooding and guarded and seems so much older than his twenty-nine years, and then every once in a while someone will come along and light him up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Unlike Roger, Ben doesn’t light up for many people. He does for his son Eli, of course, and for Joe Mazzello...and for his new wife. He lights up for her like fucking wildfire.

“Ben,” you say, holding out a bag speckled with black cats. “I have our gift for you.”

“You shouldn’t have! Thank you so much.”

“You can’t thank us until you open it,” John chastises.

So Ben does. Inside is an album of hundreds of photos you’ve taken of Queen since Roger bought you your first Canon for Christmas in 1974: pictures that have never been released publicly of the boys at the Rainbow, at the Budokan, in Rome, in Boston, in Japan, in New Orleans, at Montreal, at Madison Square Garden, at Live Aid, at the Surrey house, at Montreux. Interspersed are some of John’s sketches, the only ones you can bring yourself to part with: close-ups of a long-haired Freddie drawing on messy eyeliner, Roger adjusting his sunglasses with a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, Brian tuning his Red Special.

“Oh my god,” Ben whispers.

“Most of those are very old,” you explain. “And I heard you both like old things.”

“We definitely do.” He hugs you, suddenly and fiercely and warmly; and you catch a glimpse of what it must be like to be one of the few people that he allows to truly know him, those shadowed depths to balance Joe’s uncomplicated light.

Maybe that’s it, you realize. Maybe Joe is more like Roger and Ben like John.

The wedding playlist is exclusively classic rock songs: the Doors and Aerosmith and Fleetwood Mac and Led Zeppelin and Queen. As A Kind Of Magic ends, the eerie opening notes of Hotel California ripple out over the breezy autumn fields.

“Not this fucking song!” Roger cries.

Joe turns to you, confused.

“LSD,” you inform him. “1977. I would not recommend it.”

“Noted.”

Roger continues, rubbing his forehead: “It makes me think of...freaking...weird, creepy shit...like swimming at night through cold water. But I just keep swimming and can’t get anywhere.”

“It makes me think of sharks,” you say. “Maybe they’re related.”

“Freddie always said it made him think of birds,” John sighs. “And the color blue.”

The three of you pause, nodding, remembering.

Joe frowns solemnly, peering down at his shoes. “I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“He would have adored you,” you say.

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?! You would have been best friends. Always looking out for people. Always plotting the next escapade. That charming chaotic energy. The utter inability to bake anything.”

“Awwww.” Joe beams, delighted. “I fucking love you guys.”

“That’s the thing,” Roger says. “People don’t realize it. We’re more of a family than a band. We find people we take a shine to like ancient treasure, snatch them up, sand away all their rough edges, show them everything the world has to offer. And if they can survive the casualties of stardom, that trial by fire, they become permanent. They grow like roots into our blood, our bones...and perhaps we claim a part of theirs as well. They become things we can’t live without.”

“And once you’re in the family,” John tells Joe with a fond, crafty smile. “You can never leave.”

[allyvampirelass29]

When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads

When Good Fathers Take BAD Roads A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

The Wraith screams, racing breakneck with demon speed A wicked black flash, gone and there like smoke Ferrying passengers three, wearing the faces of ghosts What shadows chase you, Charlie, accompanied by those you love the most? Are you going to kill your darlings On this, the Road of No Return? Tires squeal and rubber burns A pathway forms more nightmare than real A knife ripping through reality, tearing at the tragic seam The road to Christmasland is paved in screams Your daughter transformed, while you ignore your wife's haunting cry Hold on, Good Father, for the ride of your life.

HOLY SMASH, and MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!!!!! "Good Father," was the ride, the MIND TRIP of my LIFE, as chilling, as it was thrilling, screaming unyielding into the drastic extreme, blinding light, and drowning darkness, happy and horrible, beautiful, and brutal, and it was a ride I only just barely survived. This is me, breathing heavy, adrenaline pumping, my legs giving out, kissing the ground, and yet, I have never felt this conflicted, torn up inside, about anything I've ever seen, drawn transfixed to the effervescence, the beckoning dream, and yet eviscerated by the looming, blood-dripping grin of the abject HORROR. What the HELL just happened!?

Okay, breathe, Ally...... So much to say, and yet my mind is a trembling mess of disparity, driven in the Wraith to the edge of madness itself!!! First off, can we just marvel at the enigmatic force, the sheer brilliance, and other worldly acting prowess that is possessed by our Mister Zachary Quinto!?!? I am CONVINCED he is an actual Strong Creative, and has graciously drawn us all in, in order to witness him build his inscape, and speak actual MAGIC!!! Besides being a catastrophic kind of handsome, the dark allure that you long to destroy you, striking your eyes, and stealing your heart, making you his happy, breathless victim, Zachary shifts effortlessly between dream and nightmare, being beautiful and terrifying, waltzing between both, with a passion that will leave you shell-shocked.

This episode is so hard to analyze, because it possesses both the brightest, happiest, most achingly euphoric scenes of the series, while also the creeping, darkest hours I have ever known. It begins like a splashy, champagne, Downton Daydream, Our Beloved Charles, delighting and igniting our passions, with his adorable antics, donning a pair of matchstick fangs, and we all heave a lovesick sigh, longing so to be the girl in his arms, that he's playfully pretending to bite. You will ALWAYS be My Nosferatu....... I whispered it along with her, watching the joy pierce through the calm dark of those perfect eyes, and all I want is to be her, his wife, Mrs. Manx. I was so excited, so impressed by this coy wink to NOS4A2's own parent material, the original 1922 silent film, “Nosferatu,” upon which our mad fever fantasy is based, that I broke into the biggest grin, shaking my head at the pure genius of it. Charles' distaste for the picture, and scoffing opinion, mocking it, calling it ridiculous, was a pure, tongue in cheek, joy, and I'm still trembling from when he said, "Love Bite." Ooooh, and the scene in the bedroom was so intimate and beautiful, as Charlie and Cassie share their dreams for the future, along with a dance and a passionate kiss, as some wonderous news is revealed. The family Manx is to become three, with a little sugar plum named Millie!!!

I wept when Charles held his daughter for the first time, as I realized THIS is where his obsession with Christmas began, as he received the greatest gift of them all. Every time he "saves," a new child, he gets to feel it all over again, in the glow of the coloured lights, and the tinkling bells of the music, what it's like to be a father, and to be loved, unconditionally by a child. He gazes at her with the purest, most profound love, even while his Father in Law, treats him perfectly horrid, openly degrades him, and yes, in one heart-stopping moment calls him a vampire!!! I was SPEECHLESS!!! His bond with his daughter is so powerful, and endearing, I sobbed, the most joyous tears ever I have shed, watching him tuck his beautiful little girl into bed, and soothe her fears in the flash of a lightning strike, both of them carefully constructing Christmasland in their minds, never knowing they would find it beyond the realm of lost dreams. I felt so happy I thought I could die, so moved by this tender scene, so oblivious as to what lay in wait......... as we twisted slowly around the corner.........

It was jarring enough, flashing between these idyllic Currier and Ives scenes, all luminous oil paintings come to life, to Charlie's decaying, autopsied, Frankenstein creature, shuffling, groaning, bleeding, through the living world. And yet, that was rather interesting, the ghastly contrast between Charlie's wonderful life, and the re-animated husk of his gruesome death. I especially loved his joyride in the stolen zebra print car!!! That was hilarious!!! However, the turn that I knew was coming, that I dreaded, was far more stomach-churning, and desperately frustrating than I could have ever prepared myself for.

Again, Zachary's acting was mesmerizing, every expression, every wild look in his eye, was so beautifully, and breathlessly performed, but for me, it was the writing itself, that went screaming off the rails. Charlie goes from the perfect husband, the most charming, and doting father, to difficult, suspicious, and accusing, for seemingly no reason at all. The way he spoke about his first wife in Parnassus, I expected to see her become the begrudging, bitter ball and chain he made her out clearly to be. But Cassie's sins are few and far between, and her punishments, and especially her disturbingly MORBID end, are unjustified. She tries to be practical by asking Charlie very politely if she should get a job, to which Charlie responds with unprovoked venom, with the same malice as if she'd revealed she'd been unfaithful. Thus begins, this odd new trend of Charlie continuously overreacting, entirely out of character, and blaming Cassie for everything going so wrong, actively wanting to hurt her, even selling off her mother's priceless heirlooms. My head hurt, my heart broke, and my GOD something was rotten in Christmasland!!! I realized then, that this whole episode has the faintest cyanide taste of audience manipulation.

"Good Father," seems to serve the single and sole purpose of turning the audience against Charlie Manx, and I could feel the force of the plot, trying to shift my mind in that unnatural direction. I could see the clever scheme at work, the writing on the wall, as they must have thought....... They love him too much........ Let's give Charlie his BITE back. Let's take this beautifully unique, nuanced, wounded, enigmatic, anti-hero, and make them love him even more, show him in all the tenderness, and affection they have so long craved, let them fall in love with him all over again, and then........ let's make them hate him, see that he is beyond saving, the incarnation of the purest evil. Let's ruin him, and that's how we'll ruin them. WHY!? This is the question that has kept me up in relentless frustration all week. WHY spend all this time, crafting this fascinating, deliciously intricate character, learning the pains and joys and hopes of his life, just to laugh it off, and say, oh no, Charlie Manx is a monster, and you're wrong for liking him!? To them I say, "If loving Charlie Manx is wrong....... I don't wanna be right." Because in spite of the blood curdling atrocities, and my tearful horror in the face of such plot, I can't not LOVE Charlie Manx.

What I have always loved about NOS4A2, is the way it flirts with the elements of horror, skirting teasingly around the sharp edge without fully going there. The final scene however screams full speed ahead into that sickening foray, and I was left trembling, terrified, sobbing stricken with just that. HORROR.

"Charlie, STOP, you're going to kill us all!!!"

"On that, My Dear, we are agreed."

While I was confused as to whether it was his intent to kill them all, drunkenly crashing his Wraith, or if he knew what terror would transpire on the way to Christmasland, this was a ride none of them were coming back from. Its gut-wrenching, frightening images, are matched only by its lack of even a semblance of sense. Charlie watches, excitedly, as his darling daughter's teeth fall out in a bloody display, absorbing her youth, her lifeforce, transforming her into a soulless vampire, and he doesn't so much as bat one of his gorgeous eyelashes, as his child kills and feasts on her mother's flesh. Yeah, I know........ MORBID. I was also bewildered as to how the car turned Charlie into a vampire of youth, and Millie into one of blood. Also, call me crazy, but....... Does not one first have to die to become a vampire?

But even more a glaring folly, no way in HELL would Charlie EVER kill his family, his sweet baby, no matter how bad things were with Cassie. Wouldn't it make SO much more sense for him to steal her back, and thus wouldn’t he come to see kidnapping synonymous with “saving,” a child, if Millie was the first one? Instead of having him try to kill them all, if that even was his dark intent, I would have had Cassie and Charlie fighting in the car, and Charlie, distracted by the quarrel, swerve, losing control, accidently crashing the Wraith. Cassie would be too far gone, but through his connection to the car, his Wraith would fight to save him, even if it meant borrowing a little siphon of his own daughter's youth.

Yeah, hey, let's talk for a quick sec about The Wraith. We know Charlie's life is connected to this mysterious car, but what we didn't know was how he acquired it........ until now. I don't know about you guys, but having Charlie simply purchase it, felt cheap to me, like it took away the magic of the fated knife, that he was always supposed to have. Bought. Sold. Done. NO. I didn't like it, and it never proved evident of the bond between Charlie and his Wraith. I would have had him find it, since he couldn't afford a new car on his own, a carcass, old, disused, rusted, and lovingly restore it, nurse it back to health, to life, until it shined. Charlie has a relationship with this car, a supernatural tie, and to me that would have been so much better, so much more meaningful than him pawning his wife's valuables to buy it. Meaning anybody could have done the same. One thing I LOVED about that scene, however, was seeing our dear Charles in his resplendent royal blue and blood red Chauffer's garb for the first time ever!!!! What a sneaking joy!!!

That's the thing about this episode, it's a dangerously mixed cocktail of anti-depressants and alcohol. There's so much to love, so much to hate, and so much to work over and over, trying to figure, until the point of insanity!!! I LOVED everything between our Miniature McQueen and young, hot, plaid clad Charlie, (HELLO SYLAR, am I right!?) and my heart STOPPED when I saw him over Wayne's shoulder, my pulse on pause, as they talked, and Charlie tutted disapproving, at the boy having never had a Christmas, not knowing who he was, who his mother was......... The suspense, the tension, was riveting.

I don't know how I feel about this impressive effort, trying to get me to despise Bing less, by having him say propaganda like, "I thought I was so big, because I had too much sad in me." That broke my heart, and it was infuriating, because I didn't want to feel any sympathy for him. No NOS4A2, you cannot try to turn me against My Magnificent Mister Manx, and in the same space, try to get me to like Bing CREEPER Partridge!!!! The scene in the graveyard was exceptionally well done, and I'm still shivering from the hushed thrill in Charlie's voice as he whispers. "He needs saving, Bing Partridge, don’t you agree?"

"Good Father," was an even more thrilling prospect as a title to me than, "Bad Mother," because I always knew it was true. Although, in retrospect, one is more inspired brilliance than the other. Can you still be a good father, and watch proudly as your young daughter becomes a monster, devouring her mother? Can you still be a good father, and leave your daughter, after she thought you were dead for eight years? Charlie is a good father, that went down a BAD road, and has forgotten the way back, although he still dons every surface appearance, as such. I did like when he made Millie apologize to his new charge, and curtsy with a begrudging welcome, spoken through her gritted teeth. That was adorably paternal, and one hundred percent Charlie!!!! However, as a whole, this episode persists as the mystery I can't solve, making me feel every emotion possible on the human spectrum, drinking in the dream, blissfully intoxicated, and sobbing uncontrollably, terrified out of my mind, the next.

Charlie may not be, "The Good Father," he once was, but a glimmer of it shines like a forgotten ember in his obsidian eyes, and despite the glaring conclusion this episode emphatically urges you to make, I still hold that there is good in Charlie, and that he can be saved. I also think it speaks revelations toward labels. Vic is no more a scarlet letter branded Bad Mother, than Charlie is a Good Father. There is good and bad, hero and villain, in all of us. It just depends what roads we're willing to take.

[fred-frederator-studios]

Dale Pon, R.I.P.

Pretty much the most famous media advertising campaign in history is “I Want My MTV!” –the May 2020 Google search returns 184,000 results, more than 30 years after the last flight ran– and it was the result of the brain of Dale Pon.*

* As I explain in detail in the pieces below, writer extraordinaire Nancy Podbielniak was the word spark for the campaign; it was George Lois who suggested ripping off “I Want My Maypo!” Dale Pon was the person who took these notions and turned them into brilliance.

Dale persuaded me and the powers that be at MTV that he could make it work, Dale who convinced MTV programmers to recording artists to participate for no fees. It was Dale who took the paltry budget allotted and strategized how to maximize the network’s cable distribution. And finally, it was Dale Pon’s dogged persistence and genius that caused cable operators across America to beg us to please stop running the campaign before all the telephone operators quit in frustration from all the people “demanding their MTV!!!” 

My great friend –and better mentor– Dale Pon, passed away from difficulties due to Parkinson’s and Covid19. There’s no way to convey all of the ways people expressed their sadness to me today, but one of them probably encapsulated things best by saying “Complicated but brilliant, creatively inspired, strategic like chess master , we were lucky to have been touched by his talents...” All too true. 

Dale could be –to say the least– a challenging personality. Determined to win, he could be a bulldozer crushing an ant. Warm at his core, he could be beyond generous will all he had at his disposal. Unlike many others with talent and raw intelligence, he was quick to share his remarkable thinking, lavish in his ability to elevate the talents of the shy and uncertain, and as bountiful with praises as he could be lacerating with his critical observations. He loved as deeply as he was able, and a constant explorer for the meanings of life. 

When it came to the work, there was no one better at understanding media, and getting fans interested in its rewards. I don’t know if it was his methodologies and personality, or the fact that media promotion wasn’t all that well respected in the ad biz, but Dale didn’t have too much of a profile in the advertising world. I think, ultimately, he was much more focused on the work than on the publicity. So, things being what they are, what I’ve collected seems to be the most comprehensive look at his career, at least the parts that I’ve directly touch. By no means is it comprehensive, I know nothing about his radio days in the early 70s, and little about his work after I joined the cartoon industry. But all of what I have is yours, below. 

I’ll lead with what a few of his colleagues and friends wrote a few years ago for Dale’s birthday. And then, below that, all the various campaign pieces (written from my perspective, of course) I’ve recalled over the years. 

.....

April 2016, on the occasion of Dale’s birthday.

Dale Pon, my mentor and friend. Fucking smart.

Dale Pon’s been on my mind lately, as he is almost every day, because of the ways he taught me to think about …. um,everything. I’ve written about some other important mentors before, but Dale’s influence was so staggering I could never figure out how to sketch it out in anything shorter than book length.  

“Dominate the space.” (He was referring to graphic design, but it might have served as a life philosophy).

“Of course, there’s an absolute truth.”

“You remember the first thing you see, but the last thing you hear.”

“The power of three.” (Broke that rule with this list.)

“Advertising is a frequency medium.”

“You make album tracks. I make hit songs.”

I’m not sure that he ever thought of himself as particularly quotable, but as you’ll see below, I wasn’t alone in internalizing. There were hundreds more bon mots, most of which he probably forgot as soon as he said them but stuff I’ve never been able to shake off, to this day.

His resume doesn’t do him justice, but quickly… For 40 years, Dale Pon was at the forefront of media programming and promotion for many of the major media companies, CBS, NBC, Viacom, Storer Broadcasting (where we met). He specialized in radio throughout his career, but when Bob Pittman moved into cable television, he prevailed there too (“I Want My MTV!” is still returns hundreds of thousands of Google search results, 30 years after it went off the air). He was wildly successful in an advertising agency partnership with ad legend George Lois, before setting up a solo shop, Dale Pon Advertising, in New York City.

Dale was brash and loud, very, and he certainly wasn’t to everyone’s taste. The friend who first recommended me for one of his jobs called in a rage when he quit and said if I really needed a gig so badly… I knew Dale’s work from its supremacy of the metropolitan subway system for the New York country music powerhouse (a paradox if there ever was one) WHN Radio, but it hadn’t occurred to me that actual human beings created advertising, or that it took any real brain power. Dale quickly disabused me of that notion, as he sent me to his tailor to buy me my first three piece suit (more appropriate for Park Avenue media than the cut off shorts I wore to our interview).

Most of all, he was really fucking smart. And deeply, articulately, astute about media. He could tell the story of radio stations or television networks better than anyone, and persuade their audiences to fall profoundly in love, by sticking to the basic human emotions like truth, desire, love. (My favorite? “Love songs, nothing but love songs” for WPIX-FM, directly appropriated for an Off-Broadway show). He didn’t end it there, with a creative, strategic and statistical brilliance that combined, to quote Bob Pittman (from another context completely) “math and magic.”

What I appreciated most was his intense, almost overwhelming desire to teach me everything he knew at exactly the moment I was desperate for his knowledge. In fact, as I observed him with myself and others over the years, it would be fair to say that if you wasn’t interested in being taught, Dale Pon wasn’t interested in you. And, not for nothing, it went both ways. He’s was as incisive a questioner and listener as one could want. Curious, intrigued, dying to know anything on almost any subject. In my case, it meant that we generally spent six or seven days together all the years we were together in two different media capitals. Whew!

Difficult? Challenging? Exasperating? You bet. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.

Dale’s the one who changed the course of my work life, and as Scott Webb says below, “he changed me.” It’s because of Dale that I stumbled on my understanding that I wasn’t a music guy after all, or even a TV baby, but a pop culture sponge. I wouldn’t had the chance to participate in any of the culture shiftings I got to observe first hand. Who knows, maybe I would’ve stumbled through a life of complete dissatisfaction. That’s how profound his influence was on me.

Dale’s birthday recently passed by, and stuck for cogent things to say about him, I reached out to a few friends who’ve crossed his path and might be better at expressing themselves than I ever could. You’ll notice they’re pretty powerful personalities themselves, but Dale made an impression. Boy, did he make an impression. (I left out some of those controversial moments and unproductive comments.)

Well, our friends didn’t let us down. They got to the heart of the matter in ways I never could. Thanks everyone.

…..

Herb Scannell: Mythical.

Dale Pon is mythical.

He’s the man who “wanted his MTV” and got the world to say the same. My friend Fred always claimed that he learned whatever he knew from Dale and whatever I know I learned from Fred so it all comes back to Dale. Or blame them both. Happy Birthday Dale! Forever young!

…..

Bob Pittman: The Mad Scientist.

Dale Pon is the mad scientist of advertising. Full of passion, always with a breakthrough idea and the urgency to get it done quickly with no compromises. He made a huge contribution to my successes at WNBC Radio, MTV and even Six Flags theme parks. One of a kind….happy birthday to him from a big fan!

……

Scott Webb: “Most people don’t know how to think.”

Dale Pon didn’t just change my life he changed me. He encouraged me to be brave and fearless and never stop solving problems. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met and the teacher I will never forget.

You never know how things are going to happen. After 4 years at Sarah Lawrence, one of the most expensive liberal arts schools, I was clueless about a career. My secret wish was to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC Radio; they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive.

I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there.

“You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” asked Buzz Brindle, a WNBC program director. Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pan.

Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating.

My first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making. I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

A lot of people at the station didn’t like Dale mostly because he would raise his voice to make a point or because he was passionate about his beliefs, or would not hold back his opinion when something was mediocre, pedestrian or just plain stupid. Dale expected greatness in people, work and business. His mission was to win and often people found that difficult to embrace. I, on the other hand, found it awesome. I guess he reminded me of the comic book heroes I admired so much - characters who were extraordinary and could do things other people thought were impossible. Most people at the radio station were happy to have a job and get a paycheck and could care less about being #1 but for him that was all that mattered.

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly what the problem was – and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways.

“Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.”  

Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

…..

Bill Sobel: He yelled at me on the phone…no idea why.

…..

Noreen Morioka: “Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.”

There is no doubt that we all have a great Dale Pon story. Dale never did anything average. He did everything in extremes. Whether you were laughing so hard that you couldn’t breathe or wanting to shake him like a rag doll, Dale is unforgettable.

One of my favorite Dale Pon stories is when he was pitching a new name for a network. Since the channel was going to be all re-runs of a lower level, Dale named it Trash TV. I loved it, but when I presented my designs, he thought what I did wasn’t trashy enough and proceeded to get another designer to put flies swarming around the proposed logomark. When he presented his concept to the network president, he stopped at the building dumpster and pulled out garbage to bring up to presentation. Needless to say, the meeting didn’t go well, and the president was furious that Dale brought garbage into his beautiful office. Stern words were exchanged on both sides and security was called to take Dale and garbage out of the office. He called later to let me know they were going to search for another name. The network changed their name several times since then, and each time Dale would just smile. We all knew his solution was genius.

Like you, Fred, Dale taught me a lot. He taught me never to settle, always come back stronger and most importantly what the difference between good and evil was.

“Good creates things, and Evil destroys it.” Thanks to this simple Dale Pon-ism, I live my life by.

I will always have a deep respect and love for that guy. Happy Birthday, Dale. You are the true original.

…..

Tina Potter: So thoughtful.  

Dale is a magnanimous gift-giver. I once told him the Chrysler Building was my favorite building in NY, and the next time I saw him, he brought me a beautiful framed B&W print of the building! So thoughtful. I still have it!

……

Judith Bookbinder: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

I learned a lot from Dale in a very short time.

Dale taught me that ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

If you want to make something happen, figure it out or find someone who can do it for you.

This simple wisdom is something that has served me throughout my professional life.

…..

Ed Salamon: Directness and Simplicity.  

I always appreciate the opportunity to say something nice about Dale, but the stories that first came to mind involved women, drugs, and fistfights. Or were otherwise too self-incriminating. Here’s what I’ve come up with:

The genius of Dale’s creativity is its directness and simplicity (like “I Want My MTV!”). Unfortunately that sometimes resulted in it being underappreciated.

When we worked together at WHN Radio I once heard our boss say to Dale at the end of the day “We need a new ad campaign slogan for the station by tomorrow. Take twenty minutes tonight, walk around the Village and come up with something.”

When I later started The United Stations Radio Network with Dick Clark and others, we hired Dale to create the logo, which  he agreed to do out of friendship for only a nominal fee. The logo was a distinctive type face, with the letters stuck together (“united”). Some in the company commented that it was too simple; others appreciated its genius.

……

Tom Freston: A great bunch of guys.

Dale is a great bunch of guys. Argumentative, persistent, a perfectionist, fun, difficult, and smart as hell….winning, ultimately, most of his arguments. Happy birthday.

…..

Therese Gamba: “Work smarter, not harder.”

Long before there was “Better Call Saul” it was “Better Call Dale”  when you were faced with a creative challenge.  Dale had a long term relationship with MTV Networks having been part of the launch team for that iconic channel.  So when The Nashville Network had to be relaunched  as the new home of the WWE (then the WWF), oh and it had to be done in three months, there was only one person to call.

My first meeting with Dale was over lunch at the Mercer Kitchen.  Fred had prepped me that Dale liked metrics and to be ready for a lot of questions.  But as anyone who’s met with Dale will tell you, you can never be fully prepared for the hurricane of creative energy that is Dale Pon.

I was prepared with my Venn diagram of the overlap between TNN’s current viewers and the WWE’s viewers (no surprise, not a big cross section). Then the questions started in what felt like a ping pong match at warp speed.  

Two hours into the lunch I had held my own and received the nod from Dale that I was on the right track. I was exhausted, relieved and thrilled to have passed the test. I learned that once you’ve basked in the glow of Dale’s approval, you were hooked.  I also learned that I had become a member of an exclusive club, “Dale’s World.”  My fellow club members all know the stories, share the memories and still live by what he taught us.

Dale always said “work smarter, not harder.”  That mantra has never failed me just as Dale never failed to be supportive, inquisitive and completely one of a kind!

Happy Birthday dear Dale!

(From left): Dale Pon, Anne Grassi, Scott Webb at WNBC Radio, circa 1980.

Alan Goodman: “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

Two stories about Dale Pon –

1. I was in Paris with Dale (who ran our advertising agency – my mentor was now my supplier) and MTV’s VP of Programming, Les Garland. Dale and Les weren’t pals. How tense was it? We had dinner together one night in Paris and Les bought us all expensive Cuban cigars. Outside, Dale waited until Les split off to go to his hotel. The first second Les was out of sight, Dale pitched his cigar in the gutter.

We had flown on 10 hours notice so we could shoot Mick Jagger saying “I Want My MTV!” Dale had already shot a number of other MTV generation stars shouting the line, and some were even biggish. But Jagger was THE “get.” We knew that once Jagger blessed our campaign by participating, we’d get anyone else we would ever want. (We did).

We waited around the hotel a couple of days until we got the bat signal that Mick was ready, and raced over to his hotel to set up. Very quickly, what was supposed to be Dale’s shoot had become Les’ shoot. Dale was pissed, rigid with anger, sequestered with me in the adjoining room forced to watch the proceedings on a monitor. I went over to him to try to diffuse the situation. I can’t remember what I told him. But I remember his response, word for word:

“Do you think I need to hear any of this right now?”

I realized why I was in Paris. I was there, as the client, to witness who threw the first punch.

I had spent every single day of the past four months in the office trying to figure out how to do a job I had no idea how to do. I was exhausted. I had zero interest in the kind of politics and shenanigans that network executives pull, and I didn’t want to be there. That’s it, I decided. I’ve had enough. I’m a writer. I have a talent. I can make a living. I will get back home and I will immediately quit.

I said nothing. I smiled through the rest of the shoot. We stopped at a bistro after we wrapped, and had a lovely dinner and wine with the crew. It was a celebration. For good reason. We had Jagger. I stayed quiet. Silent, even. No one knew of my plans.

When we reached the hotel, Dale drew me aside and sat me down.

“You’re not going to quit,” he said. What?! Huh?! How did he know? On top of everything, the man can read minds??!

“You’re not going to quit. You are at the very beginning of something that will change the world, and you will have a great career. You have to stay there and be a part of that and do what you do really well. You cannot leave. Do you understand? You cannot quit.”

He went up to bed. I went home the next day, and didn’t quit. Instead, I stayed and helped make the thing that changed the world. And it was the beginning of a great career.

2. I went to get my hair cut at Astor Place one day. I walked up to my guy, and there in the chair was Dale. I didn’t know Dale used my guy. Dale looked up at me, looked at the barber, and told him, “I’ll give you 50 bucks to fuck up this guy’s haircut.”

…..

Scott Webb (unedited): “He didn’t just change my life he changed me.”

You never know how things are going to happen.

I was a few short months away from graduating from Sarah Lawrence College with no idea what I would do for a job. I was a kid who had grown up reading and loving comic books. After 4 years at one of the most expensive liberal arts schools I was clueless about a career. My secret wish remained to write comics (mostly because I had no talent to draw). Sarah Lawrence was a great place for me. It was there that I understood how to learn. I was naturally curious and SLC exposed me to a world of ideas and brilliant people (students and teachers). But Sarah Lawrence was not a place where I could start a career path. 5 months from graduating I felt the looming pressure of finding a job and making money. Unlike most of my class at SLC my parents were basically working class folks with a yankee work ethic who expected me to not move back home after graduation.  

One January evening, I was talking with my friend Betsy K who had just graduated. She had just returned home from job hunting in the city. She had an interview at WNBC radio with a guy named Buzz Brindle. She said they weren’t hiring but were looking for interns. “What’s an intern?” I asked. I was so naive. She explained that an internship is where you work for free - for experience and to get your foot in the door. WNBC was part of NBC - one of only 3 existing TV networks at the time and my eyes lit up at the idea of of doing anything with a big media company. So I lined up a meeting with Buzz to see if I was intern material.

Buzz was sweet and avuncular and I immediately fell in love with the energy of the radio station. I had to work there. “We’re looking for interns in the promotion department” Buzz explained and I just nodded as affirmatively as possible. “You’ll be working for Dale Pon. He’s very demanding. Do you think you can handle that?” Me? Of course! I’ve got my Yankee work ethic and my Sarah Lawrence education. I thought I was ready for anything. But I was not ready for Dale Pon.  

I interned at the station 2 days a week and It appeared I was the only male in Dale’s promotion team. I reported to a woman named Anne Grassi but Dale was the boss. Dale was bigger than life, louder than anyone else in the company and frequently slammed the door to his tiny office. I had never worked in an office before. I found him brilliant, charismatic and intimidating. The other interns and I would huddle in the conference room where we did our work and wait for our next assignment.

I did many things as an intern but my first big assignment for Dale was to create a chart of all the radio stations in New York and rank them by ratings performance over the past 2 years. This was no small task - this was way before computers in offices - and required me to go to the NBC research department to collect dozens of Arbitron ratings books and laboriously extract the data he wanted and lay it out graphically. I wanted to do a great job for him but the truth was that I was terrible at chart making.

I was a liberal arts comic book kid and he had me doing statistical analysis and I knew if I did a bad job I would probably face his famous wrath behind a slammed closed door. But despite my inept chart building, Dale painstakingly taught me how to read the Arbitron reports and methodically went through my work and instructed me how to correct it. I learned more from him over that 5 month internship than I had in my last 2 years of college. But my lesson wasn’t in statistical analysis or radio promotion. Dale had high expectations of me, he believed in me and he was demanding in the pursuit of excellence.

The chart was part of his battle plan to make WNBC #1 in the NYC market and when I understood the big picture of what he was doing I felt even more inspired and willing to do anything in the service of that cause.

A lot of people at the station didn’t like Dale mostly because he would raise his voice to make a point or because he was passionate about his beliefs, or would not hold back his opinion when something was mediocre, pedestrian or just plain stupid. Dale expected greatness in people, work and business. His mission was to win and often people found that difficult to embrace. I, on the other hand, found it awesome. I guess he reminded me of the comic book heroes I admired so much - characters who were extraordinary and could do things other people thought were impossible. Most people at the radio station were happy to have a job and get a paycheck and could care less about being #1 but for him that was all that mattered.  

It didn’t hurt that he was so smart and insightful. He had the uncanny super power of understand exactly wha the problem was - and he taught me that creativity was the ability to solve problems in fresh, innovative and smart ways. “Do you know why I hired you?” he asked me at the end of my internship. “I didn’t want to hire one of those kids who studied advertising or media in college. Those kids have been ruined. They show up thinking they already know everything - and they haven’t even had a job yet. You didn’t know anything but you were willing to learn and think. Most people don’t know how to think.”  Those were some of the most important words I ever heard. They lit a fire of confidence and trust in myself that did not exist before and served me throughout my life, not just in work but in life.

Dale Pon didn’t just change my life he changed me. He encouraged me to be brave and fearless and never stop solving problems. He is one of the smartest people I have ever met and the teacher I will never forget.

.....

Susan Kantor and David Hyman were on the opposite side of their relationships with him, Susan as a long time account executive in Dale’s agencies, and David as a client. Drew Takahashi, a trusted friend and wonderful creative partner.  

I’m particularly fond of the pull quote from David’s recollections. Having had hundreds of restaurant meals with DP over the years, waitress confusion was probably my overriding remembrance.

Susan Kantor has traveled to the upper heights of television since her time with Dale Pon in the 1980s. But when you read her memoir below he prepared her well, as he did with all of us.

Drew Takahashi is a director who co-founded (Colossal) Pictures, San Francisco, one of the most creative production companies of the 1980s and 90s, and one of the key creative suppliers to the first decades of MTV.

David Hyman became my head of marketing at the MTVi Group when the company purchased Sonicnet.com, one of David’s early digital music endeavors (he’s gone on as founder of MOG, one of the seminal digital music streamers).

…..

Susan Kantor: “Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale”

Hands down, Dale Pon was my most influential career mentor. Ridiculously smart, enormously passionate, admirably courageous and truthfully a little scary.

We would all brace ourselves for the moment the elevator doors opened and the sound of his fiercely determined walk in his trademarked cowboy boots could be heard. With the first, “good morning” would come a rapid fire interrogation of where we were at on all the “to do’s” he had just given us an hour ago. “Why isn’t it done yet?”

Leslie Fenn-Gershon and I used to joke about putting a Valium in his Perrier so we could get through the day.

When I got to the office in the morning there would often be a “note”, on my chair written with red Sharpie marker on yellow pad lined paper (pre-email), from Dale.  His handwriting, had as much conviction as his spoken word.  These encouraging notes were meant to guide, remind, teach, mentor or simply, to show his appreciation - often complimentary, occasionally piercing. I still have them.

“Lead, don’t follow”. Love, Dale

“Let’s make things happen!” Love Dale “

“There are children and there are parents. Be a parent.” Love, Dale “

“Everyone wants to be told what to do. Tell them.” Love, Dale “

“We had a good day today. Thank you for your help.” Love, Dale

As we chased rock stars around the globe helping MTV and VH1 revolutionize the music industry, and traversed across the county to position many TV and radio stations in their market, Dale always imparted the importance of what we were doing and demanded we do our very best, every day.

He recognized my innate work ethic, enthusiasm and willingness to do whatever it took to learn and succeed – he also knew how young and naïve I was.  Ripe for mentorship and direction. I got both, and then some. The Dale Pon “boot camp” was not always pretty, but it was always colorful, impactful, memorable and most importantly, meaningful.  

Not only did he teach me all about advertising and the importance of finding the unique selling proposition and saying it as simply as possible so people would remember it, he showed me the world and how not to be intimidated by it. He made me self-aware of my talents and my shortcomings. He also taught me there was no substitute for doing the work.

To this day, I love you Dale and I thank you for believing in me and giving me the chance of a lifetime.

Belated birthday wishes and hope to see you again soon!

…..

Drew Takahashi: “…he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated.“

After seeing you and the MTV crew took me back to good/bad old days. I realized I missed Dale Pon.

Back in the day I didn’t know he was a mentor. I only knew he gleefully pushed me to do stuff I hated. In the end I realized you and he knew what was better for me than what I knew. Someday I’ll learn my lesson.

Steve Linden and I went to shoot with Dale for WNBC [AM]. He asked us to meet him at Windows on the World bar for drinks and dinner. He showed up two hours later and Steve and I were suitably toasted. Then he insisted we join him in a very alcoholic dinner. I was so hungover the morning of the shoot I didn’t know how I could direct the talent, Don Imus. Dale apologized for needing to shoot something first so we didn’t roll my spot until the afternoon. Saved my ass.

Many more memories. The weirdest was him in the Colossal bathroom cleaning crabs of their guts for a surprise picnic in the middle of our animation camera shoot.

…..

David Hyman: “[He] always confused the waitresses.”

Here’s mine:

Dale came up with the name of my company, Gracenote.  I think that just came really easy to him.  

For a while he was a really great teacher to me. I stubbornly couldn’t take the occasional abuse that went with it, even though it was probably good for me. I was honored to be asked as the voice over for a $30 million tv ad campaign by Dale and encouraged to do voice over work. Thrilling to be informed I had career chops outside of sales & marketing.

Dale is the only person i know that would always order two margaritas for himself (at the same time). It always confused the waitresses.

.....

With Dale Pon @WHN Radio. 1977, New York City.

It was against all odds, but my late 70s stint in country music radio hooked me up with a mentor who made the difference.

Before I got to New York’s 1050 WHN, I was aware of the station. Well aware. Sometime in 1976, my friend/future partner/father of my beloved nephew and niece, Alan Goodman, asked me whether I’d seen some giant subway posters (the top photo above). Of course, I’d noticed them, with large portraits of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, The Eagles, Charlie Pride, Loretta Lynn, Kenny Rogers, Olivia Newton-John, Linda Ronstadt and seemingly dozens of other traditional and contemporary stars of the era. There were so many, they seemed to be everywhere. And, they were gorgeous, well designed, in a sea of drop-dead-New York graffiti, hum drum posters, homeless campers and mess, standing out like nothing we’d ever seen down there before. Too bad it was for music we couldn’t stand.

After I got the job with the station’s creative director and ad man, Dale Pon (another story for another time), I found out a bit about the thinking at the station and the advertising campaign. How did a city that was the home of the most sophisticated popular music of all time –to the likes of Duke Ellington, George Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Frank Sinatra– welcome the shitkickers in and become the second most popular radio station in the United States (or the world, for that matter)?

Dale was the supremely gifted Vice President of Creative Services, and he introduced me to Ed Salamon, the station’s innovative program director (Neil Rockoff was the General Manager who brought them together), who used a Top 40 radio approach* to country radio, upending the entire (typical New Yorker’s) notion that country music hadn’t evolved since Hank Williams.

No ordinary radio promotion guy, Dale had been a media buyer at Ogilvy, a radio upstart (a mild description) when the world switched from AM to “progressive” FM, and run radio ad sales teams. In the 80s, he would go on to successfully run his own advertising agency, and together we started one of the most famous media campaigns of all time, “I Want My MTV!”).  

Dale Pon wasn’t going to promote the station as cowboy boots and hats, like the last team did. He wanted big ratings for WHN, big ratings. They all did.

* If you’re interested, Ed’s written a book that details his contrarian, and wildly successful, methods called WHN: When New York Went Country.  

WHN Radio illustrations from top to bottom, all creative direction by Dale Pon 1977: New York City subway station double truck posters (L-R) Olivia Newton-John (obscured), Linda Ronstadt, Elvis Presley; Olivia Newton-John; Kenny Rogers; Television/Radio Age cover ads; Linda Ronstadt double truck subway poster.

.....

I Want My MTV! Early 1980s, New York City.

MTV had been on the air for six months and we’d fired the storied Ogilvy & Mather and hired Dale Pon’s LPG/Pon (a joint venture with George Lois) at my insistence. Now they were presenting their first trade campaign for advertisers and cable operators and my first big decision was being called into question. America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! “It’s audacious! Outrageous! Just like you guys.” George Lois was a big talker, a big seller, and a bit of a smart ass, loudmouth. He was also smart. Even though I knew he designed the “cable brats” thing, it was my brilliant mentor Dale, who’d never steered me wrong creatively or strategically, who was behind the whole thing. His ex-girlfriend, and now one of my best friends, Nancy Podbielniak, had written the copy. Besides, I agreed with Dale that generally trade advertising was a waste of time and bigger waste of money. Consumers were where it’s at, and weren’t all the tradesmen we were hopping to reach consumers too? If we had a knockout punch of consumer advertising our job would be done. I knew he was keeping his powder dry for the big show.

America is fast becoming a land of Cable Brats! There’s an incorrigible new generation out there. They grew up with music. They grew up with television.  So we put ‘em both together – for the Cable Brats, and they’re taking over America! They’re men and women in the 18 to 34 age range advertisers want most – plus the increasingly important 12 to 17 segement. The Cable Brats buy all the high volume, high ticket, high tech, high profit products of modern America. They’re strong-willed, cunning, crazily impulsive – an advertiser’s peerless audience. They look and listen and they want their MTV. And they buy, buy, buy. Rock'n'Roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV. (The exploding 24-hour Video Music Cable Network (and it’s Stereo!)

George was certainly right. It was audacious, and it was a touch outrageous. Somehow, the tone wasn’t quite right, but after the crap Ogilvy had done for us, it was way better. Besides, hidden in there was the sand grain that was going to lead us to our pearl.

.....

I Want My MTV! 1982, New York City.

I WANT MY MTV! took the phenomenon that had taken over the imaginations of young America and supercharged it into a famous brand with just about everyone in the country. I just googled [in 2010]  “I Want My MTV” and it popped up almost 4,760,000 results. Pretty amazing for an advertising campaign that ceased to exist 22 years ago.* Pretty potent.   The whole thing was the work of my mentor and friend Dale Pon. He’d been my first boss in the commercial media, at WHN Radio in New York when it was a country music station. He’d recommended me for my job at Warner Amex Satellite Entertainment Company, as the production director of The Movie Channel, and eventually as the first Creative Director of MTV: Music Television. We’d fallen in and out over the years, but in late 1981, when it came time for us to hire an advertising agency again –at first, the top dog had vetoed Dale as not heavy enough for a company like ours– with a lot of help from my immediate boss Bob Pittman, I was able to convince everyone that Dale understood media promotion better than anyone else in America. Anyone. Besides, didn’t he have “insurance” with his partner, legendary adman George Lois?

Dale Pon (via MTV: The Making of a Revolution)

No one had ever encountered an ad executive like Dale, because he had the unique ability to be completely and analytically strategic –”math and magic” Pittman might call it– and be wildly, and intelligently, creative at the same time. An almost unheard of combination, especially in media advertising. Sure, he had a volatile nature, in advertising that was often a given (look at his partner). But it was his strategic, creative abilities that really set him apart.

We’d already done our first trade campaign, the “Cable Brats,“ to the discomfort of most of the suits in the corporate marketing group (Bob and his team, me included, were in programming). But Dale didn’t buy into the efficacy of trade ads anyhow, so now were onto the big show, television advertising. The only problem was that we all recognized that an effective campaign would cost about $10,000,000. Our budget only had $2,000,000, and if we didn’t spend it quickly the corporate gods would probably take it away in the fall.

"I want my Maypo” commercials, created by John Hubley

Looking back, the core creative ended up being the most straightforward part. Dale’s closest friend and creative partner, Nancy Podbielniak had written the cable brats copy and had a tag line “Rock'n'roll wasn’t enough for them – now they want their MTV!” That rung a bell in George Lois, someone who never missed a chance to abscond with someone else’s good idea, and decided to rip off his own knock off of a Maypo campaign from the 1950s and 60s (animator John Hubley originated it as a set famous animated spots, and George had unsuccessfully knocked it off using sports stars) and presented a storyboard that completely duplicated his version. Rock stars like Mick Jagger were saying “I Want My MTV” and crying like babies, implying they were spoiled children being denied. No one was buying it until Dale let me know that there was no way he’d ask Pete Townshend or Mick to cry for us. “Pride! They need to show their pride in rock'n'roll! They’ll be shouting!” After a little corporate fuss we were able to sell it in.

AMERICA! DEMAND YOUR MTV!

Now, it was the next part that was completely and utterly brilliant. Because Dale came from the school that great creative was all well and good, but unless it could move the business needle, what good was it? In this case, the needle wasn’t ratings (cable TV didn’t have ratings in 1981), but active households, distribution for MTV. Cable operators were all relatively old guys who thought The Weather Channel was a better idea; they’d turned a deaf ear to their younger employees who were clamoring for us instead.

To dramatically simplify the strategy Dale organized, he decided to only advertise in markets where:

• There was enough penetration to justify a modest ad spend.

• But where there were critically large cable operators on the fence about taking MTV.

• And that we could afford a 300 gross rating point buy (three times heavier as any consumer products agency would suggest) for at least four weeks in a row (the traditional media spend would call for pulsing 10 days on and 10 days off).

The “G” in LPG/Pon was Dick Gershon. Along with data from our affiliate group, he crunched and crunched and crunched until he came up with a list of markets and dates we could afford. It was 20% of what we needed, but everyone figured if we could really start to knock off a bunch of cable systems, get them actually launch our network, the domino effect would solidify MTV’s hold on the market forever.

Strategy in place, the creative was back on the front burner. The basic campaign was a great way to get famous rock stars endorsing our channel, but where was the close? What would actually make the 'ka-ching’ we needed? Luckily, back in the day there was only one way to for a homeowner get anything from your reluctant jerk of a cable operator (they figure they held all the cards, why should they do anything to make life better for their consumers?). And what was it that young adults loved to do? Dale knew immediately.

No one alive in front of a television set in the summer of 1982 could ever forget

Pete Townshend, with the wackiest haircut of his career, shouting at the video camera:

“America! DEMAND your MTV! Call your cable operator and say, "I WANT MY MTV!!”

We shot the spots wherever the rock stars would have us for 20 minutes (they still weren’t really sure this MTV: Music Television thing was going to be good for them). Our director and producer, Tommy Schlamme and Buzz Potamkin, got together with some puppeteers to choreograph the 'dancing’ stereo television. I asked my partner to go into the studio to edit the music sections when they weren’t rocking enough, and –poof!– famous advertising.

Nothing to it, yes?

* For comparison, “I Want My Maypo” posts 112,000 results on Google. Or “Where’s the beef?”, another famous 1980’s campaign for Wendy’s returns 176,000 (or if you only use that phrase, which has been appropriated for all sorts of uses, you get 2,640,000).

.....

“Mee, mee, me, meeee!” MTV Networks Online, 1999/2000 New York City

MTV got Sonicnet in the middle of another transaction they thought would be more important. But as the internet heated up in the business world’s consciousness, Sonicnet.com became something they thought to pay attention to. Which meant that, as president of MTV Networks Online, I was trying to help make the thing successful.

MTV had also acquired a then-unique personalized radio application. Coupled with Sonicnet, we decided an ad campaign would supercharge the site, something large media folks like us thought was necessary. (It wasn’t.*)

Over a few objections, I hired my brilliant, challenging mentor Dale Pon to create our campaign. Dale had done our the iconic “I Want My MTV” for me in the early 1980s and constantly proved himself to be the most creative and effective media ad man in America. The stunningly talented and perfectly musical film director Tim Newman was already on our online staff (after turning his back on a career that included some of the greatest music videos of all time), so he was really the only person who we thought could direct the spots. Dale hustled our head of marketing, David Hyman, into his one and only –and perfect– voice acting job. (And, I should put in a word for the Sonicnet logo. Designed by AdamsMorioka, from a concept developed by Fred Graver.

You can see for yourself that Dale knew how conceive big ideas to bring out the best from stars. With Tim in the director’s chair, the results were pretty stunning. And, to cap it, Dale really knew how to use MTVi’s clout to reach for the stars (like Isaac Hayes, James Brown, Joshua Bell, Jewel, Pat Metheny, Sheryl Crow, Beenie Man, Gang Starr, Faith Hill, Lindsey Buckingham, Don Henley, Al Jarreau, Alice Cooper, Blink 182, Kenny Wayne Shephard, Bon Jovi, Buck Cherry, Charlotte Church, Christina Acquilera, Dwight Yoakam, The Ruff Ryders, Eve, Johnny Resnick (The Goo Goo Dolls), kd lang, Buck Cherry, Kelis, Lindsey Buckingham, Melissa Etheridge, Moby, Seal, Sisqo, Static X, SheDaisy, Hillary Hahn, Charlotte Church, Yo Yo Ma, and Sting.)

This campaign, like every other one I’d worked on with Dale over the decades, was a hoot. One of the best things to come out of my one year in the early corporate internet. 

…..

* IMHO, one of the great mistakes media companies made during Web 1.0, was thinking that their traditional audience reach would give them huge advantage in building web destinations. They’d made the exact same mistake in the transition from broadcast to cable. It didn’t occur to them in either era that a basic misunderstanding of the newest medium –not knowing what the audience wanted from the upstarts– would not attract anyone to their websites.

And, by the by, the same mistake has been made from popular websites bungling the transition to mobile. And, so it goes.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Dream Ashes (Yoongi x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, FwB AU, HYYH AU

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm, smoking, drinking and domestic abuse, toxic relationships, unrequited love, Top!/Dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), (semi-)public sex (if sex on a rooftop counts), swearing/cussing

Summary: Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge.

But there is a guardian angel with love who bears his burden gladly on lonely nights.

Even if it comes at the cost of her own heart.

Masterlist

Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge. However, the open-minded individuals who can see beneath the tough exterior will be met by a musical genius who is forced time and again to give up the sole reason to live.

Music.

The piano.

‘I don’t have a dream. Besides, what’s the point in having one?’ Those words have become a steady statement to make whenever the conversation turns to what can be done after leaving behind six good friends and dropping out of high school. Whether any help is needed, in any regard, because a girl ran away from home herself is more than knowledgeable in how hard it can be to survive without anything to fall back on.

Though eventually a safe haven was offered freely by the actual leader of our little band of troublemakers guarded by a mistress of lies, another runaway living in a train yard outside of town. 

Withal, tonight a new worrying addition is spoken after a habitual check-up text sent from Joon’s refurbished container after patching up Taehyung’s latest wounds inflicted by a raging drunk of a worthless father. The boy with the curious square smile stubbornly continues to hide the true cause of the physical and mental pain despite his fellow graffiti artist having hinted multiple times at wanting him to open up about the issue. Notwithstanding, it would seem the real cause of the harm will only be entrusted to the boys' confidante, the guardian angel helping tattooed aqua locks keep the rabble in line. 

For as far as that is possible. 

‘They take everything from the inside and throw it away.’

‘Who is they?’ Throat constricted by concern at this new detail, fingers stop combing through caramel locks finally fallen asleep after grunting through the medicinal care while precariously avoiding making eye contact with Monie. 

‘Everybody.’

‘I don’t, I would never. Neither would Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not!’ No response, the last text remaining to be noted as read. ‘Yoongi? 

‘Yoongi, answer me! You’re not gonna do anything stupid, you hear me?

‘Yoongi, please!’

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

‘Oh God.’ The exclamation comes out on a short breath, panic rapidly overtaking as thoughts refer to the past.

‘What?’ Namjoon looks up from designing a new piece of art to place somewhere on a bare city wall, an eyebrow curiously cocked.

‘I- I need to go.’ Gently, Tae is laid down on the mattress. Futilely, the unconscious boy tries to wrap arms around the upper legs to pin them where they are before moving away. They have to, because time has become precariously precious again. Hence, all that the sleeper gets is a quick platonic peck on the forehead. ‘Right now.’

‘What’s going on?’ The leader notices the distress, turning halfway on the worn seat and about to get up.

‘It’s Yoongi. He’s not responding anymore and I think I know why.’

Shredded paper, beautiful notes turned awry thanks to disregard by the public, compositions torn apart to be hauled through a shredder or be burned in the next fire leading to an arrest.

Scarlet.

Glistening metal. 

More silver lines added to the ever-expanding canvas on pale thin limbs.

‘Honestly, why doesn’t he just come here? We’ve both said multiple times he should.’ Honey digits remove the simple beanie to run through blue short strands, defeated in the wager as to why the pianist remains on the flight instead of retreating to the home we have created. 

Regardless of the severity weighing heavily on shoulders moving towards the door, a sympathetic smile can be managed to put Joon at least somewhat at ease. One person carrying the burden of Time is more than enough and if someone should be to blame for being too late, it should be the guardian angel. ‘Because he can’t see the point, the good it’ll do him. He doesn’t know he has a home.’

It should be me.

‘He’d rather see his dream burn than move in with us.’ A mutual deep sigh erases the only sign of comfort that can be given at the moment as a hand reaches towards the latch. ‘One of these days I’ll drag him here myself and just lock him in. It’ll be full house, but I’m sure we could figure something out.’

‘Good luck with that, Monie. I’d help, but I value my life. He’s a tiger. One that’s hopefully unharmed by the time I reach him.’ Because, once more, it are solely the black wings engraved into the back which know the truth while the rising bird is kept in the dark regardless of begging in silence for the last sliver of complete trust even telling of hardships they do not know about. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Gritting gravel surrounding neglected railways beneath open twilight gradually transforms into asphalt broken up by holes in the districts ruled by crime and smooth steady ways in good neighbourhoods forming the residence area of families of which the children will either become something akin to the grandness of a doctor or a nine-to-five, if not worse, office worker. And it is here the phone put into the pocket of the denim jacket buzzes, the screen lighting up thanks to a new message that is a blessing and a curse at the same time. ‘Not home. Ran away. Warehouse. Roof.’

‘When did you run?’ The answer might seem fairly obvious were it not for the memory of the first time created melodies were destroyed by the paper shredder and parents furiously yelled at the aspiring producer to actually go back to school and get a proper education.

A good life.

Meant for someone else.

Not for an artist.

These same bordeaux Puma sneakers stormed through the front door and up the stairs after mister Min opened up, about to ask who in their right mind came calling around midnight. Absolutely not giving a damn about the consequences and solely focused on reaching a familiar door hiding ignored hardship. 

Truth be told, none of us ever has.

Because we live.

Young, wild and free.

Or so we will, after all of us have escaped the judgmental cage created by a society looking down on creative souls trying to make a change. To leave a worthy legacy meant for generations to look back on and learn from. 

After feathers break free from the egg. 

But more than a single care was given upon warily approaching the figure in the secret studio least of all serving its original purpose of a bedroom, crawled away from the door to hide in the corner while clutching anxiously at freshly bleeding cuts. The knife was put aside, undeniably used and cruelly lying on the ground beside us.

Instead of directly speaking, we merely sat across from each other in a heavy hush wherein confidence was regained by calmly waiting for dark eyes to make contact. Which they eventually did, trembling bloody palms removing the white headphones given as a collective birthday present together with Joon and Hobi. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of knowing what was meant, locks nevertheless tilted to the side in feigned wonder because any direct reference to the difficult situation would lock the oppressed musician up immediately.

And invite the cruel blade upon leaving. 

‘For being so fucking worthless. For making you come all the way here, just to see this good-for-nothing criminal.’ Unjust cracks appeared evident in the barely composed raspy voice of salt-streaked tears. Crimson fingertips plucked at baggy clothes concealing the frame that had become ghastly thinner due to the stress placed upon young shoulders forced to see dreams burn over and over again. 

As always, helpless heavy-weighing playfulness was resorted to in the quiet hope of brightening the mood enough to break through the impenetrable walls which are always built when Yoongi is put down. ‘Shut up.’

Colourless irises, the passion sucked out of them until all they knew was how to cry, looked up in a sharp sneer. Or so it wanted to be, but could not due to an inner voice constraining the harshest negativity which turned the expression grave rather than judgemental. ‘It’s true, Y/N. You know it is.’

‘No, it’s not.’

A shift of subject made it more than clear the current topic did no longer serve any purpose, completely disregarding the smeared headphones and fresh cuts. Curiously, it changed to inquire about the well-being of the equally, albeit not to the same degrees, abused boy with whom often arguments were started merely because of being followed. Followed by the one who looked up to him, the rebel who will one day fully make the right decision and flee from beneath this harming roof permanently. ‘How’s Tae?’

A resigned sigh gave into the shift reluctantly, a tiny sliver of gladness spreading warmth throughout the limbs grown cold at the miserable sight and calming a rapidly beating heart unable to not worry about the wounds. ‘Bruised ribs, split lip, a cut on his cheek and an ugly bruise beneath the left eye.’

‘Please tell me he’s crashing at Namjoon’s.’

‘He is, as always. Mended for as far as possible and asleep.’

‘Good.’ Absently, as if drifting off into the forcefully created crumbled world once more, Yoongi nodded while repeating the confirmation under sharp breath. ‘That’s good.’

‘You, on the other hand, aren’t doing so great.’ It could not be helped, the dark carmine droplets staining ashen sweatpants creating hideous murky brown stains could not be ignored. Ugly yet alluring ghosts tempting the eye into being looked at. ‘You could have come to the train yard.’

The subtle suggestion resulted in the habitual denial of all help, any former softness sharpened like a dagger and flowing from a snarling tongue. ‘I’m fine. Just go.’

‘Where’s the first-aid kit?’ It had always been part of the dynamic, ignoring what the composer said in favour of a better outcome or serve as the company that was wanted but the wish of had never been explicitly stated. Withal, the guardian angel would triumph once more due to the trump card of iron determination, speaking in a tone that would not let anything of the pain due to the confrontation with self-destruction filter through. 

‘Go.’ Sullenness preceded, as per habit, the fierceness of the tiger beneath the skin. Stained fingers moulded into fists gripping at oversized clothes, trembling with rage but trying incredibly hard to contain it to not do something to regret in the second after rashness. 

‘Where?’ The characteristic raised sarcastic eyebrow was not appreciated, still only so on very few occasions nowadays. 

‘Just fucking go!’

The lashing out would have chased away any of the other guys, but not the girl merely scoffing at the show both minds knew was nothing except fakery. ‘Have it your way. I’ll look for it myself.’

As expected, it was stored away in the lower compartment of the bathroom sink adjacent to the small bedroom, thus leading to the swift return to a cherry-haired tiger meticulously observing every movement from a safe spot. Withal, without shrinking as if wanting to melt into the scenery. Instead, he stared on in wonder of the help coming to the rescue of both a friend and a precious bond.

‘Give me your arm.’ No response at first, even at the beckoning hand any other might mistake for being impatient yet was all but that. It was desperate, frightened to death by the flowing carmine. ‘Yoongi, arm.’

Despite not stating it outright, the mere act of putting it in the cross-legged lap calmly without grumbling said more than words could at the moment. Henceforth, a tense though comfortable hush descended while cleaning the wounds after disinfecting them, checking up on an expression continuously returning to stoicism with every hiss. 

Notwithstanding, in spite of missing the change betraying bodily hurt that by no means outweighed the mental burden of both parties, there was a fascinated warmth in irises drained of life time and again as digits bandaged the visible part of the damage up.

‘There, that’s better.’ Glad hands put down the first-aid kit as the last freshly carved scar had been concealed by ivory linen, sighing in calming relief. All in all, it did not take long to patch the musician up but the pressure of time flowing away made the instance appear longer than it really had. 

‘Why?’ Furrowed brows regarded the first step to physical healing, almost as if uncomprehending of how it would help. Of course, it would not aid mental stability but it did allow for the rescue of a soul who would have gone too soon.

‘Because we’re friends and I won’t let you fall. I’d never let you down.’ Trembling in hesitance, the palm of a barely recovered from the shock voice reached out to a pale cheek, the thumb languid in caressing the denied tears away. ‘You’re an incredible musician, Yoongi. No matter what anyone says or whether you believe me, it’s true. We, the guys and I, think so. No, we know so.’

‘You speak of them as if they’re my friends too.’ Had the genuine broken persona living beneath the skin of the rebel kicked out of school been unknown to the girl sitting across from him on the floor, the end would have happened right then and there. However, the opposite was the truth and thus the sneering tone was disregarded in favour of establishing at least a sliver of conviction of reality.

Something to believe in. 

Something to hold on to. 

‘They are. They disregard the fact you don’t contact them at all because, as I said, they know you’re going to make it big someday. They still continue to support you. None of them has forgotten about you.’ Lips pursed in careful contemplation, calculating the impact of each word which wanted to be said without angering the only temporarily subdued tiger. Eventually, such an argument was formed in good faith. ‘And you haven’t forgotten about them either because you wouldn’t have asked after Tae if you had.’

‘Still, you’re the only one here.’ A pale palm folded perfectly over the one on the salt-streaked cheek, the broken dreamer leaning gratefully into the touch with lashes fluttered shut and a voice as if drifting off into slumber. A blissful place away from cruel reality. Away from here. ‘You’ve always been.’

‘That’s not tr-’ The protest was cut short by an unexpected kiss, lips meeting in soft urgency. A whirlwind of emotions kicked up at the suddenness of the action, Reason and Fancy at war due to never having thought the tiger would do such a thing. 

Nor expect to hear a new level of despair in the whisper temporarily breaking up the kiss, sounding strange as it was caught between genuine clarity and relieved sobbing begging to not be left behind. ‘It is. Only you love me.’

Thus, the truly vicious cycle began of coming to the rescue both mentally and physically only to end up in the sheets to fully calm down. See to it Yoongi can rest easy even while one heart falls deeper and deeper into chaotic love.

It has been for the past two years of denial.

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

The only type of changing the meetings of scared hearts have undergone is a shift in location after the rebel dared to run away again the day Jungkook almost ended it all on the edge of the highest skyscraper.

Barely in time could the youngest of the chaotic band be rescued, the man like an older brother pulling the maknae by the back of an ivory and rose checkered blouse and holding on to the boy until both had regained enough breath after spilling tears of frustrated relief. After all, Yoongi had sworn during the last meeting with the entire group beneath a nightly sparkling spring sky to be a support pillar because he knows what living while feeling useless is like, vouching to do so while Kook rested on his shoulder. Through the high-rising flickering amber flames of the fire pit, the two seemed content at last.

For a little while, everything was okay.

We would be fine.

Would be.

But tonight, on the roof of the abandoned warehouse in the harbour where on the lower floor stands a dusty brown piano, we are not. The damaged knuckles and chafed skin beneath sullen irises tells of barely escaping another arrest after being kicked out a bar again and drunkenly searching for a fight, the scent of cigarettes indicating music has been burned again because the pieces were not good enough.

They never are.

Not to society.

But, to the girl approaching a wild tiger, they are everything.

Though the producer is blind to see it.

‘Yoongi?’ No reaction to the greeting comes as the heavy door to the roof closes and bordeaux Puma sneakers pad with a heavy heart over the asphalt still warm due to the day’s heat. They come to a halt a mere step away from the brooding tiger. ‘You never answered me over text and make me come all the way out here to get a response.’

‘Does it matter?‘ Without so much as a sideways glance, entwined damaged slender fingers maintain a steady melancholic gaze over the dark quiet waters of the harbour. A mocking grin tugs at the corners of the mouth but does not form completely, essentially as joyless as the denied dreamer.

 ‘It does! It fucking does!’

For once, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nothing.

‘To who, hm?’ At last, colourless irises grace a worried soul with a challenging look but at least attention is pulled enough to actually listen and not simply hear. 

‘To the guys.’ A palm slaps against a rapid beating heart in a constricted chest as lips tremble and a cracking voice rises in volume. ‘To me.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not. We care, Yoongi, all of us.’ The last bit of distance is breached as a hand naturally folds over a frozen shoulder clad in a military green jacket, resting there without being violently shrugged off. 

A sign of listening. 

And thus the argument is pursued on a calmer and more steady yet equally urgent tone. ‘What about Jungkook? You promised to be his supporting pillar. Taehyung is over at Joon’s again, beaten up by his dad and you know it hurts you. Just as much as it hurts us.’ 

Upper arms are enveloped as briefly locked gazes break up, ashen strands hanging low in stubborn ignoring of the guardian angel crouching in front of them. ‘Us, Yoongi. The Bangtan Boys and me. Our family.’

‘I have no family. They were the first to destroy it all.’ Regardless of being unable to see it, lips are undoubtedly pursed in a fight to prevent new tears from falling. Woven digits tremble in barely suppressed crimson nicotine anger, vision blurring with tormenting memories of refusal. 

‘But we build it up together, didn’t we? You know you aren’t-’

‘Shut up.’ An arm lashes out to undo any contact, the impact of the action causing a fall backwards. Nothing but agonizing exhaustion radiates off the snarl on the handsome face that has become loved as more than a mere friend. 

Even while it extorts another for pleasure.

A means to forget.

It means nothing. 

‘I’m tired of speaking. Tired of thinking. We both know where this goes anyway.’ Each sentence is accentuated by a firm demanding kiss sealing off any chance of protest after being roughly helped onto two unsteady feet, the tables turned as it now are the arms of somebody trying to help which are grabbed tightly. 

Held dear and cherished in an incomprehensible manner.

But it is better than nothing. 

‘We can’t keep doing this.’ Had this been pure desire, the shape pressing hotly against the thigh would have been appreciated in a whole different way. Interpreted in a manner not remotely close to the reality of us because it is not sensual wanton craving.

It is pent-up frustration coming to a boiling point.

Fruitless.

A wandering ghost.

A heap of ashes. 

‘Shut up.’ The hands creating an abyss by pushing against a sturdy chest are given other purpose. Nevertheless, the meaning of the distance remains: foolishly to be able to be filled with sincerity. 

One hand is placed on the hip and the other below, simulating a laughable imitation of actual craving as another kiss adds to the poor fancy. ‘Just do what you’re told for once.’

Lips connect once more in saltwater carrying broken wishes and all the dreams that cannot be because of emotions warring with ideals, the correct way of life stained by nicotine and the sharp yet sweet tang of cheap soju. 

Trembling fingers envelop damaged cheeks as slender musically gifted hands tug at the edge of pants, beckoning them to lie down before undoing the belt fastening bleached ripped jeans only to be warmly welcomed again by the palms that only get to hold the face they love in this repeated loveless lovemaking. Knowing the impatience of the tiger, any restrictions to allowing the heated wantonness pressed against the thigh earlier have been removed before wiping away returned tears and lovingly caressing ashen brown locks.

Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t mean anything. It’s just a means of comfort.

Everything is familiar, a piece of the past tainted by crimson and smoke to cling to. 

The warmth spreading throughout as separate souls effortlessly become one, unprotected in wordlessness and thus letting actions say all that tongues cannot. 

The speed of snapping hips, uncaring about pleasure and merely wanting to fuck the pain away. 

The agony of the tug on each tendon keeping the heart inherently belonging to the occasional groan breaking through heavy breaths whispering into the side of the neck. 

The urban scent of cigarettes, ashes and blood.

The possessive iron-like grip on the waist, desperate to be grounded in the moment or simply an anchor into this world while the mind it belongs to tries to flee.

The chase after temporary oblivion together, though one soul remains a step behind to not frighten the other into love.

After all, it has no meaning.

None of this.

It is a ghost we keep.

Preventing us from finding happiness together.

The chance to hear three simple words spill at least once before or after a troubled mind finds brief peace in the arms of the woman he said, no, knows loves him. Nevertheless, Yoongi cannot return the affection.

Cruelly, the hope remains even while lying on the warm concrete, the heat seeping through dishevelled clothes covering the upper part of the body, and embracing the musical genius drifting somewhere in a pleasant ignorant limbo. The same state of being that lashes turned to a beautiful sparkling sky did not reach again and never will during these meetings. Still, it is not minded for this is a more meaningful type of contentment.

Simply lying here among the ashes. 

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

[quitblow5-blog]

‘For artists, work ethic and intelligence are just as important as talent.’

Scroll through the blue-ticked Instagram accounts of most major-league US music executives, and you’ll tend to find the same old schtick: images of their artists playing career-boosting stages; flattering snaps of their newly decked-out office; a smattering of vacation/weekend shots accidentally-on-purpose showcasing that sleek second home in the Hills.

Mike Caren’s Insta feed, however, offers a little something more – a little something indicative of the inquisitive mind of the man himself. A swift perusal of Caren’s page throws up graphs, charts and textual provocations covering themes like ‘10 trends that will reshape the music industry’, how fast TV watching is declining amongst Millennials, the average ages of social media use in 2019, and the ‘share of ear’ that radio claims amongst US consumers over 13.

This all fits because Caren, as well as being obsessive about the A&R process, is also obsessive about media trends, and how consumption of everything from HBO to Fortnite and Instagram are munching into the daily music habits of today’s teenagers.

Such compulsive attention to detail is serving Caren’s businesses well. The Beverly Hills-raised exec founded Artist Publishing Group back in 2006, followed by the launch of Artist Partner Group in 2013. Warner Music Group and Atlantic Records, with whom Caren has worked for more than 20 years, injected a multi- million dollar investment into APG three years ago.

Since then, APG, which now employs more than 40 staff, has developed and broken stars including Bazzi, Charlie Puth, Kehlani, Kevin Gates and NBA Youngboy, as well as an electric array of songwriters such as Hitmaka, Yung Berg, Amy Allen and Madison Love.

Most recently, Los Angeles-based APG unleashed Ava Max, who hit No.1 in many territories this year including the UK, Sweden, and Germany with international smash “Sweet But Psycho”.

Caren began his career aged 17 with Atlantic Records, and later served as Co-President – alongside John Janick – of the relaunched Elektra Records (Bruno Mars, Ed Sheeran, Cee Lo Green) between 2009 and 2012.

MBUSA recently sat down with Caren within APG’s Fairfax studio complex to ask him all about his A&R philosophy, and where he sees the future of multimedia going in the next few years…

Tell us a truism about the music industry.

So much of what moves the needle in this business is just about listening – really listening. When a label or publishing exec has a 60 minute meeting with a producer or songwriter, once you’ve caught up with each other, you’re already 30 minutes into it, and only then do you start listening to music.

That leaves you 25 minutes to listen, and consider eight to 10 ideas. Then the meeting is over – and you haven’t even cracked the surface. If you’d allowed for 90 minutes of music, you would probably have found something really special.

So for that last 20 minutes, I might ask you to [hand over] everything you haven’t played me – whether you think I might or might not like it. Then I’m actually going to listen to it all and hear the stuff that other people don’t get to.

You employ more than 40 people at APG, and you’re expanding. Can you actively keep the roster here capped at certain size?

Yes. We started in the publishing world, where I felt that one A&R executive couldn’t really have a high impact on every one of their writers unless they were limited to approximately 10 writers.

I noticed that at most of the major publishing companies, when I talked to executives, their personal roster would be over 50 writers. I found it hard to believe that they would be able to deliver something significant for every writer with that roster size. Records is about a smaller amount of artists, but it’s also about building teams.

People with different perspectives, different skill sets all working together, learning from each other and bringing different things to the table. I work with people that have so much passion and intelligence and determination. This company is a sum of those parts. There’s 40 people here that have the impact of 150.

What would you say is the defining A&R philosophy of APG?

We believe that work ethic and intelligence are just as important as talent. A smart and hardworking creative will keep improving whereas someone without that work ethic or vision might creatively just tread water, or even decline in their quality.

“We work with [talent] for days, weeks or even months before we sign a deal.”

The biggest thing is getting to know writers and artists personally. We work with them for days, weeks or even months before we sign a deal. We will often lose a deal because somebody – after working with APG – is rushed elsewhere in the industry by a bidding war or whatever. And if that happens, it’s okay. It wasn’t meant to be.

Why is getting to know artists properly so important to you?

Ideally, you want to enter a relationship that’s a decade or decades- long. You can marry the first person you kiss, but I think it’s better to go on more dates and ask a lot of questions to see if your vision of the future is aligned. When you have tough conversations upfront, it leads to better conversations for years to come.

Give us an example of a tough conversation with an artist.

Those conversations revolve around expectations, timeline, patience, vision. I love artists that have huge goals and who know several moves they want to make to get there – who aren’t expecting to make it all in one single play. I love songwriters turning into artists too, because they’ve had this passenger seat in other artists’ careers to which they’ve contributed. The writer-turned-artist has seen other artists making tough decisions, and what the results were, which helps them avoid their own mistakes and pitfalls.

“If you just try to protect artists from making those mistakes, it doesn’t help, because when they become very successful, they will ultimately take all the big decisions; your job is to prepare them to make great ones.”

APG is the best at amplifying, investing in and turbo-charging artists who have a lot of ideas. And the best ideas always come from artists. It’s always better to let an artist make a mistake, because when a smart artist makes a mistake, they learn from it. If you just try to protect artists from making those mistakes, it doesn’t help, because when they become very successful, they will ultimately take all the big decisions; your job is to prepare them to make great ones. You can’t shelter talent early on, then expect people to act like an experienced artists when they’re successful.

How do you feel about the number of songwriters behind the majority of hits today?

The other day somebody sent me a video with Bob Marley, One Love and said, ‘What an incredible song and songwriter.’ I said, ‘Yeah, Curtis Mayfield was a fricking genius.’ They said, ‘Are you kidding? That song was written by Bob Marley!’ It’s a co-write. Curtis Mayfield and Bob Marley. And if Bob Marley can co-write, anyone can co-write.

One defining modern A&R trend is that of collaboration. Two people from largely different genres cross-pollinating fan bases. What do you make of that trend, and does it ever concern you?

I saw an exhibit of Picasso and Matisse years ago. They were friends and they did interpretive pieces of each other’s work. Their artistry was so clear when they did so. Anything that allows someone to demonstrate creativity and originality is an amazing vehicle – but the song [has to be] organic and creative.

Why did you started APG in the first place?

First, I had been working as an A&R person at Atlantic for 10 years. Having been in one company for so long, I wanted a different experience and I wanted an entrepreneurial experience.

I built a lot of trust at Atlantic, so they allowed me to create a partnership venture with them. But I operated it independently, and I love to experiment. Every session is an experiment; every marketing idea is an experiment; every day here is about experimentation.

“I had this philosophy, this is 15 years ago, that songwriters and producers are artists in their own right.”

And second, I had this philosophy, this is 15 years ago, that songwriters and producers are artists in their own right – and that a publisher could publish their songs and get them paid, but could also treat them as an artist and A&R them in that way, providing the introductions, the insights, and the resources that labels provide to artists.

It was a learning process because I didn’t know about publishing, and I didn’t have the budget to chase hits, so we had to be bold.

Why is so much A&R focused entirely on the new – the thrill of ‘breaking’ something?

Out of anything in this business, I get the most satisfaction from seeing other people with their first big successes: their first hit song; their first platinum record; their first sold out tour; their first song on the radio.

Every time a new artist, a new writer has an experience like that, it’s contagious. To me, that’s more powerful than congratulating someone on their fifth of sixth platinum album. It’s an honor to make music – it’s exciting and it’s an adventure.

I’m really proud of the artists and writers that have been successful, but I’m just as proud of the executives. That goes for the team here, but also people that have previously worked or interned here and moved on. I root for their success.

“Every time a new artist, a new writer has an experience like that, it’s contagious.”

Right now, I’m in awe of A&R moves from Miles Beard (pictured), Jeff Vaughn, Tizita Makuria, Eli Picarretta, Edgar Machuca, Matt MacFarlane, Lisa Mottahedeh, David Phung, and Dan Snyder, all of whom landed their first A&R roles here – several starting as interns or assistants – and all of whom have signed Gold or Platinum artists or writers, or had hits this year.

But I’m also thrilled to see fast career growth and broadening responsibility from vets that joined us such as Elyse Rogers, Angie Pagano, Mike Mathewson, Olly Sheppard, Jessica Kelm, and the list can go on. Fifteen years in, I look around and see our team members thriving, and people who’ve cut their teeth with us at pretty much every label, from A&R Executive to Chairman.

APG takes a white label approach with its artists – your brand is kept on the sidelines. Why?

We’re too broad to create a single, forward-facing brand. The great labels that I love had, and continue to have today, sonic consistency. They had a cultural voice and a specific niche, with a sound or a through line.

I lean in to creative people; we’re not going to not sign an artist just because they don’t fit in with other artists on our roster, or not work with an executive because they’re a certain type. There are no rules and no limitations to who APG works with. We just want to work with people for whom we can deliver more than anyone else out there.

Also, I love our entrepreneurial artists and I don’t want to take away from their opportunity to build their brand – both their artist brand and their company brand. I love it when an artist’s dreams include everything from festivals to clothing to charitable organizations. If I can help build an artist’s brand, it’s one more resource that we��re providing that I don’t think many others offer.

What makes a good artist manager?

One, they have to have enough experience to know that everything changes every year. Two, they have to listen to their artist but also speak the truth to them. And, of course, work ethic and intelligence are so important – especially the work ethic, because managers have to provide an example for their artist. Great managers are also great communicators; people who bring people together.

“there’s this ‘Napster Gap’, as I call it, 2002 to 2014, where only a few people invested into the business, and only a few people got hired – so there was not as much opportunity for mentorship for a lot of people versus what had come before.”

It’s a weird time for the music business because there’s so much opportunity now. But there’s also this ‘Napster Gap’, as I call it, 2002 to 2014, where only a few people invested into the business, and only a few people got hired – so there was not as much opportunity for mentorship for a lot of people versus what had come before. There are some incredible managers out there who are just so smart, and had to learn the game on their own.

The head of Netflix, Reed Hastings, said earlier this year that Fortnite was a bigger competitor to his company than traditional rivals like HBO. What do you make of the idea that other media is stealing attention from artists and music?

It’s something I think about a lot. I heard about something recently that said that Americans have over 11 hours a day of media consumption because of how much multitasking they do – like how they will play video games while listening to music. Their consumption is literally doubling.

I see incredible opportunity there, because if you work in the music business and you’ve never played Fortnite, you’re going to fall a few steps behind.

“If you work in the music business and you’ve never played Fortnite, you’re going to fall a few steps behind.”

How Fortnite makes its money is worth thinking about: the short windows of items being for sale; the opening for other platforms [as the game can be played across different devices]; the live events; how [Epic Games] updates and changes the game’s dynamic to keep things so exciting. There are so many amazing things to learn from it.

As far as competing in media, there’s going to be huge L.A. production competition. You have Netflix, Apple, Amazon, Hulu, Spotify and a bunch of other companies with endless amounts of money going to go into content production. It’s going to mean a whole new competition for creative talent, and it will be interesting. It could be incredible for talent – and it will definitely fortify L.A. as the creative capital of the world.

How do you counter that with the value of labels?

There’s no one-size-fits-all, right? Some people love business. Some people love managing people and administration. Some people love to be creative. Some people can do all of those things together. And there are some people who are just true artists who want to color outside the lines and break rules. They don’t want any of the administrative burden. They don’t want to reconcile tours, or deal with Social Security or 401ks, you know?

Some of that’s to do with different points in your life. You may be young; you may want to have fun and be creative and break the rules and not deal with turnover and all of these things. And later in your life, you may want to be more stationary and operate a company and a business. People just need to know what things entail.

“Staying independent is probably the right thing for a lot of artists and it’s probably the wrong thing for a lot of artists.”

There are an increasing number of artist managers who now say that running an independent operation for an artist isn’t ‘management’ – it’s a business partnership, so it shouldn’t be 15 or 20% commission, it should be 50% across everything, including touring. And that all depends on how much of an artist’s business is just music – whether they need a manager who’s just doing music, or managing several businesses.

Staying independent is probably the right thing for a lot of artists and it’s probably the wrong thing for a lot of artists. It all has to do with individual ambition, and how you actually want your 16 to 20 waking hours to be spent.

In an age awash with A&R data, how do you feel about the reduction in signings based purely on based on gut instinct?

I love data… partly because so much of the major label business is focused on it, which leaves all this open territory for us. But, also, I will say data can definitely show more than just momentum, it can reveal a pool of artists who didn’t wait for anyone to move their career forward, who got out of bed every day and worked hard to move the needle.

Somebody can tell me they’re going to work hard all day long, but an artist that had no resources that went out and built some fans? That’s someone you know wants it. I’ll never discount that, as work ethic is so essential.

Where do you get your work ethic from?

My mom’s creative. My dad’s organized. I love this job – this isn’t work, look how soft my hands are! The worst part of my job is sitting waiting for someone to show up who’s late. That’s it! And nowadays, I can always fill those hours by listening to music anyway.

I’m very sure you could have capably run an established major label group. Contemporaries like John Janick are doing it…

He’s awesome.

Why did you choose to build something from scratch, rather than run a big frontline label during this period of your career?

I don’t think anyone ever offered me a job that had the freedom that I now enjoy as an entrepreneur. As an industry, we need to empower people and trust them. There’s always a lot of oversight and structure in majors – and it’s probably needed. But now, we’re facing an ever-evolving future, we have to experiment and to do R&D.

“Change is inevitable. Change is good. But you have to try things in order to figure out what works with change.”

Change is inevitable. Change is good. But you have to try things in order to figure out what works with change. It’s inevitable that artists are going to change the way they make music and market music – and anyone who clings on to the past will get left behind. I love nostalgia like anyone else; we can still tell great stories of the good old days, but we have to be open to try new things all the time.

Let’s talk about the future, then. What are you excited about?

We are a very de-centralized company; I’m trying my absolute best to build the most entrepreneurial organization possible. I want everyone here to think like entrepreneurs, and to make decisions. I choose to run this company differently from, say, the way the legendary Clive Davis ran Arista. He’s incredible, but I hear he personally approved every piece of art and every mix.

Again, just like the artists here, everyone should be making decisions, seeing the results and learning from them. I want every executive I work with to feel that their career grew twice as fast in this organization than it did anywhere else.

What’s going to change at APG over the next five years?

We’re trying to reorganize the entire approach to being a global company. Many major labels don’t seem like singular global companies; they’re a bunch of companies, around the world, that license to each other. Spotify is a global company; they have editors in different offices, but they are a global company.

That’s something we’re a couple of steps ahead on and I don’t think it will take five years. I think it will happen way before then.

The above interview originally appeared in Music Business USA – MBW’s new annual magazine featuring some of the smartest people, with the best stories, in the Stateside music industry.

Subscribe to MBW’s premium bundle to ensure you never miss one our physical magazines in future. Click through here to find out how.Music Business Worldwide

Source: https://www.musicbusinessworldwide.com/for-artists-work-ethic-and-intelligence-are-just-as-important-as-talent/

[cosmicangel888]

How to Create a NEW REALITY ~ 3D-5D

When you focus on raising your vibration, you attract raised experiences. ~~~~ UNDERSTANDING UNIVERSAL LIFE, LAW, LOVE

time, resources, energy, light, creativity - life without creativity is impossible - it is always available and only is a perspective of what, where you vibrate

Life is all choice; beliefs, perspective, vibration, response to all that is energy - positive, neutral or negative - it is the blessing of and from Creators of all life; you choose it all

Do you respond to life from your wounding; most do, patterns, habits, and getting, taking, competing; the key is to go within and nourish what you think you are competing for, against

All is the Divine; energy, truth, light;

Spirit knows all - the effort of love, pure joy, naturally flowing with life, honouring, allowing; all is the lesson of a great life, to love yourself, honour yourself; uplift & bless it all; this is mastery

Make no mistake,God is the designer; all of life, slighting of what was, no one, no entity, controlling of outcome or agenda, will always be overturned by Spirit; Heal the wounds that create reaction and control of whatever and whoever

Spirit will show you karma immediately to the length and equal to & let go of what you think you are in power of;

Reclaim your power; God within, beyond the beyond©

There are no obstacles - the only obstacle is that which you allow

Blessings and light

Joanna

The Daughter of God

I Am that I Am ~~~ those that have chosen to be the catalyst to place whatever blocks, spells, distractions, the time, energy you spend to block me, is what you are not spending within you - what a shame for that is what you are truly looking for;

There never was a race, competition, and you all know what level of love you send out, fear, anger, hate, and such be it is the reality you experience - for it is all your creation - and spirit sees, knows all.

Take ownership of this gift of life, you are not the driver of any other path, life, other than you - Spirit will show you - heal the wounds;

Jealousy, envy, is a shadow wound of not feeling enough, lack of sense of self, lack of love, lack of honour, self love, and when you can go within, re-write your life, past, now, you get it, and release all you think others have something over you and you must take it; or place suffering, failing upon another, harm or blasphemy to make yourself feel grand for a moment yet the energy will return; you are living within a cycle of your own creation - not all will want to continue such harm and abuse; those that call themselves a spiriutalist, and master and choose to take money and place harm on behalf of others, are not understanding Creation, God, Life of order in light, and all will have to serve their own part in the harm and destiny trashing of any other - awaken brothers and sisters - you are creating your own opportunities; opportunity for destruction, or loving Oneness - you are choosing it all - for you have been shown, told, for literally years - I am a seer, I am a creative genius, I am a creator and crystalline angel; who are you - go within and be of love© 

The angels, your guides, your teams, your God, Creators have shown each of you - to stop bullying, trying to throw me, other lightworkers, all are meant to go within and heal what you think you are the 'power of' and not living or honouring the light of One; is our journey here - to repair, to uplift, to heal all that is separation - spells to manage, control, harm, take, greed and selfish agendas is the work of the healing - If you choose - it is all choice - you are as loved as I am; so be it, or not - leave the innocent alone, go within, you will not or cannot claim access, entitlement, glory of what you have not created; what sits before you is your creation; my work is my passion, my energy, my vibration; the same message for 12 yrs - truth is truth; God will support what is truth; One and love of passion - joy of the sacred child, joy;

The tasks done to throw me, thwart me, harm me; doctor pictures, video's, blasphemy, lies of me, deceit, when all I have been solitary on my own with spirit creating my work you take and call your own or want credit for; as you laugh and belittle me, you take credit for it;

Spirit is spirit, spirit is the essence of all life and I can see, speak, teach it, offer it for the benevolence of humanity - the beliefs within each are the sacred path - to alter or live within illusions that 'fear, greed, competition, there is no spirit or God beyond the beyond'

My work is my work, I can speak on it unending for this is my passion; I have created hundreds of books through my work, online, social platforms, for it is my passion, those copy paste, cannot speak on it for is the flow of spirit; when it awakens in you, it is all you can do - there is a difference, all will know, can be seen as plain as day - VIBRATION IS EVERYTHING - why all must at some point, regardless of the fancy spells, and acts of underground crime is caused to hold back those that simply ache to uplift and help; all must see and know what resides within - you create it all; That is truth my friends; own it and start creating something for the ALL;

It will return - I will not buy into lesser stories or those that show up and entitle themselves to my work, my channelling, or success that they had nothing to do with but be the pain, suffering to inspire me to walk away and heal from - you all know and spirit knows the part each played and such will be the reward - this is the way of it;

There is for those that choose it; belief or not, you will, all will return; that is Universal Law -

Joannacosmicangel@yahoo.com

Can we all simply live as One now - I deserve to receive, regardless of what your selfish plans to take, make me look bad, or crazy, I know spirit and spirit will always lift me; for what I say, speak, create will be the steps of ascension and path of light you will walk through when you awaken - this is the role of light workers - we pave the way and not all of what we offer will make sense to closed minds, and hardened hearts - but that is the work, for those that so desire.

Take true and honouring claim of who you truly are and mature beyond 'getting back at another simply because they have figured something out' - for last lifetime it was you and you have all had your time with my money, credit, that was giving you your upliftment, your resources, rewards that were unearned, you all received, while I lived in poverty continue to show up; I am deserving of receiving - all women, children, elderly, nature, animals.

I am that I am, speech and knowing, I offer my light unconditionally for humanity and for Gaia, all will be at the vibration and intention and that my brothers and sisters will be evident and sensed in all life;

tune in, awaken, take claim of your choices, actions, and behaviour for it is your reality - you can change it.

God is God, beyond the beyond, soft, loving and gentle, with the myriad of stories, parables, videos channels, blogs and posts of such, it may be timely to simply go within and love; towers are not necessary, nor is the harming of another - for it is your wound, your inner child that is aching your attention - serve it well and lovingly.

Amen in our oneness -

I am worthy of what I am becoming, creating, receiving - so too are you, may you choose love, light, forgiveness, and compassion for yourself, it is really all there is,

Joanna

(the real deal)

I have not given any permissions for my image, picture, of any video that is not of ascension, or human potential teachings, and / or for any of my work, my books, my teachings to be taught or offered by anyone - nor have I been paid, or given credit - any making of me, or image, or teaching not from me is of not my vibration; discern & contact me if so - JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

[fictioncareercreativity]

September 2, 2018 Creative Fiction Storytelling by Stella Carrier

Creative Fiction Storytelling Idea for me To try by September 2, 2018 andor sooner by Stella Carrier September 2, 2018 Creative Fiction Storytelling by Stella Carrier It is the year 2093 and I Lucas Haas am speaking from an afterlife world that is a celestial part of Canada though I have the freedom to choose where to reside even the type of celestial worlds that I have found myself as of 52 days ago. I am told that I easily resemble the lead singer of Saving Abel in the Addicted music video. I am easily allowed to communicate with people I have known in my earth life. However, I have discovered that the reason why sometimes some earth people try to contact friends andor family and it takes a while to reach them has little to do with how much they mutually miss their family members  and more because of how much busier things become in their afterlife. For instance, I only had 2 family members besides my spouse and 8 friends who I was close to who were there for me during my earth life through both my challenging and good times. However I was pleasantly surprised to discover a group of over 530 male and female spirits greeting me less than 10 minutes after I transitioned from my earth life to the heavenly realms that I now reside in. I am going to be learning from 3 of my celestial spirit guides in a pink mountain school how to help earth based spirits tap into and strengthen their intuition both in their sleeptime dreams and in their waking life. I am also going to preside over mystery schools both being open up on earth and here in the celestial realms that teach many male and female spirits how to integrate their storytelling passions both with their sleeptime dreams and connections with their higher selves/celestial spirit allies and imagining how their lives would be in heaven and how that pertains to their akashic records, opening up to their imagination abilities while integrating the energy of both critics and allies into building them into a wiser and more powerful being, and utilizing certain tools such as their favorite songs, music, books, interests etc. in helping them uncover some of the messages of their most creative and self confident selves that their souls are encouraging them to uncover. What Do I Mean By This; A 45 year old Married female working for the military who was a friend of mine unexpectedly played romantic matchmaker to a 48 year old military public affairs officer female and a male in the culinary industry. This military public affairs officer female  was also related to a  46 year old coworker that the 45 year old female was training and getting along with well. The 45 year old female was recently traveling to a heaven based replica world of Canada in her dreams at a writing university for some intuition research when she caught a female she knew in waking life from  entering her sleeptime dreams by trying to use the identity of two other females she knew in waking life. As her intuition and sleeptime dream celestial guide I asked her to avoid revenge on this female spirit and take it as a sign from her higher self that regardless of how she is publicly perceived that she is just needs to understand and be reminded that she is just as intelligent and capable of soaring to great success in her life just as the female spirit being sly with using other female identities. The 45 year old married female wanted to give this female a piece of her mind and confront her in her sleeptime dreams for even daring to enter what she considers the unbridled and unlimited freedom of her sleeptime worlds many which are heaven based and life on other happy worlds. I had to explain to the 45 year old female that she is going to be happier sooner and for the long term if she lets this female be regardless of how tempting it is to confront her because one of her spirit guides wanted to borrow this sly crafty female to remind the 45 year old female that regardless of how she is judged in waking life that she simply needs to continue to work on the growing of her genius abilities and intuition to increase them in waking life and pretty soon her efforts are going to positively pay of in spades, positive dividends within 11 years or less from now. The sly female was being crafty because she figured out that the female being on to her identity meant that other females who she did the same too would soon also see and notice what she did which would indirectly affect innocent males and females allied with this sly female. Additionally, the sly female intuitively realized that by targeting the 45 year old female that she unexpectedly opened the door for even prettier andor craftier/smarter rivals and females to enter/come in abundant numbers in both of their (the 45 year old married matchmaker female and the sly female)worlds (earth both professional and personal as well as sleeptime). The matchmaker female intuitively understands why this needs to be allowed to happen but the sly female needs more time to accept that memo. In order to heal that karma i showed the 45 year old matchmaker married female a special intuition school inside an orange and purple mountain that also integrates music into the lessons. I also intuitively gave both females a snapshot of how I lived the last year of my most recent earth lifetime in order to help them understand ways to be both a high functioning career person as well as a spiritual person who focuses on creating heaven on earth. I had extreme career success and excitement in my career life such as I was a food service employee who eventually became a cook and then a chef through extensively volunteering for 4 years. I volunteered to help cater food in California, England, Switzerland, Iceland, Germany, Washington D.C., Virginia, Maryland, Florida, Canada, France, Italy, Hong Kong, Tokyo Japan, and Singapore. For instance in Virginia, a theater company decided to do a play based on the Give it To You music video by Jordan Knight at a theme park that opened in Virginia Beach Virginia by the year 2091. I was asked to both help set up a party and food for an after party towards the end of the play season-5 months after the play premiered where over 5000 people showed up. I was also part of over 160 men and women who helped to help set up catering and party festivities for over 43 leaders who decided to hold convention events across various parts of the U.S. for museums and libraries over a half mile wide opening across the U.S. complete with train subway stations that connected men and women across various states even rural areas that opened up more opportunities even for men and women who were still trying to save up for cars. In the year 2092, I also had the chance to cater dinners and parties on the side in various parts of Scandinavia as more theme parks and malls opened in this area from the months of July to December. The remaining months I would travel across America to help serve food to cast members and people of various films who were making movies based on universities and cooking across various parts of the U.S. More universities were being built with campgrounds featuring allowing over 5000 people in the warmer U.S. states and outside during the summer time. During the winter time andor in warmer states campgrounds that could hold up to ten thousand people would be built inside buildings either inside andor near malls with the option of camp goers renting aircraft looking trailer parks, traditional trailer parks, tents with inside air conditioning and heating, homes plus more types of campground instructions. The aircraft carrier looking trailer parks are at least a half mile wide and are cheaper than the others to deal with competition that also comes from private businesses in modest socio income neighborhoods who experienced a business boom from also starting campground businesses because of the number of businesses that also proliferated there. However, on a positive note demand for chefs, cooks, and food service employees went up in these communities as many campgoers wanted food cooked for them as they enjoy the camping experience and activities that have also proliferated in great numbers such as various writing, psychic development, even various other types of classes such as art appreciation and other types of classes pertaining to resources of the community and so much more. For instance, a campground in College Park Maryland that can hold up to 9000 people offers 525 different classes, a campground in Virginia Beach Virginia that can hold up to 11000 people offers up to 900 classes, and a newly build campground in Mclean Virginia near the Tysons Corner Center mall that can hold up to 8800 people offers 1000 different classes and 70 different activities such as storytelling retreats, cooking contest camps, and travel exhibition fair conventions retreats where countries from around the world feature virtual reality centers for campgoers-the Iceland, Canada, Washington State from the addition of a 2 mile museum, France, and Scotland from the addition of a 2 mile Harry Potter museum were among the popular campground centers just inside the camp. The campgrounds are often at least 5 miles long andor greater to allow campgoers to pay more for privacy. The things I can tell you from what I have seen would make multiple early 2000s R rated movies seem tame and even some of the scenes I have scene of two consenting adults engaged in certain acts across the campground also tame because of who they are. What Do I Mean by this before I conclude this session because one of my male celestial spirit guides has a book for me to look at pertaining to some of the culinary festivals and people I am to inspire as a male celestial spirit guide; Well, the last six months of my life I had the exciting opportunity to help set up a reenactment You Make Me Feel by Annagrace complete dance scene and all inside one of the campgrounds at a location within the U.S. I must keep discreet partially also because that same day the Bon Appetit music video by Katy Perry reenactment took place within the same camp and both events employed over 500 people and involved over 48 people in both reenactments. I had to go back to my car to get some money to try some food from a tree shaped eatery that opened within this particular camp during the intermission of Bon Appetit and You Make Me Feel when I saw a popular female celebrity hugging a tree in one of the more popular yet at the same time more private campground areas, it was less the hugging of the tree that was the shocking part, it was more the identity of the famous celebrity that I saw pressing himself up behind her and yes I looked away before I could see more because I had just seen him pictured with a 49 year old U.S. Navy Captain daughter of a popular U.S. Navy Master Chief  (E-9)less than 2 hours before as the wife of the famous celebrity male pressing himself against the celebrity female holding the tree. They were doing their renewal of vows at this camp having been successfully married for over 22 years. Granted her husband was not bound by the same rules as his wife because he is a well liked and popular civilian who works in the culinary industry. However, I preferred to mind my own business during my most recent earth lifetime after seeing this more than just because of my career reputation yet also for practical, intuitive, and wise reasons. Resources Storytelling Idea for me To try by September 2, 2018 andor soonerCreative fiction storytelling ideaA Chef andor Cook in the Afterlife shares the fun they had also catering dinners and parties on the sideThe year is 2142 and they are training to be a spirit guide to some employees in the culinary industry in the areas of Scandinavia for the first 6 months of the year January to June, and certain regions in America July to December. They main job involved culinary and their volunteering involved helping to cook andor create food for parties andor events.Other employees both within the culinary field and other areas were also inspired to develop their social skills.This cook, food service employee andor chef did the majority of work andor volunteering for parties andor events in their free time during much of their time in the U.S. However they also traveled to other parts of the world for their friends in the military and their federal government employee friendsThe chef cook andor food service employee also recalls connections from their earth life and how that influenced their afterlife.Some resources for me to considerhttps://charleston.eater.com/2018/8/1/17640158/chef-sean-brock-nashvillehttp://www.collegeparkgrill.com/menushttp://www.ign.com/articles/2018/08/23/the-last-ship-season-5-trailer resources inspired by my heavenly husband Rusty Ridler's part Austrian heritage https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/austrian-names.php songs for me Stella Carrier to keep in mind; Strange Love by Depeche Mode, Lovesong by the Cure, Something In the Way You Move by Ellie Goulding, Automatic Lover by Real McCoy

[crazy4tank]

Couture USA Team Profile Series: Assistant Retail Manager Amber Patrick

New Post has been published on https://fashiondesigne.com/2021/01/05/couture-usa-team-profile-series-assistant-retail-manager-amber-patrick/

Couture USA Team Profile Series: Assistant Retail Manager Amber Patrick

Fashion USA Team Profile Collection: Assistant Retail Manager Amber Patric

Home › Blog › Couture USA Team User profile Series: Assistant Retail Manager Ruby Patrick

In the high-class designer resale world, it really is no longer enough to provide customers with their fashion designer needs. A great sales associate always aims to “wow” clients simply by exceeding expectations and offering them with designer products over and above what they thought they may require. Couture USA  Assistant  Assistant manager,   Amber Patrick, knows the power of exceptional customer care and has served Couture UNITED STATES clients for many years. “Before We joined Couture USA , I put a solid experience in customer support and once worked in a big fashion retail company for 2 years. I have always been enthusiastic in helping people shop mainly because I love to shop myself, therefore i took a chance and attacked a career in fashion retail, inch Patrick says. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she has produced professionally as, she not just followed her passion, yet has also built enduring relationships with Couture USA customers. In this latest Q-and-A user profile highlighting the Couture UNITED STATES team, Patrick shares the style lessons she has learned, the particular shopping trends she has observed and how she helps construct relationships and help the girl customers.  

My style is promoting so much in the past few years. I have always liked a little advantage in my wardrobe but it offers definitely toned down because I’ve gotten older. Our go-to look is a natural leather jacket or band t-shirt with a fun floral dress and sneakers or booties!

Eye Apfel. Aside from the fact that the girl personality is larger than lifetime, I love how she sees her quirky fashion sense and it is unafraid to mix and match up high-end fashion pieces along with thrifty finds. She enhanced the art of stacking accessories and not shies away from stylishly sketching attention to herself by wearing vibrant colors. Above all, I love just how she hasn’t allowed the girl age to change her exclusive fashion sense; instead, she commemorates it with every declaration piece she wears.  

My 1st designer splurge was a set of Pedro Garcia black system wedge. They are the most comfortable set of suede strappy heels I have ever owned!        

Follow Amber upon Instagram @amberatcouture pertaining to updates on all of the most recent items that come in-store just before they hit the website!

This is a challenging one as I love a number of designers. But if I have to filter it down, my best three designers are: Alexander McQueen because of their daring yet highly creative designs; Valentino because he infuses edginess into classic appears, and Gianni Versace meant for his intricate designs plus genius in the use of high-class prints.  

The most important fashion lesson I have learned is to always spend money on classic pieces. In doing this, you’ll be able to mix and match associated with other trendier or in-season items and still look refined and sophisticated.  

I don’t think I could ever get with the large chunky sneaker trend. I believe they are so unflattering.  

Scroll down to shop  Amber’s  favorites!

Everyone is wanting a developer belt! EVERYBODY! I also are seeing a lot more people choosing a bag with an enjoyable color rather than your common black or tan. Crimson for instance, is such a pretty “neutral” that goes with just about anything!

  Shop with resale worth in mind. It is a savvy purchasing idea to get a designer item that holds its worth over time. In doing so, you might be guaranteed of your return associated with investment the next time you choose to market your item so you might be able to afford another designer item when you decide to update your own designer collection. Shop around yet keep in mind that in the designer resell world, great fashion discovers sell quickly—so don’t wait around too long so you won’t lose out on a great find!  

Because we are based upon the types of products we all receive for resale, probably the most challenging parts about the job is learning to discover similar or, even, much better recommendations for clients when a specific product they want is not available or online. Often , the clients come into the store using a specific product in mind. It really is my job to “wow” them by exceeding their own expectations and letting them view the benefits of expanding their options by recommending other developer products with similar styles, silhouettes and better functions. On the flip side, the most rewarding component is the friendships I’ve designed with our amazing customers all through these years.

I love knowing people which in turn helps myself figure out each person’s flavor. We all have such various style and preferences therefore asking a lot of questions in regards to a person helps to create the original relationship. In order to maintain these types of relationships, I’m always remaining in touch and keeping a glance out for what I think individuals will like. I’m so fortunate to have had so many consumer relationships turn into friendships right here. It’s so fun assisting my friends shop and I treasure that they value my views and honesty.

  Shop  Amber’s  Top Favorite products here:

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[khalix-hyetology]

Slices of Writing (1)

I been writing for 16 years now. I know it may not seem like a long time but I do believe that because I was writing this long, both consistently at times and intermittently at others, that I have gotten some experience. My experience may or may not help others but I think writing down some points is always good.

What have I written?

I have written my own stories, poetry and I have written fanfiction.

I started writing my own original short stories and fanfiction. Many people may not like writing fanfiction. There are reasons for not liking fanfiction. However, I do not agree with it not being serious writing. Fanfiction is not always smut writing or attempts at erotica. It can be very well defined and detailed, and at times, supersede the original work or give it layers that the original did not support.

I have learned that fanfiction can be analytical writing. It is a form of essaying into what we perceive and what can be done with characters and plots. Fanfiction writing is also a form of sandbox. The term sandbox is more popular with coders because it is a test sheet in which they can experiment with code and try things out. Fanfiction many not always be a scratch sheet but in the beginning it does serve to others a form of blueprint in how to navigate the writing/writer’s arena. So, I do not discourage fanfiction. It is through our passions for creativity, reflected in others’, that sometimes we find our own voices.

Now, as I have gotten that aside I want to write down some points that may  be of use to you. These points are not rule of thumb and you are free to customise them whichever way suits your needs. They are meant to orient you to writing and how you can shape yourself better as a writer. Some of these tips are things to help bring out a mindset for writing. Others are involved in the body of writing.

Nothing is fully innate ability — Recently, I had a chance to interact with a blogger who lives in Japan and makes Lolita dresses by herself. People ask her for advice on how wonderfully she can make these dresses and she responds to them to the best of her knowledge. I like Lolita dresses but I am not that engaged with the lifestyle, however, it was nice to see someone so passionate about doing something they love. And, doing it well. I won’t be afraid to admit that I was envious and I mentioned it to them. I told them that I wish I had their talent. That is when she said something very important.  She told me that she worked hard on all of her dresses. That each ensemble took time and effort. That it was a  process of trial and error that she came to this point. Saying talent alone usually reduces all that hard effort and makes it seem magical. What is important is that you learn this now. No matter what your age, 17, 19, 22, 27 or 37 or 64 get it out of your system as much as possible that innate ability is  this incomparable reservoir of creativity that you are born with and that only some people have it and others don't. Even the most "gifted" people need to practice. Our mainstream cultures have a tendency to portray the "gifted" as someone who easily gets things. They are so awesome they get it in a few minutes or their first attempt is successful as anything. Look, life isn't some anime where the shougo heroine or shounen hero gets to level up so fast and achieve greatness in one go. Nor is it a scene from Good Will Hunting. We may admire and love movies like Good Will Hunting but it is not necessarily real. Even genius has a process and requires experience. If you don't believe think about Will in the film. Despite his gifts he squanders most of them and initially is reticent in getting into his passions because he fears rejection and he wants to socially fit in. He may have an innate ability for mathematics but he does poorly socially and even interpersonally. Not to mention, he is in denial about himself and his own insecurities and pain. Then he does practise mathematics. It's not like he doesn't. He reads books, tries to learn more. Yes, because it is a film we don't get to see the process but it's there.Innate ability may have some merit but practice and understanding usually play a major role in expanding yourself. So, please get it out of your head that you cannot do something because you are not innately good at it. This is a self-defeating and procrastinating attitude. Even I have it and try to get rid of it. It is also a relaxed attitude — I dare say lazy. We cannot ascribe to our passions without any sort of trial or effort. Struggles, small and large, make the process meaningful and salient. Sometimes, the more mistakes we do learning allows us the greater avenue of success. We may not want to try something for fear of all the long hours of work, fear of failure and fear of the unknown. These are all natural fears. But what is also natural is you overcoming them. These fears are not a fatality. You have the power to make them insignificant by showing the fears who is boss. Your fears should not master you; you should master them. If you do not like the idea of mastering them then think of fear as little sprites that are naughty and a bit hyperactive. Think of them as naive and sweet beings that are hungry for your attention. They could even be parasitic. Give them a glass of milk, feed them some cookies and send them outside to play or to bed. The thing is that fears and even the reluctance to do hard work will becoming damaging as you keep on going in life. Hard work does pay off. That is the age old rule that actually does stick and work. Understand your craft and work hard. Only you can for your stories, writing and any other passions you may have. Do not think that the Valkyries will suddenly sing and the gates of Valhalla will open and you will drink ambrosia and be gifted with the Midas touch. Even Midas had to be king before he got his touch and there had to be warriors for Valhalla to appear and the Valkyries to know the songs they would soon compose and fight alongside to. Don't aspire to get to chapter 10 before you haven't even done chapter 1. The only innate thing you can truly possess with some certainty is your perseverance and endurance. There will be bad days and there will be good days. Take them all as the climbing steps for progress.

Do not be discouraged by Haters — This is a very important rule and one that you must try to always keep on reinforcing to yourself. No matter how hard it gets.  When you start there are things that won't be polished. Writing is a lot like woodcutting and carpentry. You start with a block of wood and it still had stubborn sticks and branches, truant leaves and all of the rough edges that do not look nice on its own. When you start an experiment in a laboratory you are just given raw materials that you have dissect, wait to precipitate and then get results. Writing is no different than this. Sometimes, you may be in the drawing board for hours, days, weeks or months. It can take years to finally even find your voice and style. This is the same with art. This is not saying you cannot get it faster.  Sometimes, our other skills help the one we are trying to foster. So, don't think if you are a certain age you cannot learn writing. As I said before the only innate you can be completely sure about is perseverance and endurance. Now, here is the thing. Not everyone can do what you do. This is a truth. And, it is a fact. Not everyone will have the guts to well write or even try to write and then show it to others. This takes some form of courage if not confidence. You must remember that not everyone inculcates or teaches themselves this form of courage. Yes, courage can be taught. Everything in the world is learned via the tutelage of different forms. The people who cannot do this actually learn something else. They learn cleverness. Cleverness is not always a good quality because it can discriminate and be very partial to others other than oneself. When people are  spouting vitriolic about your work they are aspiring to be clever. That is why a comeback can be clever but may not fully be honest or helpful.   Haters have no courage. They do not know how to have it. What they have is venom and cleverness in abundance. Remember firstly a hater mostly hates themselves. A person cannot be this acerbic to a work without some acerbity towards themselves. If you have not written a nasty opinion which is mired in racism, queerphobia, xenophobia, sexism, misogyny, misandry, transphobia and discrimination of any sort there is no reason for anyone to hate your work this passionately. Usually, people who have enlightened opinions are enlightened in their critique. If you are young or not well informed about something people will first approach you with the benefit of the doubt. Haters and trolls are a subset of a new age tabloidism, in that they are sensationalist, melodramatic and full of spite for themselves and others. A good example of this is the anonymous message service in Tumblr. I do receive a good amount of anon hate and have received them for some years. I don't really let it faze me anymore. Haters hate me because they can. It is not a need or a desire. It is built on a false consumption of a choice. Instead of choosing to fulfil their lives and instead of making themselves better to the image they aspire to be they are wasting their time and yours by hating on you. They don't know and many a times they don't know your work intimately or informatively either. They are just people with a grudge who want to vent. Instead of choosing healthier ways to do that, they choose to be toxic. Toxicity is not your priority; creativity is. So, don't listen to the haters. A teacher of mine recently stated that it is also social/human nature to drag others down. If you can do something or have the passion to want to do something be prepared to meet a few people that will tell you, you can't. I wish I knew this back when I was 16 or 17. I remember those times social media was young and I posted poems on Facebook. One guy, who I tagged as a friend, always use to say some of the most rude comments about my work. He would ascribe them to be that of a emo, 3rd grader with no creativity. I remember calling my best friend then, young as I was, at night and crying to her. She consoled me and told me not to take this personally. So, I approached him and said that there was no need to be so hostile towards my work if he didn't like it. The reply was nice but it pointed out my flaws instead of his. Saying he should have remembered that I was a bit of a softie and not taking responsibility for his actions. In retrospect, I am happy he did do that. It proved the thing my teacher said. If I asked him if he could do better or write better I am sure he couldn't have. If he honestly answered he couldn't come close to what I was writing then. So what if it was emo and angsty; that is common and normal for a teenager. Especially, for a teenager who have faced abused most of their life. It may seem emo to him but could he write of his own injustices this way? When we write we are also doing something therapeutic. Meaning: important to our socio-physical, emotional and psychological well being. A hater knows this and their cruelty is like a thief they attack this vulnerability of yours. Remember their vulnerability, not power, is also their attack on you. Treat it as such. Jeanette Winterson said that poetry is important because a tough life needs a tough language. She is completely correct. People who can do better have a portfolio either professional or otherwise of doing better. Their words are concomitant to their actions. Their words are also usually clear that aside hate they know what they are talking about. They show knowledge in their criticism. Haters usually nag, whine, complain and give cheap opinions. Haters are ironically also your most avid fans because they stalk your work and social media accounts with the chance to bully you. If you did stop doing what you do for the sake of them their triumph is short lived and they want you back so soon. You are their pinata and they miss you like anything. More so than a lover. They are codependent and parasitic. So, don't stop writing for haters. Haters will hate whatever you write. Even if you write something in synchronicity with The Theory of Everything they will still hate your guts. They lack their own so like vultures they pick at yours. Haters gonna Hate. Writers Gonna Write. 

Take Constructive Criticism — There are always going to be people who are knowledgeable and give you advice. They could be doing other things but they are helpful enough to tell you perhaps your language could be better, or your syntax or you can put in more expressions. Don't take these as negatives. Take these also as progress. Your writing touched someone enough to leave constructive criticism, which means they valued your writing in one form or another. They believe you have the potential to grow further and be farther than where you are.  That is saying something especially in today's world full of haters and trolls. They gave you a perspective you possibly haven't checked and could do wonders for your writing if you did check. There is no true set limit to a skill. Your life is not Sims so that you master skills and then you have nothing to do. Life is ready and ripe with opportunities and for you and you are also there for it. It is important to take criticisms not as — and this is very important — as an evaluation on yourself. Ad hominem arguments usually come from haters where they build you up as a straw man and try to burn you like an effigy. Constructive criticism is meant to help you put final touches or at least help you along your road of success. Think about the block of wood I spoke about earlier. After carving it out  someone notices it could use more varnish, or some wood chips are unevenly out or that one side is engraved too much. These are all said to make your work look more aesthetically pleasing and also substantial. You have the guts to write something then you also organically have the guts to take this. Trust me. Constructive criticism is meant to tie up courage and confidence. That is why writers online also have beta readers. Beta readers are the text audience who are going to see how your writing is flowing. These are all normal aspects of writing. Do not be discouraged by them. When I was 14-19 I had a hard time taking constructive criticism. I haven't fully mastered it yet but at that time I was completely reluctant to take it. It was not necessarily pride that stopped me it was the inability to understand what my audience was saying. I was young, inexperienced and immature. My audience was telling me not to be so experimental with my writing style. This was for fanfiction writing. Obviously, the demographic may want something different. Yet, as I got older I decided to incorporate some of the advice they have been saying. It worked better for me too. I mean I realised I couldn't finish projects because I was demanding too much of myself in one place which could also serve as a constrained medium. Saying that, I am also happy I experimented. That I took long to listen to their advice. This may seem contrary to what I stated but it is not. See, I was young and discovering aspects of my voice and style. I terribly needed to do what I did. It was a form of catharsis that literally helped me mentally, emotionally, psychologically and physically. We all have moments like this and we all need them. Seizing these moments is seizing life as well. To understand better who we are and what we are doing and also the why and how we are doing. It is your job as the writer to actually understand what constructive criticism you would need and what you wouldn't. Think about a mathematics problem. They say certain things about it that could be excess information. But for you to make x and y you don't need everything. Mathematics is also about context, elimination and extraction as much as writing is. So, you take what you feel is necessary and you could use to improve yourself. And, things you don't you ruminate on them later or don't engage with them as much. Your responsibility as a writer is to write and to write well in how and what you write. You don't always need to listen to what a reader or reviewer is saying if you feel they are going antithetical to your ideas and writing goals. That doesn't give you the right to be rude with them. It allows you to understand other perspectives and how you can better write your messages across. If a reviewer or reader gives a suggestion or desperately wants something you don't have to cave in to their wishes. This is something I learned the hard way too. Your story may be different than their expectations and that is actually good. If you were to write only for their expectations what would you learn or what would they? So, the idea is to map out those comments and extricate the meat of it and eschew the rest. You don't always have to feel the pressing need that you may lose a fan if you don't write by their standards. You may actually lose the respect of your fan if you always cave in to what they want. They may disregard your ideologies and philosophies because they feel you are governed more with a nature to please than to persist. And persist you shall with your own autonomy. No person is a locked island though so obviously the tides of criticism are needed but they may also abate to see the coastlines of your writing shores. Take advice wisely. Remember that the writing is coming from you and no one else. You have a better grasp on the realities and expectations of the writing than anyone else can so you should write them out as such. Do not let peer pressure or even the pressure of ratings malign your course of action. ~ To be continued

[drelhambasha]

The insights that served me best this year…

#1. Ambition is only a dirty word if it’s an unclean ambition. Human beings are built to grow and progress. You are meant to shine.

#2. As you rise in authentic power, craft and impact, some will throw rocks at you. Take the High Road. And trust that the truth always wins.

#3. You can pursue shiny distractions. Or you can do epic work. You just don’t get to do both.

#4. A rare-air dream requires an explosively great team. The smartest way to grow a company is to develop your people.

#5. Generosity is the cure for scarcity. Be the most giving person in every room you’re in and life will reward you with uncommon blessings. Remember: doing good in expectation of some return is no gift–it’s an exchange.

#6. Why worry about a disrupted economy when you can build your own economy via the pursuit of mastery.

#7. Happy people make happy leaders–which create happy teams. So work on your happiness.

#8. A smile to a stranger is a gift of vast proportions.

#9. Creativity breeds amid solitude versus noise.

#10. If world-class was easy, everyone would be doing it.

#11. A monumental vision means, en route to the summit, you’re certain to experience monumental hurts. That’s just the price of bravery. Stay in the game. Longer than any naysayers suggest you should.

#12. Being on time is hip. Keeping your promises is cool. Having good manners is in.

#13. Optimism is a gorgeous contagion.

#14. Busy isn’t productivity. Fake work isn’t real work. Fight for focus. And execute on what counts.

#15. Love is the antidote to fear.

#16. Exceptional physical fitness is a game-changer.

#17. Honor your parents as you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

#18. A fast-growing company is a highly-vulnerable entity. As you scale, it’s so easy to stop doing the special things that made you special. Stay solid on your founding values. Work even harder to be of service. Push even more passionately for mastery.

#19. Never miss a single opportunity to help another human being. At the end, our highest honor will come from our influence on others.

#20. The illusion of safety is always more dangerous than the discomfort of innovation.

#21. You can never give others more love than you deliver to yourself.

#22. The greatest leaders build more leaders.

#23. Legendary performers are generated via their daily rituals more than their inherited talents.

#24. Life’s a series of seasons. We each have our times in the sunlight, and our days in the winters. Savor the easy runs and leverage the challenges to fuel compassion, courage, creativity and decency. All is good. The universe is a friendly place [Thanks Einstein].

#25. Writing of gratitude in a journal allows you to relive the more beautiful parts of your life on a daily basis.

#26. Business is a dialogue. Lose the dialogue with those you serve and you’ll lose the business. Period. And always remember who puts food on your table.

#27. Meditation is a genius practice on your pursuit towards genius. Rewires the brain, releases serotonin and lights you all up. Do it daily.

#28. Mountain biking makes adults feel like kids again. [Thanks to my new Romanian friends who took me up the mountain outside Bucharest in September; I’ll always remember that day].

#29. An obsession isn’t unhealthy unless it’s an unhealthy obsession.

#30. A job is only a job if you fall into the trap of perceiving it as a job. All work is a spectacular opportunity to polish your craft, push your edges, transcend your fears and bring greater light into the world.

#31. Just because others don’t live your values doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand for your values. Martin Luther King, Jr: “Until you’ve found something you’re willing to die for you’re not fit to live.”

#32. The best producers are curious, invest deeply in their growth and adore reading + going to conferences + befriending giant thinkers.

#33. Achievement without joy is failure, not winning.

#34. Watch the sunset every night in acute celebration of the gift of yet another day.

#35. Remember your heroic nature. And lift all those who intersect your life. There are no extra people alive today. You matter. More than you know.

With my truest wishes for your greatest success.💭🗯💬

Together, we are doing our part to grow positivity, inspire productivity 🙏

[ramenfever]

hi, this boy is great

Let me just go on about how much I love the great Min Yoongi, S-U-G-A aka Augst D, D-boy, genius jjang jjang man boong boong man, the sweet n stoic boi that deserves the world. So his existence itself is a gift to this mortal world for so many reasons but here’s a random number of them:

Great rapper, 10/10, creative, a LYRICIST (I’m a hoe for that) and HAVE YOU HEARD 724148? THAT’S SOME GOOD SHIT

actually, this man is a all round great musician. A flexible and amazing producer and composer and beautiful singer

+he be making that synth money

Speaking of money, this boy works HARD for his. No one can a single person say he doesn’t deserve anything he has and will have in the future (if you think otherwise, fight me)

He went from selling his songs for barely a McDonald’s combo to wearing outfits that cost more than my birth expenses.

Boy can go from judgement day stare, to loving gaze to whiny child. What versatility.

Oh wait, versatility? He can do lit ass fast tracks like Agust D, and slow meaningful verses like in Dead Leaves

ONCE AGAIN, 724148. UNDERAPPRECIATED BOP.

v pouty 

i could assemble a gallery for the MET of his pouty faces

He serves quality in everything he does, producing rapping, and hes funny!

Unintentional humour = the best humour 

Everything he does becomes a passion project

He didn’t even intend/want to be in bts. His training period was long so he thought and threatened to quit multiple times and he thought bts was going to be a hiphop group but he got bamboozled by bighit, singers got added and here he is, almost 4 years later, doing aegyo. Thats DEDICATION

His love for his soulmate

#dayones (I hate ratchet frat boy bts lol)

He is totally willing to say what others won’t and what he doesn’t need to for the sake of fans. From a quick remark on the fact he won’t do smtm to speaking about his inner thoughts, mental state and mental health issues.

This kid was out sick when there was a concert, leading to the cancellation, and even after the fans being understanding, sending their best wishes, and his apology, he FLEW OUT TO JAPAN ON HIS BREAK. Because he didn’t want to abuse all the love he’s received. He wanted to feel closer to what the fans did and took the time from his break to do so.

This guy is mad thoughtful

willing to call himself “a weak person who acts strong” instead of faking pride

Always repping home, even when it result in things like d-boy (if you know what that means, you’ll laugh too)

Stank faces.

So many stank faces.

He fuels my memes. I think thats worth somethings

Also he got a helluva face. A face thats meant to be sprawled all over sketchbooks (its all over mine atleast)

Hair colours always matching the album covers

He looks good! in every! hair! colour!!!

project #reviveyoongisscalp has been doing wonders. For starters, his follicles are prospering and you know what else is prospering? My eyes that have been blessed to see him with black hair after so long

legs snsd are jealous over

hes put on some weight and LET ME TELL YOU- I’m LOVIN’ IT. Get me some mcdonalds fried with those cute ass cheeks and im set

19cm

“i don’t give a shit” says the ever caring one

“you eat, seeing you eat makes me full” says the same man

Becomes Mr. Fix It when something needs to be repaired

Basketball SKILLS! surprisingly shooting guard, so hes light on his feet, would’ve played college basketball if all this didn’t happen

his hands

Bad at expressing himself and conveying much in person but lyrically- a gift and a storyteller

2AM twitter stories and journals 

Agust D is a great mixtape all together, listening experience from the whole thing at once is really it at its best

Back to dedication, his music career seemed almost set up to fail, which his parents disagreed upon, the career where he went without credit for YEARS is now bringing joy to not only him but to other people around the world. And did i mention he rocks GUCCI?

He straight up got it all. Humble, creative, dedicated, funny, cute, excuse my french but garcon est hot as shit and just all over is a well rounded person- all well he can admit there is ways to go.

[debrahnesbit]

In Memoriam: My Dear Friend and Colleague Ian Kerr

Nearly twenty years ago, Ian Kerr was a rising star in the law and technology field at the University of Western Ontario. He had already published on the role of computers as intelligent agents in the nascent world of electronic commerce and was crafting new courses examining the legal and ethical challenges posed by machines and the law. In the fall of 1999 – about a year after I had arrived at Ottawa – he agreed to a visit to consider coming to help build a leading program focused on law and tech. I spent the day trying to convince Ian to come, offering tours of the law school, the city’s foodie hot spots, and a dinner at my house. My closing argument was that no matter his decision, this was going to happen since Ottawa was ideally situated to lead on tech law and policy and that there was no better place for him, personally or professionally.

I’m heartened that Ian told me during my last visit with him at the Ottawa Hospital that the decision was one of the best he ever made. But I was wrong. This wasn’t just going to happen. It happened because Ian – my colleague, friend, advisor, and professional partner – made it so.

Ian passed away last night after months of battling complications from cancer. He was a singular talent, whose impact not just on the field, but on everyone he worked with, taught, mentored, or lectured will be felt for decades to come.

He was a prescient scholar who proposed the title of Canada Research Chair in Law, Ethics, and Technology years before the ethical implications of technologies would emerge as a widespread societal issue. His work spanned so many issues – robotics and the law, artificial intelligence, privacy, surveillance, security, digital rights management, algorithms, electronic contracting, human rights, and human enhancement – that he needed to reshape the standard approach to the reporting of academic achievement in order to convey even a fraction of his prodigious output, while his four-way cross-appointment to medicine, information studies, and philosophy reflected a commitment to the study of law and ethics beyond the law school.

He was an extraordinary teacher, who won awards everywhere he went, leaving his students with indelible memories of opening music to set the tone, visually remarkable slides and multimedia materials that challenged students to think in new ways, and an engaging lecture approach that endeavoured to bring out the best in everyone. That teaching extended to the entire globe: teaching the world’s data protection and privacy commissioners on the privacy and technology at their annual conference in Morocco in 2016, delivering keynote addresses in countries around the world from Iceland to Singapore, and serving as a visiting professor at institutions such as New York University, Tel Aviv University, the University of Haifa, Pompeu Fabra University in Spain, and Tilburg University in the Netherlands.

He was a great builder, who brought vision and passion to creating new models for teaching, research, and student exchange. It was Ian that led to the creation of our LL.M. in Law and Technology that counts hundreds of students as past alumni. It was Ian that developed the much-beloved Techno-Rico course with the University of Puerto Rico that serves as model for many other courses including mine with the University of Haifa. It was Ian that led the quintessential multi-disciplinary large scale research project with ID Trail, a multi-million dollar initiative that launched many new careers, publications, and provided the roadmap for inclusive, forward-looking, team-based research projects. And it was Ian that worked with successive deans – Bruce, Nathalie, and Adam – on hiring, programming, and a myriad of other issues.

He was a dynamic leader, the heart and soul of the technology law program that blossomed years after we envisioned it around the kitchen table. For the amazing group of professors, program directors, research managers, and supporters, there were no limits to Ian’s generosity and his advice, enthusiasm, and support represented the not-so-secret sauce behind our success.

He was an exceptional advocate, changing the law through his scholarship and tireless efforts. Whether quoted by the Supreme Court of Canada, on the floor of the House of Commons, or in government reports, Ian not only identified the legal challenges associated with law and technology, he influenced the solutions. His work on supporting a global ban on Lethal Autonomous Weapons brought him to the United Nations for an address to member states and succeeded in convincing some of the world’s greatest computer scientists to join him at the policy table.

He was pioneer, joining forces in 2012 with Michael Froomkin, Ryan Calo, and Markus Wagner to launch the first We Robot conference. That event has since become the leading conference of its kind, resulting in ground-breaking scholarship and a generation of new scholars in the robotics law field. It was one of Ian’s proudest achievements that We Robot will come to Ottawa for the first time next year.

It is tempting – indeed deserving – to focus on a truly breathtaking record of academic achievement. Ian was widely recognized as a global leader and brought enormous pride to all of his colleagues. He was one of us and showed how Canadians can thrive on the world stage. Yet Ian’s towering career does not tell the most important part of the story nor explain why his loss is so difficult.

It was Ian the person, the mentor, the collaborator, the friend, that sparkles the most from this brightest of stars. He was a creative genius, equally comfortable baking challahs, reciting poetic rock lyrics, or drumming in a band as he was on the biggest academic stage. Earlier this year, he generously provided me with his Canada Research Chair renewal application in order to assist with my own. What stands out in those documents was his incredible love for, and commitment to, his colleagues and students. Over just the last decade, he co-authored pieces with Jena McGill, Katie Szilagyi, Katie Black, Jason Millar, Carys Craig, Jennifer Chandler, Timothy Caufield, Carissima Mathen, Noel Corriveau, Michael Froomkin, Joelle Pineau, Jennifer Barrigar, Jacqueline Burkell, Alex Cameron, Jessica Earle, and Daphne Gilbert. He co-edited works with Mitchell McInnes, Tony VanDuzer, Ryan Calo, Michael Froomkin, Valerie Steeves, Carole Lucock, and Jason Millar. It is an astonishing record of collaboration, demonstrating how Ian was most at home working with others, sharing with others, and ensuring that the spotlight was on others.

You didn’t have to write with Ian to know about his generosity, however. I have never met a colleague more willing to share his work or time. His supervisions of graduate students is legendary with members of Kerr graduate family holding prominent posts at universities around the world. His research assistants and classroom students held a particularly special place in his heart as evidenced by watching Ian continuously pop up and down during convocation as a steady stream of students invariably saved their biggest smile for his enthusiastic, warm embrace as they crossed the stage.

Of course, Ian reserved his biggest smiles and love for his family. A number of years ago, I convinced him to join my fantasy football league. He said yes, not because he was big football fan, but rather because he saw it as a great opportunity to play with his father, who was back home in Calgary. The Steel Kerrtains never managed to snag a title, but Ian had an entirely different goal in mind.

When I last saw Ian in the ICU ward, the talk quickly turned to Erin and Ruby. He pointed to their pictures on the hospital wall, noting that his family was his most important success story as his love for them – and them him – meant everything. They gave him the strength to fight his terrible disease and family life provided the fulfillment and happiness that he wished for everyone.

Last month, about two weeks after Ian was back in the hospital, I ran into our colleague Vanessa Gruben in the law school foyer. Vanessa told me that Ian had been moved to ICU hours before and that the situation was not good. I walked up to my office numbed by the news and as I opened the hallway door that leads to my office, I looked down the hall as I always do. It was then that I realized that for the past twenty years, the first thing I have done when I enter the hallway is look to see if the door to Ian’s office – just two down from mine – was cracked open with some light shining through. I’m not totally sure why. Sometimes I would pop in to say hi, sometimes not. But there was something reassuring knowing that my friend and partner was there. I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking for that light.

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