#punctuation in this song title is a choice i don’t agree with but

[seveneyesoup]

my pronouns are he but not him bc i’ll never be him (cool-doug, at night)

[fandomdancer]

The Dance

In the year 2169, you are a senior in high school. You've been best friends with the same two young men since grade school. One of them is your date to the senior dance. The other is the class loner: Eobard Thawne. When your date make a suddenly unexpected move, you find yourself feeling like the perfect night is ruined. But then Eobard shows up...

Word Count: 3,754 words

Rating: T, but may be M

Pairings: OC/Reader, Eobard/Reader

A/N: First attempt at a reader-insert fic. Special thanks to @darlingpetao3 @yetanotherwells @wellsaddict and @hawk-lee for listening to me freak out about this, inspiring me, and giving me the courage to actually post it. I hope it's interesting and fun for you to read.

This is Mattobard's version of Thawne, since it takes place during his teenage years.

This fic was inspired by this song (which is the featured waltz in the story). 'Pride and Penance', from World of Warcraft: Shadowlands.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtBflZHIcQ

_________________________________________________________

The moment you step into the darkened dance hall, you feel as though you have been transported back in time. In fact, you can’t help but wonder if the organizers of this year’s spring formal are utilizing some of Rip Hunter’s famous Time Couriers to literally open a door to the past. Everything around is, at minimum, dated back a hundred years ago, from the DJ setting up digital playlists to the black-light-illuminated chairs seated around tables littered with drinks, plates of food, and what looks like games. The music right now is from the early 2000s, but you expect the songs to range through decades, possibly even centuries over the course of the night. Multicolored lights hang from the ceiling, giving the place an overall ‘club’ look, accentuated by the powerful underlighting at the bar.

The temperature increases as you enter on your date’s arm, the exertion from the dancing and milling bodies heating up the air in the room. The dance started only thirty minutes ago, but the excitement in the room is palpable, and kids are wasting no time yelling ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ as they toss back nonalcoholic drinks. One table is already full of kids engaged in what looks like an intense card game with multicolored discs sprayed across the table in front of them.

Catching the fever of the room, you cast a huge grin up at your date, a handsome young man you’ve known since grade school. The two of you are dressed perhaps a little fancy for the event, with him in a fine, high-collared suit befitting a 20th century aristocrat and you in a deep red 1940s princess ballgown. Overdressing is okay: the two of you were expecting a slightly more ‘ballroom’ shindig, not this ‘21st century club’ event, and upon looking around you can see that other members of your class had similar ideas, wearing everything from 1800s Victorian gowns to military uniforms.

“They did a good job,” your date says. “Though one would think they could have come up with a more original theme name than ‘Blast to the Past’.”

“Don’t cheesy titles comprise part of the charm of last century?” you ask as the two of you move towards the obligatory picture arena. “Wasn’t stating the obvious considered not only funny, but…what was the word…a meemee?”

“Meme. One word, one syllable. And yes. Memes were a rather popular form of communication in the early 21st century, though I guess they started well before that.” Your date eyes the line and the picture-taking arena before them. “Is that….a phone booth?”

You are both intrigued as you watch a couple go into the booth, pulling a curtain shut and separating them from the outside world. Their feet are obvious as they scrabble into various positions, each one punctuated by a bright flash ands lots of giggling. The couple emerges, looking flushed and full of smiles, and watch as two thin strips of plastic emerged from the wall of the booth. The two grab the plastic strips and look at them, giggling as they walk away.

“It’s a photo booth.”

The voice right beside you and your date startles you, and you quickly look over to see one of the chaperones for the event, Ms. Steinway, a few feet away. The young teacher looks stunning in a green floor-length gown, her blonde hair floating ethereally around her shoulders. She gestures. “You go in, and you have five pictures taken of you in quick succession. There’s usually only three to four seconds between each photo so people often planned ahead what they would do ahead of time. You can make faces, or be serious…whatever you would like!”

“Thank you, Ms. Steinway,” you say before looking back to your date. “Well. I guess we have about a minute to come up with five different poses.”

“Why don’t we improvise? We’re both good thinkers on our feet.”

The tension and pressure of racing to beat a timed photo session is appealing to you, probably a side effect of all the time you've been spending lately with your other friend, Eobard Thawne. He has a strong taste for competition and it’s been rubbing off on you in the years you’ve known him.

The sudden thought of Thawne makes you skim the room, wondering if the class loner has actually shown up to tonight’s dance. You’re pretty sure he’s not here; this isn’t his type of thing at all. It’s certainly why you didn’t ask him to be your date. It’s also the only reason why you didn’t ask him to be your date. Eobard Thawne’s proud, handsome figure and strikingly keen intellect has drawn many a girl’s attention over the years, including yours, and you’ve made a concentrated effort to ignore it. But lately, you’ve noticed that he seems to be hovering near you much more often. And he got into a fistfight with your date a few weeks ago…you never did quite figure out what had caused that argument…

Seeing him here tonight would definitely open a lot of doors, however. Perhaps you would be brave enough to ask him for a single dance. He can be a truly arrogant ass but he has always been at least civil to you…probably because the two of you have also known each other since grade school.

Your date pushes you forward and you realize that, as usual, thoughts of Eobard have distracted you for several seconds. It is your turn in the photo booth.

The booth is small and simple, with a little touch screen that simply says ‘go’. A quick glance over the screen shows that presets are in place, with no way to change them. It is a little aggravating to not be able to customize the photos but you suppose that’s to get the line of kids moving quickly. With a quick glance at your date, the two of you reach out and tap the ‘go’ button together.

The very first thing he does is kiss you. It’s so fast and so intense that you don’t even have time to react. Suddenly his mouth is open and wet and moving on yours and his hand is in your carefully-crafted hairstyle and you are shocked beyond words because of all the poses you had considered in this run of pictures, your longtime friend kissing you was not one of them. You’ve suspected he felt this way about you and there was no doubt in your mind that he would be an excellent romantic partner, but you hadn’t really…thought about him like that. In fact, the only person you really thought about like that was…Eobard.

He finally pulls back and looks quickly at the camera, grinning widely. Your brain is fuzzed and rolling with several unfinished sentences and questions, but some little part of you keeps control and turns to smile bright and beautiful at the screen. The two of you make silly faces next, and as you are setting up for what you think is the next picture, the screen goes dark. You realize in shock that he used three of the five pictures to kiss you. Feeling frustrated and cheated, you get out of the booth, pasting a smile on your face so as not to appear angry to the line of kids waiting outside. You’ll have plenty of time to discuss his choices later.

The pictures print out and they’re definitely difficult to look at. The first one shows your obvious surprise, but the second two are worse, showcasing your desperate attempt to keep control of what is happening by grabbing at his face and responding to his kiss. It was not your best decision, but you feel like it was your only choice at the moment – and that realization makes you furious.

The two of you head to an unoccupied table, and the moment you set down the photos you whirl on your date, your insides twisted in knots and your throat almost sealed shut from the force of your anger. “What the hell?”

“What?”

It’s even hotter in this room with your anger charging you up. You are pretty sure your face is the color of your dress. “You kissed me.”

He smiles. “Of course I did. What did you think we were going to do in there?”

Your mouth drops open. “Make faces and smile! When did kissing appear on the list of things to do tonight?”

His brow furrows. “When you agreed to be my date. Come now, you can’t possibly miss all the signs I’ve given you. You know me better than that.”

His self-entitled arrogance sets your teeth on edge and you clutch the table so hard you’re amazed it doesn’t bend. “I’ve known you for almost all of my life and you have never been so rude as to just kiss someone without making sure it’s all right with them! You wait for that kind of invitation! You don’t blindside her during a timed picture taking session!”

“Spontaneity has never been your thing, and I respect that,” he begins to say.

You cut him off. “Clearly not or these wouldn’t exist!” You wave the pictures at him before slamming them down onto the table. You don’t know what you’re angrier about now; being forced into this situation before you felt ready, his seeming blindness to how the whole situation played out, or the fact that you feel like what should have been a beautiful moment is ruined and you are never going to get it back.

A waltz begins to play, the very song the two of you were hoping would be the focus of the evening, and he reaches a hand out to you. “You’re right. I made a terrible mistake. I thought it would be fun and I assumed you would be all right with it. I am sorry. I truly am. We will go have the pictures retaken. But will you dance with me? This sounds like a beautiful waltz and I don’t want to have ruined the night by making a terrible decision right at the beginning.”

He sounds sincere but you don’t answer him at first. Your mind is still awash with anger and betrayal and a sudden desire to be anywhere but in this room right now. You don’t want to just forgive him for doing this to you. But you also don’t want the night to be ruined, and right now the song playing sounds like it could be a wonderful dance and you aren’t sure how many more will be played with the selection of music likely being offered. Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his.

“We aren’t done with this conversation,” you state firmly.

“Of course not.” He twirls you gently. “But this song fits you and I want to see you dancing to it.”

You don’t know the name of the song, but it has a haunting melody to it, almost ghostlike with sliding violins. Waltzes always have a kind of built-in grace to them, a slippery seduction meant to make it easy to move to. But this piece has an additionally dramatic vocalist that elevates the rhythm to something royal and aristocratic. You can almost imagine the two of you (and the couples that are joining you on the floor) dancing in the hall of an ancient, grand mansion while a dark storm swirls outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and the dry fingers of tree branches curl menacingly in shadows on the floor, trapping the dancers’ feet in their grip.

“Pardon me.”

The familiar voice snaps you out of the daydream you are drifting into, and you rock slowly back and forth in your date’s arms as you realize Eobard is standing in front of you two. Your breath catches and your heart rate picks up instantly as you look at him. He looks as though he has stepped straight out of your daydream: a young lord trapped in a dying manor, cloaked in high-collared black and red with the light shimmering blindingly on his short blond hair. Even more shocking is the dramatic flair he has added to the outfit: a full-length black cape fastened at his neck with a ruby. He is too beautiful to touch and yet your hands…and other, sweeter, deeper parts of you…ache as you stare at him.

His eyes sweep over you and you think you see his jaw clench slightly before he speaks again. “May I cut in?”

“You’re in our way, Bardo,” your date growls, all softness and politeness gone from his voice.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Eobard responds to him but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Your throat is growing dry from the simple intensity of his gaze. “I was addressing your partner." He nods to you. "May I cut in?”

You finally register what he is asking, and the thrill that races through you makes you shiver. You had thought you might have the courage to ask him to dance if you had seen him here, but him asking you is completely unexpected. Saying no to him might prevent him from asking again, but saying yes would probably send the wrong message to your date.

Then again, your date certainly sent you the wrong message when he forced you to kiss him in the photo booth.

It’s a very simple question with a very simple answer.

“I would be honored,” you reply, trying to sound as cool and proper as possible. As you pull away from your date, you feel his hands clench briefly on you. You quickly look up at him, seeing the betrayal in his eyes. At first you feel smug, but then you remind yourself that he did apologize. You give him your best comforting smile. “We’ll continue this later,” you say to him, making his expression soften just a little. But the look he gives Eobard is poisonous.

Eobard’s expression doesn’t change. Instead, he unfastens the cape from around his neck and whips it dramatically off, draping it unceremoniously on your date’s still-outstretched arms. “Would you be so kind as to place this on a nearby chair?”

Redness floods your date’s face, and you start to open your mouth to scold Eobard for his rudeness, but his hands grip you firmly and he spins you away into the dancing crowd before you can say a word. Your feet scrabble as you try to keep up, and you have a feeling he’s trying to get you as far away from your date as fast as possible. Focusing on your movements, you catch his rhythm and begin to move in time with him, gaining control over yourself while still permitting him to lead. You’re angry enough now that you’re tempted to just walk out the door after this dance. When did your two best friends turn into such boys? They’re acting like you’re a prize in a competition and while that might be flattering, it’s making you feel a bit like an object and not like the lady you want to be tonight.

“You dance well,” Eobard compliments.

You roll your eyes. “You dragged me out here and I just got my balance back. Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers. “I mean what I say. I saw you trying to dance with your date over there. He was trying. You were succeeding.”

You snort and sigh. “I wish the two of you would tell me why you both seem to have lost your minds lately.”

Eobard tilts his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your heart pounds and you know what you hope the answer is, but coming right out and saying it feels like a such a terrible risk. Eobard’s emotional difficulties make him dangerous sometimes, the wrong word or look pushing him away for days at a time. You are not going to ruin this night, this dance, this moment that has been playing in your dreams.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” you say, trying to put an innocent look on your face. You aren’t sure if it works or not, but the hard look in Eobard’s eyes softens somewhat, and he guides you around the floor. Looking up at him, you surrender your mind to the daydream, milking this moment for all it is worth. The seductive waltz paints the image of a great hall, decadent in its decay, the memory of opulence just as romantic as the opulence itself. And Eobard, cold and proud and throat-achingly beautiful, spins you around it, commanding your body with his touch, and commanding your mind with his eyes.

“Your friend and I,” he says in a low voice, “are both seeking your approval.”

Dear God, he actually said it. You’re almost dizzy with excitement as you frantically think of how to navigate the next few sentences. Honesty is going to be key. “You have a funny way of showing it. First that fistfight a few weeks ago and now tonight he just kisses me out of the blue and then you drag me off like I belong to you or something…”

“He did what?” Eobard stops the two of you cold, and you blink, looking up at his grey eyes, watching in surprise as they turn stormy and dark. His pale face begins to flush as he gazes down at you. You can’t tell if what you’re seeing is anger or not, but as his eyebrows draw together you feel your insides flutter. It’s more than just anger. It’s jealousy.

Eobard is jealous.

The realization makes your throat close and you swallow several times as adrenaline floods your veins. The possibilities open up in your mind, and you suddenly realize that while both men are, in fact, treating you like a prize, you are still the one in control.

“He kissed me for our photo,” you say carefully, letting the frustration and hurt show on your face. “I didn’t know he was going to.”

Eobard looks at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his face continuing to grow red. His hands tighten on your waist and hand, and a strange excitement blooms in your chest. Eobard Thawne, so aloof and elitist, suffering from the simple emotion of jealousy. And jealousy related to you, because he’s seeking your approval. Despite the heat of the moment, you find yourself fighting a smile.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks tightly.

You know the truth and you know what saying it will mean. But right now, you are unable to lie to him, captivated by the thrill of his reaction and the intoxicating crescendo building around you.

“No.”

Eobard’s chin lifts and a smug satisfaction fills his eyes as the music crescendos loudly. With a climactic crash of drums, he decisively pushes you out into a firm spin, and then brings you back in, his hand slipping to the small of your back and holding you flush against his body. And for one fiery, fierce moment, you realize that you can feel him, dear God, all of him, pressed possessively against you, and a weakness makes your knees wobble and your mouth go dry as you stare into his eyes, only inches away, and realize what he is silently saying to you.

Then the two of you are moving again as he takes everything up another notch, whirling you both within the crowd as though you have all the space in the world. The music pounds with your steps, pulsing inside of you, the melody a full-throated cry from the whole orchestra, igniting adrenaline and fire within you. Your mouth falls open to gasp for air as your eyes drift closed. You don’t need to see, only to feel the clutch of his hands and the heat of his body and the light pressure on your waist as he leads you.

And then, in one powerful beat, the music stops. Eobard pushes you backwards into a dramatic dip, holding you up while your hands claw at him. You can’t see the ecstasy on your face but a few gasps from the people around you suggest that the two of you may be in a very compromising position. You don’t care. Your body is shaking and tingling. You feel sweat dampening your skin, and the heat…you’re drowning in it. But you don’t want to move. You don’t want it to be over. Most of all, you don’t want his hands leaving you. Ever.

Your breath comes in heavy gasps as he draws you up to your feet. He steadies you, and your eyes finally drift open. The sight before you makes you shiver again. Eobard is breathing just as hard as you are, and has the same slightly dazed expression on his face that you are feeling. You vaguely realize that while you were trying to keep your balance you gripped his hair and shirt because both of them are bunched and mussed. But neither of you can look away from the other for several seconds.

Finally, he is the first one to move. He gently straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He brings his heels together and reaches for your hand. He bows, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you,” he says, “for the lovely dance. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some air.”

You nod slowly. “I…think I do too.”

Something sparks in his eyes, and he offers you his arm. You consider taking it, but the sensation that sweeps through you as you realize what the implications are stop you. You are awash in powerful emotions now, enough to know that if you go with him, you’re going to do something you want…

….oh do you want….

….but on impulse, caught up in the moment.

You know you need to gather yourself. The night has only just begun.

“I will see you back in here,” you reply, offering a polite curtsey. It isn’t a blatant rejection, just more of a ‘not now’. Eobard seems to understand and his withdraws his hand before turning and striding for the door.

You head for a different exit, catching a glimpse of your date just as you leave the room. His face is a thunderstorm, and you feel a slight chill that cuts through the hazy fog of your mind.

The night has only just begun, and you have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.

[pindaleng]

Title: But I Knew You

Pairing: Avatrice

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2270

Summary: College AU. Beatrice is Ava’s favorite person. Ava loves being around her in a way she can’t explain. She wants to do everything with her, from studying to partying to walks outside. Which is completely normal for best friends.

Getting flustered by close contact and fake flirting is also definitely a super normal friendship thing.

Read on AO3 or below.

“I don’t get it.”

Beatrice sighed from her desk. “You don’t have to, it’s organic chemistry.”

“But I feel like I should. Like, this is the structure of living things right? I’m living, so I should understand how it works.”

“You use the internet, but you don’t know how that works.”

“Good point.” Ava shut the thick textbook in front of her. She didn’t really want to learn anyways. “You done yet?”

Beatrice sighed again, turning in her chair to face Ava, who was sitting on her bed. “We’ve only been working half an hour, and I specifically said I was spending the entire day studying. Which you should be doing too, since I know you said you have an exam Monday.”

“Fine Ms. Studious.” Ava made a big show of loudly unzipping her backpack and finally pulling out her laptop and notebooks. “I’ll…study,” she said, punctuating her last word with air quotes.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, definitely looking skeptical, but turned back to her own pile of schoolwork.

Ava opened up her Google doc notes on her laptop, and simultaneously picked up her phone to check Twitter. Beatrice was right to doubt her; she practically never did any work on Saturdays. That’s what Sundays were for.

And yet, every Saturday, she showed up at Beatrice’s room under the guise of studying, just so she could hang out with her favorite person. Beatrice was one of the few people Ava felt comfortable in silence with, maybe due to all the death glares she’s received from Beatrice when she’s being too distracting.

Either way, she found comfort in it, even if they’re just sitting in the same room together, focused on their own activities. Beatrice studying, and Ava scrolling through social media on her phone, occasionally typing a paragraph or two for a paper due the following week.

They’re pretty much polar opposites, and Ava often wondered how they stuck as friends. Probably due to the weird crucible of living on the same freshman year dorm floor. People got to know everyone really quickly, for better or worse.

Luckily, it turned out for the better with everyone Ava met. A few of them with rooms in the north wing bonded fast, and they rented a house together for their sophomore year. She loved them all: Mary, Lilith, Camila, and Beatrice.

But especially Beatrice.

Beatrice was smart, kind, and witty, and honestly the best listener Ava’s ever met. Ava unabashedly talks a lot. Like, a lot. And being like that, people can lose interest as conversation and friendships progress.

But Beatrice still gave Ava her full attention after a year of Ava talking her ear off. Which was still impressive every time.

It’s cool.

It’s cool that she has a solid group of friends when there was no one back home to keep in touch with.

She really loved it here.

There were so many things to do and people to meet, sometimes she still got overwhelmed by it all.

And the best place to get the full experience? College parties.

It was the midst of midterm season, but honestly all the more necessary to have something to blow off stress. And to be real, midterm season lasted from the second month of school to the end of the semester. So, no better time than the present.

After Ava got kicked out of Beatrice’s room for being too distracting, she spent most of that evening helping the rest of her housemates set up their party. Mary was in charge of getting alcohol, having the most connection with older students. Lilith put Ava and Camila in charge of cleaning and setting up, which basically meant that Lilith didn’t trust Ava to actually do the work well. Ava would have been offended if she didn’t enjoy spending time with Camila so much. The girl was a ball of literal sunshine, yet also unexpectedly, full of dirty jokes.

So, setting up the apartment with Camila was a party in itself, full of fun banter and deep life discussions.

Ava just finished putting out the snacks and booze, when the first people arrived. She cracked open a bottle of Fireball, and downed a double shot.

Ava happily shook out her body as the the liquid warmed her up. It was going to be a good night.

———

Ava’s in the middle of laughing at some stranger’s story when she caught sight of a figure coming down the stairs. She grinned.

“Woo! Life of the party’s here!!!” She yelled across the room, startling the people around her, and drawing Beatrice’s attention towards her. If Ava was sober, maybe she would have cared more that Beatrice looked slightly (very) embarrassed, but Ava definitely wasn’t sober. She half skipped and half jogged across the room, undoubtedly spilling her drink on herself and several bystanders.

She hugged Beatrice tightly when she reached her. God it felt nice. Like sinking into a bed of clouds. Or something similarly soft and fluffy and comforting. “I missed you.”

Beatrice laughed softly, close to Ava’s ear. The best sound in the world. “You just saw me a couple of hours ago.”

Ava pulled away and pouted. “Still.”

Beatrice smiled, in a perfect way that made her entire face brighter. Holy hell she was beautiful. “Well, I finished up for the day and I’m here now. Any chance you can show me where the party is?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness.

Ava looked at her in disbelief. “Wait seriously? You wanna join?”

“I can’t be a dud at a party in my own house, can I?”

Beatrice had definitely sat out on many parties they’ve hosted, but Ava ignored that. For now, she was going to enjoy this win. She led her to the kitchen, where various bottles of alcohol and sodas crowded their dining table. Beatrice shrugged when Ava asked what she wanted, so she just made a vodka cranberry. It was a crowd pleaser drink in her opinion. Plus, some rich kid brought Grey Goose, which was probably double or triple the price of everything else on the table.

Beatrice took a sip. “Not bad.”

“I may not know much,” Ava tapped her index finger a couple times to her temple, “but I do know my liquor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you also know how to get on my nerves.” Beatrice said teasingly, voice devoid of any malice.

Ava took a overdramatic bow. “Thank you, m’lady.” She refilled her own cup with a mixture of vodka and sprite. “Shall we?” Ava offered her hand to the other girl.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but put her hand in Ava’s.

Ava led them back to the main room, navigating through groups of bodies to eventually land them at a couch, which was miraculously unclaimed.

From there, Ava launched into basically non-stop talking, wanting to entertain Beatrice in the best way she knew how. She shared stories of all the people she met during the night so far, with Beatrice supplementing the conversation with appropriate reactions and commentary. Ava recounted one guy that recklessly challenged her to shotgunning a beer against him. Spoiler alert, he lost miserably. Ava watched Beatrice’s eyes as much as she could while she was talking, entranced with their intenseness, openness, and expression. Did they always look like that?

The eye contact felt so personal, like it took away everyone else in the room, ignoring the raging party and loud music around them.

And the music was definitely loud, though the song choices were good. Mary knew how to set up a playlist. Ava got banned from music duty when she un-ironically added in Friday by Rebecca Black.

No regrets.

After exhausting all the tales from that night, she moved to discussing and speculating with Beatrice on the backstories of all the partygoers. People watching with Beatrice was always fun. As strait-laced as she appeared, Beatrice was also incredibly creative. Whatever wild stuff Ava theorized, Beatrice could match or do better.

At one point, a couple joined them on the couch, pushing Ava into Beatrice, pressing their sides together. The couch was much too small to comfortably fit 3 people, much less four.

“Shit, sorry.” Ava tried her best to back up and give Beatrice space, but there was nowhere to go.

Beatrice put a hand on her thigh and smiled. “Ava, it’s fine.”

Ava suddenly found it hard to breathe. Probably due to being surrounded by two more people.

“You okay?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, think I just need to get out here for a bit. Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

There was a nice, cool breeze outside, a welcome relief from the humid air inside. It was also much quieter.

Beatrice suggested getting ice cream from Mcdonald’s and Ava emphatically agreed. Beatrice really knew her.

Fifteen minutes later she was contently humming to herself as they walked back to the house. This was the best party ever. She had an ice cream cone in one hand and somehow Beatrice’s hand in the other. A perfect night. Ava’s pretty sure this is the happiest she’s ever been in her entire life.

———

Ava groaned as she slid back into consciousness. She felt grimy, which was not unusual for her after a night of drinking.

She did a quick self inventory to assess the damage.

She was in her own bed, which was good. Boxers? On. Shirt? Also on, but in her sleep shirt instead of the button up she was wearing last night. Interesting. No bra. Also interesting.

She felt around to her right and left. No body in the bed with her. Good to know.

Minimal pounding in her head. She sat up, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t feel like throwing up.

She noticed a glass of water and a couple of Advils on her nightstand. Definitely Beatrice. No one else would be nice enough. Okay maybe Camila, but she still had bets on Beatrice.

She quickly washed down the pills with water and slipped on shorts and a pullover before making her way downstairs to the kitchen.

Mary was sitting at the table eating, and Beatrice at the stove pouring batter into a pan.

“Pancakes, oh my god. Bea you’re the best.” Ava gave Beatrice a tight hug and overdramatic sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Beatrice playfully pushed Ava away and made a show of wiping the kiss off her face. “Yeah yeah I know, now eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ava saluted. “Got it chef.”

“Dork.”

“You love it.”

“No comment.”

Ava’s in the middle of inhaling her fifth pancake when Mary said something. Beatrice left the room about a pancake ago, so it could only have been directed at Ava.

“What?” Ava momentarily stopped chewing.

Mary got up and started rinsing her dishes in the sink. “I said, you should really tell her how you feel.”

Ava knitted her eyebrows together. “About what?”

Mary stared at her for a while, long enough to make Ava to feel uncomfortable. Her mouth was still full, and Mary has perfected the gaze that made her feel like a kid in trouble.

“Never mind,” she said, as she put her dishes in the dishwasher.

“About what??” She repeated. Mary ignored her and walked out the kitchen. Ava swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. “Asshole!” Ava yelled after her, eliciting a middle finger response.

Beatrice appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Mary being cryptic and messing with me.”

“Sounds about right.”

Beatrice sat down at the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly… not bad. Seriously thank you for the food and Advils,” Ava remembered her state of dress when she woke up. “And…probably also for helping me out of my clothes.”

“Oh um, right, it was nothing. Didn’t want you sleeping in an uncomfortable, sweaty shirt.” Ava noticed Beatrice’s cheeks turn a little pink. Shit, she didn’t mean to embarrass her. She could fix this.

“Did you see something you like?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made Beatrice blush harder. Oh my god Ava you’re so bad at this. She felt herself digging herself into a hole. Of course fake flirting with her is going to make it worse.

Ava was about to say something (probably dumb) to attempt again to save the situation, before Beatrice spoke.

“How could I not? You’re beautiful.”

For once, Ava was speechless. The incredibly reverent but casual way Beatrice said it completely took her breath away. There was something magical about how soft Beatrice’s eyes were, and how vulnerable it felt. Half of Ava felt calmed, while the other half of her was a raging mess. Ava felt the need to do something. She wasn’t sure what, but she needed to do something. She started racking her garbled brain for any ideas.

Beatrice’s smile slowly slid into a smirk, “Got you.”

The spell of the moment was broken. Ava laughed to dust off any lingering weird feelings. “Wow, got a taste of my own medicine. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher. You should have seen your face.” Beatrice mimicked a “deer in the headlights” look for a brief moment before grinning again. She got up from the table. “Now hurry up and finish your food so we can get to the library. I’m not going to let you forget about studying for your midterm tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Beatrice slapped Ava’s arm playfully before leaving the room.

Ava watched her go, wondering what in the living hell just happened. Fuck. Was she about to kiss her best friend?

[its-an-iiiusion]

At Last

Day 2: winter

Word count: 804

Modern honeymoon AU

Warnings: more suggested smut because I only have the balls to be horny on the low

______

There were many things Zuko took into consideration planning this long overdue trip. His new(ish) wife however, was a less predictable element. 

“Katara come inside!”

“I can hear you, but I won’t...”

“Flaming Agni, not again,” There was an undeniable grandeur to the architecture of the ski lodge but each facet did not demand to be serenading. “Katara it’s a blizzard!”

“Some look for trouble, while others don’t...”

“At least close the door!” A heap had already formed at the opening and he was in the bathroom for less than 3 minutes.

“There’s a thousand reasons I should go about my day…”

A blustering gust sweeps through the common area leaving him nearly defenseless in a tank top and joggers, “I shouldn’t have to suffer along with your poor choices!”

“And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away oh ohh ohhh…”

“Why must you mock me in song…”

The next set of ad libs comes out more akin to laughter than singing as she shouts over the storm, “Why must you insist on silencing me!”

Zuko employs his breath of fire to brave the weather pouring into the lodge as he approaches, “I don’t want you to stop singing, I do want you to return home without hypothermia or frostbite.”

She finally turns to face the doorway, only to ensure he sees her teasing grin, “That is but a petty concern to the likes of me island boy.”

Zuko is helpless to the sigh of surrender and mild insult that drops out of him, “Then may I ask why?”

Katara twirls all the way around taking the snow around her along, “Perhaps if you ask nicely…”

“Oh my beautiful and all powerful wife, so kind as to grace me with your presence each day, may I please inquire upon your ongoing presence in the ferocious snow storm assaulting our getaway?”

“Oh please this is maybe a third as bad as the storms in the South but since you asked properly,” she turns once again and ensnares every snowflake she can reach in her control before sending them to burst forth overhead, “I AM IN MY ELEMENT!!” She punctuates this with an uncharacteristically childish squeal followed by more snow dancing.

Her joy is infectious and Zuko smiles, defenseless to her joy, “You bend all the time love.”

“Not for a whole two weeks, I thought I would go insane!”

Zuko leans on the door frame, “It was your idea to rough it through the Earth Kingdom deserts for the first half.”

“I thought it would be fun to experience the olden days for ourselves, I didn’t consider all water would be absolutely necessary to drink.” The snow around her slows to a more sultry sway “Though I suppose I can't complain about two weeks stranded with a firebender constantly hopped up on sunshine.”

“Perhaps that’s why you ended up so thirsty.” Zuko cheeses  with his attempted joke.

The snow around Katara drops as she begins to approach him, “Oh come on you could have at least called me thirsty for more than water what you said barely makes any sen-” her berating of his humor was cut off my being scooped into strong arms and swung into the warmth of the lodge. 

“There, nice and toast-” Zuko’s early celebrated victory smothered in a pile of snow from above.

With that she is dropped into a giggling heap on the heated floor as he moves to finally close the door, unsure of what to do with the pile and subsequent puddle forming in front of it. Suddenly, all the leftover snow on and around them came to life at her command going completely liquid and swirling around her form in a telekinetic ribbon dance. Zuko just basks in the delighted radiating off of her.

“I’m glad you’re so excited, I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since college.” He muses.

“An unfortunate series of events barrelled at us since college and the ten years that followed but it all led us here, and I think here is plenty to be excited about,” the water moves in two tendrils from her hands to reel her husband in, “wouldn’t you agree Mr. President?”

Zuko snickers at the title as the water begins to wander across his body, “I still think winning the first election after abolishing the monarchy is a bad look.”

Katara huffs, “And I think your thinly veiled self loathing is a bad look. I insist upon 15 declarations of your value by the end of the night, my first order as First Lady. Now if you will excuse me,” she makes a grand show of spiraling the water as she turns, “I have the first of many freshly fallen snow-water baths ahead of me.” Then she saunters off to the master suite.

@zutaramonth

[mondoholic]

Josh Homme spoke to Kyuss World Radio about the 25th anniversary of KYUSS's final album, "…And The Circus Leaves Town". The Californian four-piece split three months following the LP's release, resulting in it being less critically and commercially successful when compared to the two KYUSS albums which helped birth the stoner rock movement — 1992's "Blues For The Red Sun" and 1994's "Welcome To Sky Valley".

"I'm not good at keeping memorabilia and I'm not too nostalgic because I guess it makes me feel a little sad sometimes," Josh said. "And I feel like there's such a huge pile of things to do. And sometimes I feel like when I look at a picture or something, I go, 'Man, it'll never be that. That's only where it was.' So I tend to focus forward.

"Hearing that [the album] is 25 years old, that makes me happy. It makes me a little bit proud that I got to do something that long ago, and I'm not dead yet. [Laughs]"

Asked if he had an inkling that "…And The Circus Leaves Town" would turn out to be KYUSS's swansong when he chose the LP title, Homme said: "I think the way Brant [Bjork, drums] left [after] 'Sky Valley' was a real shock, and it was very much like the rug being pulled out from under you. Because I didn't really understand [why he was leaving], and he was never able to make it really clear. Because I think it's difficult, too — when you're young like that, it's difficult to say, 'I need to go this direction.' When he left, he had our manager tell us that he was leaving, so we didn't really get to speak to Brant. And one of the things that he had said was, 'I think the band should be over.' And I really loved Brant. And I think that was a difficult moment to hear your friend was gone and he wasn't explaining why and that he thought it should be over.

"One aspect that I always agreed with is that bands, especially at that time, I was adamant that bands shouldn't go on too long," he continued. "At the time, I really felt like you do your best work, and when you realize you've done your best work, that's when you should explode the band — to preserve it is to destroy it; that you end [the band] at the absolute apex of your creativity as a group of people. And for me, personally, and I probably should have shared this, but in my gut, I was, like, 'We'll do one more record, and it'll be everything we have.' And so when I suggested that title, I think I knew that that was it, or I felt that it was coming to a close. It just felt very sort of Edgar Allan Poe, or it felt like 'Something Wicked This Way Comes', which is one of the [most] beautiful I've ever seen for a book. It's just got this beautiful ominous darkness to it. And so '…And The Circus Leaves Town' just felt timeless, and it's over, and you watch the exit on the horizon."

In March 2012, Homme and ex-KYUSS bassist Scott Reeder filed a federal lawsuit against Bjork and ex-KYUSS singer John Garcia over their involvement in the band KYUSS LIVES!, alleging "trademark infringement and consumer fraud." Five months later, a judge ruled that Garcia and Bjork could not release any recordings under the name KYUSS LIVES! and warned them that future concerts under the KYUSS LIVES! mark "might continue to subject them to liability for trademark infringement."

Asked if there is any scenario under which he would consider taking part in a KYUSS reunion of some kind, Homme told Kyuss World Radio: "My philosophy has always been, never do a reunion, never do a sequel. It's not what it was; it's what it is. And that's kind of how I've felt. A legacy that involves having been at the epicenter of a scene that got created, it's so fragile; it's like an ice sculpture. And I don't wanna be a blow dryer on that thing. That being said, I was in full support of KYUSS LIVES! and I would go to the shows and I told them as much, until what Brant and, unfortunately, what John tried to do. And that was terrible."

Elaborating on the breakdown of his relationship with Bjork and Garcia, Homme said: "All you have to do is show each other respect and say, 'Hey, we wanna do this, and we wanna talk about it.' Once Scott Reeder told me they were wanting to put out an album, I said, 'Let's sit down and talk.' So Scott and I went and talked to John and Brant. Sorry, it wasn't Brant — it was just John, because the band as it is, Brant had quit, so he wasn't part of that, what it was when it stopped, [which was] me and Scott and John. So I said, 'This is a discussion for me and you and John.' So I went and talked. And I said, 'We should find out a way for you guys to continue that's respectful.' You don't trample on what the legacy is and that you kind of let everyone understand what's going on moving forward. And the name they chose was a little unfortunate, 'cause it's actually literally saying KYUSS is alive again, which wasn't my favorite thing, but I was, like, 'Who cares?' But unbeknownst to me and Scott during that meeting, they'd already applied for a trademark to steal the name away. So I'm sitting there talking to these guys in good faith, and their managers, and they'd already applied, and you have, like, 20 days to object to the application. So the notion that I'm sitting there talking in good faith about how they could continue, and meanwhile, at that exact moment, in another room somewhere, they're applying to take the trademark for the name KYUSS so we wouldn't own it anymore, so John and Brant would own it. And so John had felt like he was robbing himself for something, and that's just not right — I don't play that way. And it also meant that they couldn't be trusted to be honest. 'Cause I'm sitting in a room, and instead of telling you that, it's like being stabbed in the back, essentially. There was no choice but to actually take action, because you can't sit down and say, 'Let's talk about this,' because now you told me that I may say something to you with my right hand, but my left hand might be stabbing you in the back. It's made it impossible to trust what was going on. And Scott and I both were, like, 'Jesus.' And it was only three people — me and John and Scott. It was, like, 'John, what are you doing? You are allowing you and Brant to take the name from you and me and Scott.'"

Homme continued: "I suppose at the end of the day, they didn't need a blessing [to play KYUSS music], but I was giving it to 'em. I want those guys to do well. And they were playing KYUSS music for a generation that had only heard of it and never heard it. I didn't see the harm in that. But trying to usurp it and take it away was just like dirty pool. The problem with all that stuff is that in a lawsuit or something like that, everyone loses; everyone looks bad. People that have loved KYUSS for so long go, 'Fuck these guys.' And that's terrible. That's why I say it's so fragile. That's why I say I've always wanted to err on the side of don't finger bang the ice sculpture; it's gonna break. If you don't touch it, it's just classic. But you don't punctuate the end of a band with a lawsuit. Those things are tragic, and they're awful. And then they lost, because, of course, you lose when you do things like that. But that damage is awful.

"But to be honest with you, and to answer your question, there have been times I thought it cannot end that way, and the only real way to end it correctly now would be to play," he explained. "And because they sort of perverted the punctuation and they knocked the wing off this beautiful dragon that's an ice sculpture, and the only way to put the motherfucking wing back on would be to [play again].

"I have thought about this, especially in the last few years, to do something special, and even to make up for that mistake of Brant and, unfortunately, John, to make up for it. [I thought we should] play and give all the money away. Like, play for the fans — cover your costs and make it five bucks. Figure out a way to be, like, this is how the punctuation will end the sentence of this band. Because it was never about money — it never was about money. It never was about fame, and when it felt like that was the move they were making, I was so sad."

After KYUSS split in 1995, Homme went on to form QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE.

In a May 2012 interview with RolllingStone.com, Bjork stated about Homme and Reeder's lawsuit, "They don't want to mention that they trademarked the name KYUSS after I left the band, assuring that I had no rights in KYUSS's future. They're both accusing John and I of doing something that they actually did themselves. Their inner conflict is this: both Josh and Scott want control and money from KYUSS LIVES!, but they don't want to participate and they ultimately don't want us to exist. The double standard is unbelievable."

He added, "Josh and I were the creative force within the band and after the completion of our second record, 'Blues For The Red Sun', we developed an opposing view on how the band should exist and operate. In 1992, Josh discovered publishing, which is the financial revenue stream for songwriting. After that, he wanted to write all the songs. As a drummer, I couldn't make him play my songs. I wasn't going to compromise my heart and soul and play drums for Josh to make money in a band I started. So I left the band. I was a confused, angry and sad 19-year-old idealist who sacrificed my love of my band for what I believed in. Two and a half years later, Josh would break up the band after John confronted him about the same thing; his need to control the band for personal gain."

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 20

Title & Song:  No You Girls

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 5000+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where will she draw the line between business and pleasure now that they are working so closely together? Alfie hires Gen to help him end the blackmailed politician’s pull in London. He’s promised her the bloody good fight she’s been itching for, will the evening deliver?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Fighting. Gore. Blood. Nameless character deaths. Seduction. 

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is No You Girls by Franz Ferdinand.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes and comments feed this artist to write more!

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-19)

You had been invited out tonight for a hit on a club. When Alfie had asked you who you'd suggest hiring to help fight your way in, you could tell by the way his lip disappeared under his mustache when you said your Arthur and the Shelby's, that he wasn't exactly sold on the idea himself. But after telling him no one fought with you better, he reluctantly trusted your choice. 

You were to be handsomely compensated for your skills which would be out in full form tonight. You'd been excited and nervous as the date approached for the job, but now that you were walking in through the back entrance of the club as it was closing, to sneak the door keys and bring them back and wait in the car for your targets to arrive, you felt back in your element.

The director of this group of painfully mediocre wannabes just so happened to be the man who had tried to fuck Alfie over that you had helped steal the blackmail for. Now you found yourself in a position of immunity from the blackmail working like a dream. He can't report the hit, Alfie gets the last word. Everyone who mattered was happy. Alfie still having bones left to pick with this man and since you were involved already, he brought you in as your addition would make the night go much more smoothly, he suggested. He was taking part in this fight, as it felt it was personal at this point. Saying that he needed the opportunity to blow off some steam as well, like old times.

You're slinking across the street in your long, off the shoulder dress. Hidden split up each thigh for ease of movement hugged your curves in thin, soft red fabric to accommodate the summer's heat. Your makeup, the usual dark eye, and red lip, your hair pulled back at the nape of your neck so it wouldn't interfere with your sight or movement. You were very much dressed to kill.

Tommy and Alfie are sitting in the second row of the benched back seats of the large Rolls Royce watching you walk away in the direction of the club.

Alfie's nose twitches, readjusting his grip on his cane. Tommy had lost count of how many times he'd done this. Solomons was moving enough to almost be deemed twitchy. Tommy looks back over to the newspaper he's been skimming while they wait for your return.

"Do you not trust her to do her job?" Tommy asks in his even, cool tone.

"Eh?" Alfie gruffs, looking over at Tommy with a furrowed brow. "I wouldn't've hired her if I dinnit." he says obviously, one hand moving off his cane to express himself.

"Then can you stop fidgeting?" Tommy hides a small half smile with a slight tilt of his head as Alfie leans away from him in a pout. "You've worked with her on jobs before, haven't you? Or are you always this nervous when it comes to her?" he doesn't hide the smirk on his face from his words.

"I 'ave but none this dangerous." he states, thumbing his nose.

"From that statement I take it you've not seen Gen fight before have you?" his eyebrow rising in interest.

"I saw 'er at The Garrison." he offers.

"No that wasn't a fight." Tommy shakes his head. "I mean in the sort of spot you'll find yourselves in tonight." he clarifies, slowly turning his head towards Alfie who's enjoyed the subtle puzzlement on his friends face.

"No." he says, his hand punctuating his sentence with a wag. "But I did see her come home after getting the shit beat out of her by two men a few weeks back." he says with a bad attitude. "So forgive me if I'm hesitant to let her loose on her own."

"Is she your's to let loose now?" he says with implication.

"Don't be fuckin' daft Tommy." he growls. "But I'm the one hirin' her ain't I? She wouldn't be back out doing this so soon if I hadn't asked her to." he elaborates.

"Gen knows her limits, she wouldn't take a job if she thought she couldn't deliver."

"I'd be inclined to believe that." he solemnly nods.

"How's living with her going?" he breaks the silence growing in the car.

"Well you know." he pauses for a moment, "Place is fuckin' huge, innit? She's lovely. Good girl, very hospitable." he says with a firm nod of his head, still looking out the window in the direction you should appear.

"She is." he nods, looking back to his paper.

"She's never boring is she?" he says in a tone that tells Tommy he's become well acquainted with your big personality.

"Not in the years I've known her," he says with a small smile. "I heard you took her out to the Opera?" his voice full of suggestion

"She asked me to," he says with a hint of defensiveness. "What was I gonna do? Say no?" he lets out a gruff laugh.

"So you weren't taking her out?" his question inflects with interest at the end.

"No, mate. Weren't nothin' like 'at." he shakes his head as the words groan out.

"Nothing like that?" he insists.

"If there is from her end, I'm not aware of it." he plainly states, motioning out with his hand. "That is if she is in fact as affectionate with her good friends as she says she is." he pauses, places his hand on the other man's knee, leaning towards him with a look that is supposed to signify he's being impressive, "Which apparently we are now. Just so ya know, mate." He nods as if in sympathy towards Tommy's defeat. "So she has said to me, yeah?" he returns back to his normal sitting position.

"Good friends, eh?" he says with a subdued expression of amusement that would have been visible if it hadn't been dark outside.

"But she ain't like 'at wif you? Is she?" he says, his finger pointing out at Tommy, side-eyeing him.

"She has never been," he says, his face back to indifferent. "She is that way with Arthur and John. Arthur specifically."

"Why not you?" wondering if he'd done something to make her not want to be as close to him.

Tommy swallows before he speaks. "I've always assumed it's because she was a friend of Grace's." he says, the usual micro-lilt of her name as he forces it out of his mouth.

"Ah." he nods in agreement. "Now that would make sense, yeah." he ponders it a moment before quickly moving back to his questions. "Her and Arthur seem strangely close what with how she talks about 'im, what's the story wif 'at 'n all?"

"They're not fucking if that's what you're asking." he says with a bit of a tired drag to the words.

"That's not what I said, Tommy." he says a bit with the hint of offense.

"No but it's what you meant, wasn't it?" he says knowingly. Alfie gives him a strong side eye after turning his head from his direction. After a few moments of Alfie's silent treatment, he continues, "I believe they talk about art mostly. They're both very good to have on your side in a fight and they're both also very emotional. Seems that makes a friendship these days." he says with a short sigh.

"Well that checks out, dunnit?" he mumbles, still looking out the window.

"Seein' as he's married 'n she's watchin' the kid 'n all." he clarifies to himself mostly. "She didn't seem like the type of woman who'd do that sorta fing." he says more quietly, his eyes narrowing in consideration.

"She isn't." he agrees flatly. "She's a good woman, Alfie." he adds with more sincerity, nodding his head as he looks over his paper.

"It's hard to believe she's as good as she is, Tommy." he admits, his voice not showy, his hands not moving. "Hard to believe there are any women left like 'at all."

Tommy's eyes slowly look up and forward, taking in his words and what they told him about how he felt. "It is very hard to believe." he quietly agrees. They both sat in silence with heavy thoughts about the women on their minds. ---------------------------------------- Tommy leaves the car, going to a street over to wait for John and Arthurs signal that all the men had all arrived. You're turned around in your seat, on your knees. Your forearms crossed on the back of the seat, facing Alfie.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" you ask, your eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes on Tommy leaving. "You've been acting odd." you pry with a tilted head.

He turns his eyes your way for a moment, before moving them back out the window. "What are you on about?" he huffs out.

"I know you Alfie, I can tell when something's off." you hum at him, resting your chin on your arms. "What is it about me that's throwing you off tonight? Let's fix it before we get in there bc I don't want it distracting me." you insist with a nod of your head.

"Well you were beat all to hell not that long ago, weren't ya?" he bites a little too harshly at you, looking back at you. You give him an attitude-filled glare.

"So you think I shouldn't be doing this." you say with a slow nod, pursing your lips in disappointment. You sit back up, lifting your chin from your arms.

"Don't be puttin' words in me mouth." he says, shaking his finger at you. "That's not what I said now, was it?" he lets his shoulders fall as they'd tensed while he spoke.

"Fear born from worry, then?" your expression softens as you stop your attempt to turn away from him. Your eyes aren't defensive when he meets them again.

"Now I just told ya not to do that, dinnit I?" he looks back out the window. No longer revving up, his face was set in an angry sort of pout.

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it, Alfie. Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself." you say poking him in the chest, limp-wristed and playful. "Look on the bright side." you offer which a much more subdued and charming expression, "This is the only time you'll ever be nervous for me before a fight because once you see me in there, you'll apologize for having doubted me." you give a challenging grin.

"Now there. That." he points at you. "That's the woman I hired for this tonight. You. Now?" he taps your nose and you can't help but roll your eyes at him. "You. Stay." you commands gruffly and you smile at his playfulness.

"You'll get your money's worth out of me tonight, Solomons, don't worry." you say with a cutesy wink, throwing your head back in a laugh as you turned around in the seat. His eyes give a very slow blink your direction, his head shaking back and forth with a deadpan face at you before you've even turned. -------------------------------------------- The signals are cleared. Everything is in place. Now it's on you to make the first move. Arthur and John are clearing the front guards and the lobby. Alfie clears out the guard in the back. Tommy is the controller, watching outside and making sure no one leaves or enters during the fight. You'd snuck in from the roof. You take a very deep breath, feeling it move through every part of you. You initiate the distraction.

Your heels clack loudly in the most empty club. A large room with hanging chandeliers, huge columns separated a dance floor with an ornately designed ceiling above it. The boys, numbering around fifteen to twenty, all greased up are spread out around a few pushed together tables in the dance floor. Some notice you slink across the landing before your heel hits the stone of the first step, but after that, all eyes were on you. They don't speak for a few steps, you're prim and posh and have all things you hold in your charming arsenal of distraction at full volume. The hit of your metal tipped heels echoes across the cavernous room as they move slowly across the floor to the men. You hear the murmurs begin.

"I think you're in the wrong place, lady." one of them says, this is the one that's just put the target on his head. Lucky boy.

"Quite the contrary," your voice is smooth and velvety, your face set like you know a secret no one else does. "I believe I'm exactly in the right place." you-you laugh, moving one shoulder with the sound, one hand to your chest. The mood shifts slightly in the room. Bait set.

"Oh are ya sweetheart?" he chimes in. You stand between them, still turned away from the back exit.

"You're here aren't you?" you say with a wink as you put your hands on your hips. He gives you a dumb laugh in retort.

"Oh you here for me, doll?" he asks, leaning back in his seat.

"I greeted her first, she's mine." the original speaker almost growls at you, his hand rubbing up and down the back of your thigh.

"Oh I'm here for all of you, handsome." you give a cheeky grin, jutting your hip out in his direction. "Me and my friends were sent here to entertain you boys tonight." you say, putting your shawl around his shoulders. "But I happen to be the first to get here and I'm not one to keep a party from starting."

"That right? he says, looking you over and licking his lips.

"Something about a celebration I'm told? A little something," you shimmy your chest at him with the word, "for a job well done?" you say with warm praise.

"Told ya he wouldn't be mad." the second speaker adds in a defensive tone.

"Guess so." the boy with his hands on your thighs says. "What are you planning on entertaining us with tonight, baby doll?" his fingers grip into the soft flesh under your ass.

"I'm known for my dances." you purr at him.

"You reckon I could get the first one of those?" he suggests, leaning closer and smelling you.

"Thought you'd never ask." you whisper leaning in close, your prominent breasts in his face. "Turn this seat," you say with a kitten like delivery. He raises himself and does as you command. "Now, sit back, luv." you bat your lashes, your hand pushing him back into the chair.

You loom over him like a vulture, taking a moment to look for the men you'd come with tonight. You see Arthur and stretch, letting him know you've seen him. You don't see Alfie yet so, you continue. "You'll all get your chance tonight to dance," you announce to the group, you move back to the boy in the chair. "and I never disappoint." you coo as you push his knees together, standing on either side of them. "But it is much better one on one. Don't you think?" you tilt your head and ask almost innocently.

"Amyfing you say, darlin'." he says in a chuckle, hands already on your hips.  You sink down on him, hands rising above you in and inhale, grinding against him on the exhale. You hitch up your dress, sliding your knife into your hand as you raise it. You look up to Arthur as you lean in close to the boy's ears. He gives a nod and raises a gun from his hiding spot. That was your signal that you were clear and lucky for you, these boys were unarmed. You assume their egos became quickly out of check when free alcohol was involved, and in their pissing contests, they would threaten each other with their guns and that character head boss of theirs couldn't have word getting out about things like that. So he made them start leaving their guns at the door, assuring they wouldn't use them on each other. Guess he didn't think that plan through.

You hold his face in one hand, running your hand over his neck and jaw and pushing his head back when you made your rounds of doing this, his eyes were closed, his life is literally in your hand and you felt the rush of knowing you were about to spill the first blood of the night. You take his chin into your hand and kiss him. He was terrible at it to no surprise, but not surprising in the least is that he's easily distracted. You stand over the boy, your hand holds his head up, looking like any other part of the dance. You hear the footsteps behind you. You tighten your grip on your largest brass knuckle knife. You didn't want to use guns tonight,  but you did have yours to intimidate. You didn't need the attention on the place until you wanted it that way. Alfie had his brass knuckles, along with his hands, adorning crowns and his biggest rings, fists backed by strong arms and broad shoulders. The boys both had their hats. Arthur liked to use the environment instead of planned weapon if he wasn't using guns. He was currently holding a broken bottle. Typical Arthur. John preferred bare knuckles, as he was a powerhouse tank that knew how to take a man off his feet in an endless number of ways. You move your hand now holding your knife to your chest, acting as if you're going to grope yourself and move your occupied hand up his chest quickly. You retrieve your snubnose from your chest and hold the gun to the head of the man next to you as you slice the throat of the man under you. The blood flows down his chest as his hands reach up to his throat, you don't look away from the man in your crosshairs, and you rise off the dying man. The group is wide-eyed in their naivety and still, despite the whispers and curses you hear.

Alfie takes your right. Arthur circles to your left, John finishes the shifting square you've created. The orders were to keep it as quiet as possible and kill all the members of his wannabe gang. That's it. You had intentions on getting messy tonight. Thus the red dress. You needed desperately to work out your tension and that was your intention. Take out as many as possible. The room is quiet except for the gurgling and sputtering of the man who had fallen out of his chair and was now face down on the ground. His wet hands slapping against the intricately tiled mosaic floor as the blood spread out along the cracks mimicking their natural movement in the body like it was flowing through a different set of veins now.

"'Fraid you've made some very poor decisions that's led ya here tonight, boys." Alfie nods as his booming voice echoes around the room. "The worst bein' the decision to work for your bastard of an employer and that decision will be the fuckin' end of ya tonight." he states with a strong nod. "So say your fuckin' prayers to who the fuck ever and let's this get this over with, shall we?" he says with a charming grin, adjusting his grip slowly on the dusters in his hands.

They stay still, some standing in defiance but carrying those actions no further. These men really were pathetic.

"Are you just going to sit there like a bunch of fucking pigs waiting for slaughter or are ya gonna fucking fight?" you shout loudly, taking a few steps back, your arms out at your side in exaggeration.

You hear Arthur curse  with impatience and the broken glass hits the mans face as his friend jumped to his defense and it went from there. You and Alfie picked them off from behind. You struck, stabbed and hit at temples, throats, noses and groins. Each leaving you with more and more blood on your person. The way these boys loomed over you in your fighting stance led to attack from above, making any throat slice, if deep enough, spurt out another gush of blood, dripping down your dress after soaking the upper half of your body, before you could get out of range.

They begin to notice you're picking them off and they start to move in numbers towards you and Alfie. Then it became a true brawl. You have your knife, it and the combination of the knuckle dusters were enough to temporarily disarm most in just a few well-placed hits. You see the lack of form these fellows have, lumbering and easily distracted. Your speed and knife to their panic, swinging chairs, and broken bottles wasn't the fairest fight to them but it allowed you to enjoy yourself. The more you take down, the more they seem to want to be the one to take you down.

You hear things crashing around the room, but you can't pay much attention as they start to swarm and you have to switch gears. You go low, taking their feet out from under them in kicks and hits, your legs striking high at chins and guts as your skirt flies out in a pleasing floral, fluid visual amongst the dark moving forms of men on the floor around you.

By the end you're underneath the last man who happened to be rather large, giving you a bit a fight to finish. You've got the knife pushed through the top layers of his body where his neck used to be, now just a deformed mess from the struggle as you shout in frustration and effort to shove him off of you.  He'd had his hands around your throat, you'd matched this with the knife across his and a thumb in his eye. Once you see your boys standing and watching you, each look a bit predatory in its own unique way, you let your shoulders slump as you move to all fours to standing, in realization it was over. Arthur looks like the runner-up in being covered with the most blood, behind you who was literally sopping with it. You rise, moving your dress as it makes heavy wet squishing sounds as you do so.

As you stand and look down as you  notice none of their eyes were meeting yours, you see the fabric of the dress really wasn't made to have gotten wet as it is leaving nothing to the imagination. Your nipples being hard from the blood coursing fast through your veins are painfully visible as they do look hard enough to cut with the way the fabric sucked to your skin as you moved. Your arms especially, caked in fresh and clotted blood are the same color as your already red, blood-soaked dress giving the illusion of not wearing anything at all, really. You let out a grunt of frustration as you fling the gore from your hands and move towards them slowly, especially thankful now for the previously concealed slits in the thighs of your dress as without them, walking would have been really damn difficult. The moisture in the fabric making it so heavy.

"You could've stepped in at any time on that last one ya wankers. Ruined my bloody dress." you grumble, you are met with silence. "I'm gonna start fuckin' charging all of you if you don't stop fuckin' gawkin' like some schoolboys." you bark at them, making them stand at attention. They were all wound up from their violence and you weren't actually mad. You were just annoyed at the shift in the mood around you like this, being bothered more by how it bothered others rather than the nudity itself.  "Jesus Christ boys, pull yourselves together." you say in a higher pitched voice, pulling the off the shoulder dress up as it was starting to shift.

You looked like a statue carved from red marble by the most gifted artist known to man, he thought. Although this statue of a goddess was real and moving and breathing heavily, perfect proportions shown in their rhythmic movement that could steal your words from your mouth and make it go dry. He was still grunting and heaving, his fists just starting to remember how to unclench, wanting to act on the thoughts that formed in his mind at the sight of you that matched his animalistic current appearance. Your scolding tone snaps him out of his hungry gaze as he clears his throat and puts the brass he wore in his pockets, moving towards you.

"C'mon, boys," he groans, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders, his hands resting on your shoulders. "She'll make us pay for the gift of sight if we keep using it to look at her." he says with a chuckle, having taken out a lighter and cigarette as he spoke, he hands it off to you. You look him over, as he helps you, hair damp from sweat, just the least bit of blood on his white shirt. His hair flopped about before he wiped it back with this hand, you always found it charmingly boyish when you caught the rare chance to see it in its natural state.

You slide your arms into the oversized coat and accept it, lighting it between your fingers with narrowed eyes. Thinking this gesture felt like an odd sort of power move from him, although his eyes were passive as they turned from you. You couldn't help but notice Arthurs displeasure at Alfie being the one to do your post-fight aftercare he'd been used to handling.

You regroup swiftly, the brothers gone, leaving you and Alfie to depart together.

"You mind if I take a bottle, boss?" you say, hoisting up your dress as you walk towards the bar.

"You got all the liquor in the world at home, luv." he says, moving his hands back and forth, dismissing the idea but your back is already towards him.

"I know but I want it for the drive home. I prefer my hard liquor to be earned after a job nowadays." you say with a laugh, leaning over the bar and grabbing a bottle of whiskey and walking towards the back door. "That got us?"

"That's got you, you sneak on to the car and I'll be out after I sort this out." he says, shooing you off with his hand.

"Yes, sir." you say with faux enthusiasm, hoisting up your dress in your arms to make it easier to get to the car.

Once you settle in with a swig and your cig, letting out a loud, pleasurable exhale of a job well done, you wait for Alfie. As you sit in the dark, having spent all your energy inside, and having still been so close to recovering from your last fight, you found yourself absolutely exhausted.

You rouse as he slides into the car with a grunt. You yawn as he settles. "Good?" you ask with a stretch.

"Should be, yeah." he says with a nod as the car starts.

"That went pretty well I think." you say optimistically, settling your back against the seat, and into the coziness of his coat. Drinking from the bottle, looking miniature in the oversized coat and sleeves that hid your hands as they grasped at the bottle.

"Yeah it did." he says with an enthusiastic nod.

You nod in agreement, taking your shoes off and pulling your legs underneath you and your turn to face him, the side of your face on the back of the seat. "Alfie?" you ask, in that tone you know he recognizes.

"Yeah, luv?" he says with a half smile, voice holding amusement for your call of his name, reminding him of a cat meowing for treats.

"I'm completely fucking knackered." you admit with a lazy smile, your eyelids resting lower than usual.

He laughs at you. "Ya sleepy there little one?" he teases.

"Yeah,  little ones sleepy." you say with a slow lazy chuckle, your head leaning back on the seat, you rest the bottle in the floor.

"Well ya earned your rest after that in there tonight," he says supportively. "I believe my personal apology is in order after that wonderful show you put on. I shouldn't have questioned your judgment on the matter." he expresses genuinely, you feel him moving, speaking with his hands despite your eyes being closed. "Since ya keep goin' on and bein' right even with the odds stacked against ya." he says, not hiding that tone of being impressed and confounded at your behavior. "You'd think I'd learn." he tsks himself playfully.

"Now's not the time for praising pillow talk, Solomons, I'm tired." you smile, your eyes staying closed with your tilted back head, a smug grin on your face. -- You wait until you're out of the city and away from the lights. "Safe to unbutton this coat now?" you ask, breaking the quiet of the cabin of the car.

"Yeah, take it off if ya want, we won't run into no trouble now." he says in a tone that tells you not to be silly, do what you want. You run with this unverified permission.

You unbutton all the buttons on the long jacket, feeling better as the air hits you, cooling you immediately. You fan it a few times until you shiver, scooting closer to him and putting your head on his shoulder.

"What's this now?" he says in a laugh. "Never had a business partner do this after a job." he teases.

"Well the jobs over." you state in a bratty tone. "And I'm very tired and it's a long drive." you explain in a small voice, invading his personal space.

"You're right. Jobs over, innit?" he says readjusting how he sits to accommodate you.

"You know if my doing this truly bothers you I'll stop. Just tell me." you say almost short with him. You were genuinely fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Go to sleep." he whispers in a gruff tone you reply with a short laugh and you curl up in the seat.

Pt 21 Stand By My Girl

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[convertidophoto]

Screeching Weasel should always made me smile

I am convinced that when anyone first begins to delve into any style of music there are certain bands that “mean” more than others.  To my ears My Brains Hurts by Screeching Weasel was the best punk record by any band recording at the time of its release.  This was, at the time for me, a no-B.S./no-discussion fact and I was not interested in debating the point with anyone on any level.  The crux of my argument was how could you listen to that record and not want to smile and singalong.  When Screeching weasel popped up on the Common Ground calendar, I could not believe it. I was going to get so see the best damn punk band in America at the time and if you disagreed, you were wrong!

During 1991 punk was to me encompassed sounds as variegated as Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Dickies, Negative Approach, Born Against, Youth of Today, Flipper, the Big Boys, and Napalm Death.  In my mind, Punk was not a specific sound, or a physical look, or a fashion statement; punk was more a way of approaching daily life.  In short, punk meant doing or saying what you wanted, how you wanted to say it, when you wanted to say it, if only because if you did not say it no one else would do.  Of course, one did all this with the explicit understanding that you accepted fully the costs and benefits of your choices.  Exemplifying my belief was Screeching Weasel.  In the face of scene splintering into SxE, grindcore, crust, NYHC, Ska-punk, Dischord, peace punk, and SoCal Bro-core, Screeching Weasel played an unapologetic mix of the musical pop stylings of The Dickies and The Ramones punctuated the unvarnished lyrics/opinions of Ben Weasel.  

Pre-internet music shopping was about diligence and the experience of finding a record that informed your world differently.  In many instances, I had only heard of records from seeing them on “want-lists” or trading friends of auction adds in the back MRR.  Many of the classic HS records could not be heard unless you had a copy or new someone who had a copy.  It needs to be said over and over…it was FUGGING hard to find punk records.  Every week Chris and I would scour the used bins at Direct Hit, RPM, Forever Young Records, Recycled Books and Records, Half-Price Books, and many more little shops.  The efforts paid dividends as we connected with other punkers hunting records, the clerks who came to know us and would hold records for us or inform us of cool stuff upcoming that we should buy.  It was not convenient like now where you can read a review of band and stream or download their entire catalog in minutes.  It was through this near obsessive exercise of hunting that I first heard Screeching Weasel.

The first Screeching Weasel song I heard was “This Bud’s for You” off the MRR compilation LP They Don’t Get Paid, They Don’t Get Laid, but Boy Do They Work Hard (A D.I.Y. Complication) and I loved it!!  [I read later that the song was a joke but I don’t care.]  That LP is a classic and straight forward punk sound of the music and low-brow critique of SxE found in the title made that song my favorite. [This is no mean feat on an LP that also has Nausea, Christ of a Crutch, Jawbox, Dissent, the Detonators, Amenity, Cringer, and the Libido Boyz amongst others.]  I could empathize greatly with the anti SxE mindset; I was not a drinker of any note and I genuinely liked many of the SxE bands.  What I did not like, however, and still do not like are those that take themselves seriously rather than taking their responsibilities seriously.  More precisely, what I did not like was a more militant brand of SxE that would be known as Hardline which was beginning to rear its intolerant head in scenes around the country. I think it was this that ole Ben was targeting.  Regardless, the upbeat tempo, no frills hc punch of the song and production to match made it a standout on the LP and as a result the song made it on every comp tape I made for a few years.  In the end, the comp LP did what comp LP was supposed to do; it made you want to locate more from the best bands and I was on the hunt for Screeching Weasel.

It must have taken me nearly a year or so to find any other Screeching Weasel records.  As was often the case, our local stores didn’t stock any of their stuff and frankly they really were not the sort of band that dominated want or trade lists.  It appeared that during the late 80s and early 90s Screeching Weasel were still largely a regional band.  When Lookout Records! advertised that they were releasing the new Screeching Weasel record this began to change.

My Brain Hurts was a breath of fresh air to me when I bought it at Direct Hit Records.  Instantly, that album made much of what I been listening to or hearing sounded bloated, stale, plodding, and second-rate.  Admittedly, this was a slight overreaction but what’s the point of being young and excitable if you are to be staid and stodgy?  

The album had everything I loved about punk; the songs were catchy, it sounded timeless but remained rooted in the rooted in the past, there were no throwaways on the album, and it did not sound like anyone else at the time though clearly it remained complimentary with many bands that existed at the same time.  I played the LP to death when at home and the cassette I made of it, did its duty holding out until the end in my car’s tape deck.  I made EVERYBODY who rode in my car listen to it; friend and family alike found no reprieve or respite from the bouncy sounds when rolling with me.

By the time the day of the show arrived my proselyting meant that instead of the usual two-some, Chris and I, we browbeat another two or three of our friends to make the drive into Dallas to see Screeching Weasel. Upon arriving, it looked like this would be one of the biggest shows at Common Ground.  The street in front of the club was rent with mommy and daddy type cars.  Clearly, the suburbs were emptying tonight and all the punkers and punkettes were coming to the show.  This only added to my nearly irrepressible excitement.

Dallas had a dearth of good local bands during the early 90s.  The majority of bands merely aped their favorite bands; no matter how well a band executes this maneuver it is depressing to those that realize this. Sadly, I thought Pasty Face was such a band.  Their earliest shows saw them trying to sound like the Bad Brains to which they gradually added funk influences ala the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  By the end of their run, Pasty Face was an overt RHCP tribute band without the name to match.  Importantly though, they brought out paying kids that would ultimately benefit the headlining band.  I knew they pulled a crowd but I assumed that all the kids at Common ground this night were there to see Screeching Weasel.  IT was not the first time I was proved wrong.  Mercifully though, I chose to schmooze rather than watch Pasty Face. I cannot remember whether we were inside or outside but we just killed time as distant from Pasty Face as we could waiting for Screeching Weasel.  

Just before the band was about to start, my buddy Todd grabs me and asks if I wanted to work the stage lights.  I had no idea Common Ground had stage lights much less that they “needed to be worked”.  Of course I said yes, it seemed asinine task and I was the person for it!  As the band took the stage Ben commented into the microphone, “Where’d everybody go?”  Then only did I noticed that the crowd that once numbered 150-200 was now down to about 35 people.  [I always stood near the stage and had no reason to look behind me.]  Inexplicably and to my amazement, nearly everyone left!! Clearly most of the crowd were friends of Pasty Face and never heard of or did not care to hear Screeching Weasel…bless their hearts!

Despite the fleeing hordes, Screeching Weasel played on entertaining immensely those that remained.  In fact, the only thing that appeared to hamper their ability to play was the stage lights.  In my ignorance and exacerbated by my glee, I was flicking the switches along with the drummer beat.  I think Ben said something about it giving him a headache and making him nauseous or something like that as Todd came walking over to me in a hurry and forcibly removed me hands from the lighting controls.  Fair enough I thought, now I was free to go stand with remaining crowd in front of the stage.  The band sounded so much better from the front than the side of the stage.  

In the few breaks the band took between songs Ben talked a bit about the songs they were about to play or told amusing anecdotes.  The only funny story I remember was about the song Jeannie’s got a Problem with her Uterus. After playing that song at an earlier show, a woman came up to Ben and let into him about that song stating he was a misogynist because he wrote that song. Ben quipped that he had to wait until he got home after the show to look up what misogynist meant to know what she said to him.  The remainder of their set is lost to the ages and I can only smile thinking about it so I am guessing I enjoyed it.

           As per usual, I could not tell you how many songs they played or which other songs they played but apparently I loved it.  Those people who came with me all agreed that Screeching Weasel were great and we all left happy we came.  Before we left though, I bought a shirt and a 7” from the band that validated what I told everyone.  Though it long since stopped fitting, I still have my “Choosy punks chose Screeching Weasel” t-shirt.  The following years were good for Screeching Weasel as their popularity only grew as did my enjoyment for the band.

           It would be another couple of years before Screeching Weasel were to play Dallas again.  I think it was during the spring or summer of 1993 that they appeared on the calendar for Club No.  On this tour, Screeching Weasel had The Queers as an opening act. Oh yeah, it was going to be awesome! Unfortunately, Club No closed unexpectedly so nearly all of the shows cancelled and never happened.  Thankfully though, Todd and the coolest record store owner in Dallas stepped into save the day.  Kelly Keys offered her store for Screeching Weasel and The Queers to play a pass-the-hat show if I remember correctly.

           Direct Hit Records was small storefront in Fair Park area of Dallas.  It was at most 20 feet wide and 50 feet deep.  Nonetheless, it was an oasis in Dallas.  Kelly was a fan of underground music and she did everything she could to stock as much new and used records, tapes, CD’s, videos, and magazines as possible.  This day, Kelly pushed all the racks to the back to make some room for the bands to play and for a small number of people to watch.  Todd hipped me to the show and I drove in from Fort Worth for the midday show. I was like a kid at Christmas.  In my mind I was imaging the set list they would play replete with all my favorite songs.  This was not to be the case though.

           In keeping with the intimate nature of show, Screeching Weasel decided to play a “special” set. As Ben explained they were on their way to California to record a new album.  Since this was a small show and no too much unlike practice, the band decided they would play their entire new-as-yet-unrecorded album song for song in order.  This was the first time I ever heard Anthem for a New Tomorrow.  I must admit to preferring the versions I heard that day to the studio versions.  That album and My Brain Hurts remain my favorite Screeching Weasel albums to this day; yes, wiggle isn’t too bad either.

           Over the years, I had two more chances to see Screeching Weasel play in larger venues.  I did not go to either show.  It was not because I do not like them anymore (I still thought they wer very good) or because Ben is an asshole (boy howdy he was/is!!) but because something about them changed.  We all remember how they famously stopped playing live for a while and then their records became spotty.  Also during this period the band acquired an air of circus like hype and I didn’t care for it. For me the strength of the band was the workmen like way they went about being in a band.  Once that changed and when they became “a thing” they no longer seemed fun and frankly their albums no longer left you smiling.  The wit, humor, and bounce that punctuated their albums was replaced increasingly with bitterness, hype, and songs that are best described as filled then the whole Riverdales thing happened.  I’m still scratching my head about that…

           Screeching Weasel will always occupy a happy place in my life; my wife and I bonded over our shared loved for their early records when we first met 24 years ago. Occasionally, we still breakout those old albums and reminisce about how much we enjoy them.  Unlike me, my wife has never seen Screeching Weasel play live. It is for that reason we are going to see them play in Portland, OR this summer.  I am not sure what to expect of them 25 years after the last time I saw them but just thinking about the show and the two shows I already saw has me smiling again; for that fact I thank them.

[cadpadawan]

31-Day Music Challenge

The social media is now flooded with all kinds of funny challenges, as people are stuck at home with nothing much to do. I guess online gaming, or getting shitfaced, becomes increasingly boring, when all kinds of tiresome responsibilites, like work, do not present any restrictions and limitations anymore. In a way, Facebook has started to resonate the air of those naive first few years, when your newsfeed was basically just one continuous stream of challenge that and challenge this.

Well, why the hell not?

What else is there to do, in order to pass the time with your mental health intact?

So, here I am...just another bored individual to join this endless crusade to make life worth living again, to make my personal life great again. Thus, I jumped on the wagon, and took on this fancy 31-day music challenge, that has been circulating in Facebook (for years, I think).

Although, I didn't find it challenging enough to just type the daily keyword in the Spotify search box and post the result in my Facebook wall. Because: more is more.

(Go ask Yngwie Malmsteen, if you don't believe me...)

The challenge for day #1 was to pick a song with a colour in the title.

I could immediately come up with a bunch of songs, only to realize that the vast majority of the song titles were themed around two basic colours: black and blue. I guess songwriters are a lazy bunch, when it comes to colours. It's pretty obvious, why lyricist everywhere find these two colours exceptionally appealing and resort to the abundant use of them, neglecting all the wonderful possibilites posed by the other colours of the spectrum. Of course black and blue, in terms of emotion and imagination, are much stronger than, say, yellow and orange. So, instead of just settling with the first few titles that came to mind, I wondered if I could come up with one song for each colour I can think of. I mean: a song that bears some personal meaning to me. In practice, this challenge basically meant that I would have to think hard while rummaging through the main three Spotify playlists that I have compiled with something like +16k or +17k songtitles, with the addition of my personal collection of some +2600 cd's – at least the rarities section for songs that are not available in Spotify.

Let's see if I have the stamina to go through my cd-racks, though. I had the forethought to organize my cd's in alphabetical order, by the name of the artist, years ago. For some weird reason, my beloved spouse has not yet agreed to the idea of re-furnishing our apartment with the central theme being those precious compact discs. That's why the cd-racks are placed in somewhat random and impractical fashion: most of them are located in the living room, with a few sections located in our bedroom. I guess, it's a good thing I had disposed of my vintage Rhodes-electric piano by the time when we started dating 20 years ago. I'm pretty sure she would have opposed strongly to the idea of having the instrument as a kitchen table, with the giant lid down. My Rhodes-piano was the so-called suitcase model, with a keyboard of 73 keys. When I moved out from my parents' house in the mid-90's, I decorated my one-room-apartment in the ethos of Japanese minimalism, due to the fact that I spent most of my income on records and alcohol. That Rhodes-piano served as a kitchen table, when I wasn't actually playing with it. Because: why the hell not?

Ok, then. The first colour...it shall be black.

Oh, boy! What a multitude of choices it presents! Should I pick an iconic 90's grunge anthem, like Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun? After all, I saw the band on stage in Helsinki cirka 1995. (I say ”cirka” because I'm not 100% sure about the year, and I'm too lazy to look it up in Google) The fond memories of those grungey early years in the 90's instantly remind me of a couple of equally important bands: Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains. Although, I've never seen either of them live. Pearl Jam had a song titled Black on their breakthrough debut album Ten. Alice in Chains had a killer track titled Black Gives Way to Blue. That epochal Pearl Jam album played non-stop in my car stereos at the time of its' release. I had it copied on a C-cassette. Remember that vintage format, anyone? (Yes, I'm THAT old...) With this particular AIC song I fell in love much later, as it was the title track on the band's comeback album, released in 2009 with the new singer William DuWall. First, I kinda hesitated to give this new AIC line-up any chances, but it turned out to be pretty damn good. Obviously, nothing can top the impact, that the Laney Staley-fronted AIC made with their Dirt-album in 1992. At the time of its' release, that album was a full-blown mindfuck! In retrospect, the year 1992 seems to have been pretty kick-ass, in terms of album releases:

Alice in Chains: Dirt

Rage Against The Machine: Rage Against The Machine

R.E.M.: Automatic for the People

Pantera: Vulgar Display of Power

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes

Faith No More: Angel Dust

Dream Theater: Images and Words

Aphex Twin: Selected Ambient Works 85-92

Prince & The New Power Generation: (Love Symbol Album)

Stereo MC's: Connected

Tom Waits: Bone Machine

Sade: Love Deluxe

The Prodigy: Experience

Megadeth: Countdown to Extinction

Eric B. & Rakim: Don't Sweat the Technique

The Orb: U.F.Orb

k.d.Lang: Ingenue

Suzanne Vega: 99.9 Fº

Stone Temple Pilots: Core

Curve: Doppelganger

Nick Cave: Henry's Dream

Neneh Cherry: Homebrew

Maybe I should choose something less obvious? At least, it would make this challenge less arduous for me, because it's evident that making a choice between two particularly dear songs from the past is nothing short of impossible. When in doubt, go for the dark horse! So, here goes: my choice for the song with the colour black in the title is:

Bonobo: Black Sands

Being something of a jazz aficionado, despite not really possessing any of the musical prowess to actually play jazz myself, it was love at first soundbite, when I chanced to hear the title track from Bonobo's 2010 album Black Sands on Bassoradio's morning special back in the day. Bonobo is the musical alias of British DJ-producer-musician Simon Green. His career spawns from the 90's trip hop aesthetics, with heavy influences of jazz and world music. Spicing up electronic beats with raw jazz samples, or even live musicians, was the thing to do, somewhere along the mid-90's. I guess it all started with a few insightful hip-hop artists layering their ghetto stompers with the occassional hardbop jazz sample back in the late 80's. For a short period, acid jazz was the coolest shit ever in the early 90's. In a somewhat natural chain of events, jazz eventually made its way to the brand new genres that evolved around the middle of the decade, trip hop and jungle, too.

That's how I got sucked into the all-consuming whirlpool of this abominable voodoo music – jazz. It's a wonder no-one has come up with a gateway theory yet, regarding the highly addictive nature of jazz music. It usually starts with small doses: an occassional jazz sample is slipped in the hip-hop track, or the breakdown section of a rock song is ornamented with a brief, improvised saxophone lead. Then you find yourself craving for more, and start delving into the depths of acid jazz, nu jazz, or whatever new genre that has incorporated jazz as an inherent element in its' aesthetic toolkit. After this honeymoon period, that might spawn over years and years, you eventually catch yourself red-handed, holding a genuine jazz album in your hands at the local record store, probably the usual entry-level drug-of-choice jazz classic: Kind of Blue by Miles Davis. It has been awarded the title of the greatest jazz album of all time – and for a reason, too. Multiple times. Then you're hooked. Next thing you know, you'll be blasting John Coltrane at a family reunion, with your beloved relatives giving you the dead-eyed stare, doubting the state of your mental well-being. Long story short: you simply cannot go wrong with a mellow waltz rhythm that's punctuated with the organic groove of a flesh-and-blood jazz drummer, and topped with hauntingly beautiful brass harmony.

Next up: the colour blue...

Again, I could go for something utterly obvious, like the song titled Blue by A Perfect Circle. Those lucky few, who know me in person, should be well aware of the fact, that I'm quite a diehard fanboy of the band. I was lucky enough to see the band's live performance a few years back, when they paid Finland a visit. Nevertheless, I think I can come up with something more unexpected.

Just let me think for a sec...

Remember the band Europe? Of course you do! (Unless you were born yesterday, like some, eww, millennial!) I think it would've required some exceptional measures in the noble art of cutting contact with the external world to not have been exposed to the band's 1986 megahit Final Countdown, during the past 34 years. (Fuck! Do I feel old yet?!?) BUT...before you dismiss the band as yet another hair-metal has-been, check out this song:

Europe: Not Supposed To Sing The Blues

It's pretty damn hard to believe it's a song by the same band that's responsible for that Final Countdown atrocity. To be honest, that particular throwback 80's hard rock ear-worm wouldn't probably get under my skin in such a thoroughly repulsive fashion, had I not performed the song countless times myself. It was quite an essential part of the live repertoire of the party band, that I toured with cirka 2004-2008. The modus operandi of this covers-only band was to play the most annoying 80's megahits, with the lyrics translated in Finnish with a liberal amount of tongue-in-cheek references to gay erotica. (On a side note, the band was actually quite popular in certain small regions, despite this dubious approach and the substantially high level of bad taste incorporated in the lyrics and live performances. We even ended up playing in a genuine gay wedding once. The humour of the band was, after all, benevolent albeit a bit harsh, at least in the context of these politically correct times...)

The song Not Supposed to Sing the Blues was released in 2012. It's pretty evident, that during this 26-year-period, following the release of Final Countdown, Europe managed to grow some serious balls, hidden somewhere below my musical radar. The oriental sounding motif, played with some cool mellotron string patch in the refrain before the chorus, has a nice Led Zeppelin-esque feel to it. You can't really go wrong with a slowed-down hard rock blues that is sugar-coated with a grain of Kashmir-strings, now can you?

Next up: white...

What first comes to mind? Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum, and Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, obviously. You see, I had both of these tracks in vinyl format, way back in the early 90's, when I was going through my ”moustache prog from the 70's”-phase. (Although, this particular Procol Harum song was actually released in 1968, and the Moody Blues song in 1967 – but, in order to be consistent and thorough, I had to dig deeper, to the roots of the prog...to the very dinosaur fossils)

I could throw in White Room by Cream, too. I used to listen to these particular tracks A LOT! In the age of vinyl, conducting a music marathon themed around, say, 60's and 70's ”moustache music”, was actually quite a laborous ritual. Every 25 minutes, or so, I had to flip the side of the record. Shuffling songs totally at random was simply a no-go-zone. Nowadays, it's so easy to compile a lengthy set of personal favorites in Spotify, WinAmp, iTunes, or whatever the fuck application you'd prefer, and just hit the randomize-button...fucking millennials, they have it SO easy. They have no idea of the struggle.

That's why we had those vintage C-cassettes: to copy that very special selection of songs, compiled with tender love and care, onto a format, that didn't require you to be on a constant lookout for when the album side was closing to an end. Besides, before the onslaught of cd-players, those vintage C-cassettes were the only way to impress people with either your refined taste in music, or with the lack of it, while you were occupied with the gentle art of pussy racing, driving around downtown in your awkwardly tuned-up mirthmobile, every goddamn Friday night.

I could pick White Wedding by Billy Idol, too...

It was one of those 80's hits that I used to play with the ”covers only”-party band.

Nah...

I think I will have to choose between Aisles of White by the Aussie soft-prog band the Butterfly Effect, and The Heart of a Cold White Land by the Finnish doomsters Swallow the Sun.

My beloved wife introduced me to Aussie prog, some 10 years ago. The gateway drug, I think, was Karnivool with their music video for All I Know. One day, when I was coming home from work, I caught my wife watching this particular video in YouTube. A little bit later, she unearthed a shitload of Aussie bands in Spotify. I guess she must've been hitting that ”similar artists”-link quite relentlessly. The Butterfly Effect was one of those magnificent bands she discovered. I remember hearing the song In A Memory for the first time. It struck a chord with me, in such a profound way, that I felt compelled to order the album Imago ASAP from some Australian music webstore. At the time, the back catalogue of the Butterfly Effect wasn't available in Finland. I don't know, if it's available even now, because the band is no longer active, I think. Aisles of White is the track #2 on that album, released in 2006. The band released one more kick-ass album in 2008, titled Final Conversation of Kings, and then I don't know what the hell happened.

Swallow the Sun is a bit doomish Finnish metal band, and I'm not really sure, when I actually found the band's music. I think I had their debut album The Morning Never Came (2003) in my cd-rack for years, but it wasn't until 2012, with the release of the magnificent Emerald Forest and the Blackbird album, that I truly fell in love with the band. It took me some five years to actually haul my ass to their gig for the first time. Every single time, when I found out that they were touring nearby, I was too busy with some utterly meaningless work-related bullshit to make it. Finally, in 2017 it happened. I had managed to get rid of my soul-sucking job, although due to a pretty hardcore reason (a brain tumour), so when I found out that Swallow the Sun was performing in Helsinki, in the legendary rock venue Tavastia, I definitely made sure that I was there – and fuck me sideways! It was indeed one of the best live performances that I have ever experienced, hands down!

In 2015, Swallow the Sun released a monolithic triple album Songs From the North, and this particular track, The Heart of a Cold White Land, is on the disc II, that is focused on the beauty side of the band's doom palette.

Swallow the Sun: The Heart of a Cold White Land

Next up: Red

Sielun Veljet was one of the most iconic Finnish rock bands in the 80's. The band released only a couple of albums with lyrics in English, of which the 1989 release Softwood Music Under Slow Pillars was the only one with the songs originally written in English. There was some other attempts to gain international fame and fortune, but in those cases, the songs were merely English translations of their most beloved hit songs, initially written in Finnish. This particular album was planned for international release – but the label executives were pretty disappointed, to say the least, when the band came up with an album full of acoustic psychedelia. It was released only in Finland and Sweden. The artwork on the album cover is actually a painting by a Peruvian artist Pablo Amaringo, depicting the shamanic ayahuasca ritual. Listening through this album in one go is somewhat similar experience, I would guess: a rewarding journey into the depths of the human psyche, albeit potentially exhausting, especially if you're not exactly in the proper mindset to begin with.

Well, ever since I got exposed to the oriental psychedelia of, say, Jimi Hendrix, Kingston Wall, and the like, I seem to have acquired a taste for this kind of weird and druggy, over-the-top freeform musical expression.

Sielun Veljet: Hey-Ho, Red Banana

Ok, then...What next?

What other colours are there, anyway? The three primary colours are: red, yellow and blue. All the other colours can be derived from these three fuckers. To be precise, I think black does not actually qualify as a colour... So, I've got most of these covered already. Of course, in order to pick some hairs, printers actually use magenta, yellow and cyan as their primary colours – and black, obviously. I can't recall a single song with ”magenta” or ”cyan” in the title, though. I could come up with a band or two, with these colours in the band name, such as Magenta Skycode, or Cyan Velvet Project, but song titles?

Nada.

Maybe, if I combed through my post-rock and soundtrack archives, I could come up with some epic 15-minute instrumental with either cyan or magenta mentioned in the lengthy piece of contemporary literature, that is supposed to be the title of the song...but I guess those tracks would not exactly mean worlds to me, as I clearly cannot remember them now. If something comes to mind, while I'm writing down this epistle, I'll address that particular colour and song, accordingly. Now, I shall get on with this challenge journal, onto the next ”normal”, everyday colour...

Which is?

The colour green.

Having played keyboards in a dubious number of proggy bands, with the tonal preferences leaning heavily toward everything vintage, I might as well pick a mellow Hammond-organ classic, such as Green Onions by Booker T. & the MG's, or a vintage synth classic from THE motion picture soundtrack album of all time: Memories of Green by Vangelis, from the timeless Blade Runner soundtrack.

But I won't...

It wasn't actually easy to come up with that many titles with the colour green mentioned. Excluding these two aforementioned classics, I could barely come up with four! As much as I like the desert rock stonerism of Kuyss, the song Green Machine is not my personal favourite in their back catalogue. So that narrows my options to three. The problem is that two of these songs seem to defy the laws of quantum physics: they both take a firm stranglehold on my soul, and throw it casually down the dark and dangerous alleys of nostalgia.

In the midst of 90's acid jazz boom, I had a peculiar habit of buying compilation cd's at random, if the heading on the cover somehow suggested that the contents of the cd had anything to do with this particular genre of music. By impulse-buying music I discovered a lot of gems, like the song Apple Green by Mother Earth. The band was an English acid jazz outfit, virtually unheard of in Finland, despite the tidal wave of acid jazz washing over also these rural perimeters. If Jamiroquai, the Brand New Heavies et al. rub you the right way, you definitely need to check this band out. I can still remember clearly, as if it happened yesterday, how I picked this acid jazz compilation from the vaults of the local record store that no longer exists.

Mr. Big was a band everybody just loved to hate at the turn of the decace, when the gigantic hair-do's of the 80's started to flatten out, and flannel shirts were showing faint signs of becoming the next level shit in the never-ending quest for cool. At the time, I was an under-aged college drop-out, devoting my attention to the finer things of guitar playing techniques, instead of studying for a decent profession. I had received my first electric guitar from my parents in 1988, and for the following 5-6 years, I spent most of my time and energy in an attempt to unravel the secrets of how to play guitar like Jimi Hendrix. I listened to quite a lot of speed and thrash metal on the side, too. Y'know, bands such as Anthrax, Metallica, Slayer and Stone, which was quite a legendary Finnish speed metal band in the late 80's. My budding personal artistic expression was anyhow more influenced by legendary old timers, like Hendrix. I simply loathed all sorts of pyrotechnical wankery (with the exception of certain tracks by Steve Vai and Joe Satriani). Mr. Big's lead guitarist Paul Gilbert was famous for that very special blend of technical stuff, that I wasn't interested in, not in the slightest. So, I never really gave the band a chance. I think my misconception of the band's music as some kind of a shit-show of technical masturbation was due to some instructional videos hosted by Gilbert. After all, his fame as a highly skilled guitarist must have derived from his contributions to several guitar magazines and instructional videos, instead of his career in Mr. Big. So, everytime I heard the intro of, say, To Be With You, on my car radio, I simply had to change the channel. In order to do so, I had to manually rotate the tuning knob. Yes, my first car stereos were THAT vintage! What a time it was to be alive! Years later, with the maturity of age like with a fine wine, I finally listened to the worn-out hits of this horrid band only to find out that – bummer! - in terms of songwriting, those goddamn Mr.Big hits were actually not that bad at all. The song Green-Tinted Sixties Mind was released on the album Lean Into It in 1991. Now, everytime I am exposed to this particular song, I am instantly reminded of what a stuck-up elitistic music snob I used to be during those emotionally tumultuous times.

So, I could resort to the luck of the draw, but luckily I've got one more candidate to go.

Lonely the Brave is one of my most recent findings. It's an English alt.rock band from Cambridge, formed in 2008. I really don't know much about the band, just this one song titled The Blue, The Green. I was exposed to it while playing the music trivia game Songpop 2 with my mobile phone during the past two years, I think. The game is about guessing songs within the timeframe of a 15 second clip. Pretty addictive at first, actually. This 15-second-soundbite was enough to gain my full attention, so I had to check out the song in full, instantly. I cannot pinpoint what exactly it is, but this particular song has that vague feeling of ”something”, that draws me to listen to it, time and time again.

Lonely The Brave: The Blue, The Green

Next up: yellow.

I was first introduced to Frank Zappa's unique music in the late 80's, by my classmate Jussi, who kindly exposed me to the timeless classic Bobby Brown Goes Down. At the delicate age of 15, it was a pretty anticipated reaction that the explicit song lyrics would strike a chord. A few years later, as I was browsing through the vinyl section at the local second hand record store, I came across a pure treasure: the gatefold vinyl edition of Roxy & Elsewhere by Frank Zappa & The Mothers. In mint condition, too! Dropping the needle on the first groove on the black vinyl back home was like taking the first hit of some mind-altering illegal substance. My perception of reality changed in an instant – and there was no going back. Such an exciting mixture of fusion jazz, rock and harsh satire was sure to make me an addict. So, in no time at all I built up enough tolerance and moved onto semi-lethal dosages, and purchased the albums Hot Rats, Grand Wazoo and Apostophe('). The last one was released in the year, when I was born (1974), and it included the hilarious 4-part rock suite about the unfortunate adventures of an eskimo named Nanook. One part of the suite is titled: Don't Eat the Yellow Snow. Sound advice at the time of a global pandemic, that originated from some peculiar pathogen spillover event in China, don't cha think?

Frank Zappa: Don't Eat The Yellow Snow

Not many colours left, I think...

Next up: purple.

I was exposed to the music of Jimi Hendrix via a documentary on TV, when I was a rosy-cheeked 7th grader in junior high. It happened around the same time, when I got my first electic guitar. So, I guess it must have been written in the stars, or something. The universe simply wanted me to focus on the noble art of guitarism, instead of getting a college degree on psychopathological marketing or accounting (fuck no!). My first guitar was a cheap stratocaster-copy with a Williams-logo on it. In a way, it resembled the vintage Mellotron keyboard: it simply would refuse to keep in tune. One of the first songs that I learned, despite the frustrating limitations imposed by the crap tuners on the guitar, was Purple Haze by Hendrix. I had to learn it by ear. You see, back in the gloomy days of the late 80's, there just wasn't that many guitar tabs around. Not in Finland, anyway. Later I did find an instructional guitar playing manual at the local library, with a few pages dedicated to the art of Jimi Hendrix. Mainly, the only viable option to learn any contemporary rock song, or even any classic from the days long gone, was either to learn it by ear, or to resort to the occassional tabs provided by the international guitar magazines – if you were fortunate enough to spot these much-sought publications at your local bookstore. (These fuckin' millennials have it SO easy!) On the other hand, learning to play primarily by ear must have developed my improvisational skills a great deal, as an added bonus. Improvisation is not so much about throwing up some pre-programmed fancy gimmicks at any given chance, but actually LISTENING to what your fellow musicians are playing and responding accordingly.

Next up: grey.

I think it was my dear wife, once again, who first introduced me to the band Thrice, by playing the song Digital Sea from the band's double album Alchemy Index, a long, long time ago. The band's vocalist/guitarist Dustin Kensrue is one of those few singers, who are blessed with a distinctive voice that speaks, or to be more precise, sings volumes. He might not have the same gravitas like Mark Lanegan or Tom Waits, but nevertheless, he has the voice of a protagonist who's been to hell and back. Mark Lanegan sounds like he's got a season ticket, and Tom Waits sounds like he's the devil running the show – or, to put it in Waits' own words:

”Don't you know, there ain't no devil,

that's just God when he's drunk...”

 Tom Waits: Heartattack and Vine

Anyways, the lyrics in a Thrice song could be compiled of a list of phone numbers, or the decimals of Pi (like Kate Bush actually did), and it would still sound like a profound wisdom concerning the transformative journey of being fully human.

Thrice: The Grey

Last but not least, the colour: turquoise.

For years, I actually thought that Boards of Canada was indeed a Canadian outfit. Y'know, indie bands in particular come up with these band names that have some funny and ironic twist. Somewhere along the way, it finally dawned on me that this magnificent electronic duo is actually from Scotland. Well, of course it is! If my memory isn't playing any tricks on me now, I'm pretty sure that Soulsavers and Hidden Orchestra are Scottish, too. And they all have something in common. Each of these electronic outfits has an extraordinary and unique, boss-level prominance in the way they manage to capture emotion in their instrumentals.

Boards of Canada released a 5-minute electronic epic titled Turquoise Hexagon Sun on the album Music Has the Right to Children in 1998. The name of the song is actually a reference to the duo's recording studio Hexagon Sun. It makes it even more marvellous, that an instrumental track with a title deriving from something so mundane can touch your heartstrings so deeply. It's not that often, when an electronic instrumental with a hip-hop beat, glassy vintage synth motifs and deliberately lo-fi production paired with grainy samples, manage to do that. These Scottish bastards must've been onto something...

Well, that's pretty much all there was to the first day in this music challenge! I was supposed to pick one song, and I ended up writing a fucking novel about it...Tomorrow the plot shall thicken even more, when I introduce you to the theme of the day #2.

In the meanwhile, you can do yourself a favour and listen to:

Boards of Canada: Turquoise Hexagon Sun

Stay tuned! Cheers!

[bighousela]

🏆 Gun and a Hotel Bible 🏆 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐This film will win many awards, it’s fantastic!!!Screening at regal Cinemas at LA LIVE Saturday November 9th, theater number 8, 300 seats.This is an amazing film, Character driven, Exciting, Provocative and well written, the actors portrayal of their characters is exemplary, Our reviewers are absolutely at odds with each other right now as a large group of us just watched it as a submission to Film Fest La, it provokes conversation unlike any other film submission we have seen in three years, it has us arguing, debating, cringing, agreeing, disagreeing, and many other emotions flowing in the room, Edward was speechless for a few minutes too!!!, A few of us hated it due to ideology, but loved it too due to the content creating conversations....It's a must see and we are proud to say it is a top choice from our festival staff.www.GunandaHotelBible.comGun and a Hotel BibleNOTE: The original play was titled Gun a and Motel Bible. Motel was changed to Hotel for the film.Gun And A Hotel Bible is a provocative dialogue between a man on the verge of a violent act, and a personified Hotel Bible. Spend one hour in a desperate man's life as Pete comes "face-to-face" with everything he once believed in. Gideon (being, ya know, a Bible) doesn’t get out much. Still, he has plenty to say... but Pete’s heard it all before and he's more than ready to spar with the “Word of God.” As ideas about morality, the Bible, and God fly, the clock ticks. Gideon and Pete battle and bond as they are forced to deal with their inadequacies. Can Gideon sway Pete before Pete pulls the trigger?Bradley and Daniel have been writing and performing together for the better part of a decade. They have always bonded over good stories and good story telling. In the fall of 2017, Bradley (a big Beatles fan) pitched Daniel the idea of writing a play using a Gideon’s Bible as a character – an idea he got when listening to the Beatles’ song “Rocky Raccoon.” Eight months, several drafts, and dozens of philosophical discussions later, they brought on Alicia Joy LeBlanc to help bring the story to the stage. After an award-winning run at the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival, Embrace Entertainment greenlit the feature adaptation of the story: Gun and a Hotel Bible. Daniel and Bradley bring their differences, doubts, and deep friendship to the fore as they slug out the question: “Why do we believe what we believe?” Follow, Like and share social media sites: Instagram: instagram.com/gunandahotelbible/ Twitter: twitter.com/GunHotelBibleWords can’t describe how invested I was in Gun and a Motel Bible. As I was walking out of the theatre and to my car, a random stranger sparked a conversation with me asking me what show I had seen. I told him what I saw and his face lit up, indicating that he saw it to. We spent the rest of our walk analyzing the show. Major props to Bradley Gosnell for not only starring in it, but also being one of writers behind it. Fantastic job!! – Jake Mouchawar“An intriguing concept smartly delivered. Basically a fractured man’s debate with his forsaken faith, as the clock ticks down to a life changing act. The taut writing crackles with emotional intelligence and, given the concept, surprisingly organic comedy. Those with some scriptural familiarity will undoubtedly nod along with the inherent contradictions that are raised and debated, while those less scripturally inclined (like myself) need not worry. The play does all the work for you. It is not interested in delivering winners and losers, or even a faith-based message per se. It simply asks you to take the journey with these two characters who are impossible not to root for. Gosnell and Floren (who are also the playwrights) display razor sharp timing and, given how familiar they must be with the material, remarkably urgent, just-now deliveries. Floren’s cheerfully overeager, Mormon-on-the-doorstep enthusiasm brings levity at first, then a forceful flaws-and-all testament of faith as the ultimate healer, then finally pleaful desperation as the proverbial clock is about to run out. As the man with a dark plan, Gosnell does the emotional heavy lifting with nuance and humanity, wisely resisting the urge to play things too wrought or twitchy. It’s a performance that allows the audience to see the decent guy he must have been, punctuated by sudden outbursts of raw anger, betrayal, and self-reflective emotional reckoning. It all happens so seamlessly, it’s easy to lose sight of the high wire act these actor / playwrights have pulled off. LaBlanc makes the most of a spare, one room set. No movement wasted. Nothing false or forced. Never too little or too much. Tech work is solid. At a brisk 50 minutes, this one act journey is the best hour I can recall spending away from the smart phone in a long time.” -Baily Walker“I saw this play twice and I hope I get the chance to see it again! First thoughts…. what brilliant writing! The play has such a simple premise, but through that premise the characters take us on a complex journey of understanding what makes and justifies a moral code. At the beginning I was quick to choose my side between the characters, but just about halfway through… I couldn’t pick a side anymore as I found myself rooting for both of them. And what beautiful performances! The chemistry between actors Bradley Gosnell and Daniel Floren really brought the story to life. Their genuine/honest performances were a rollercoaster ride. One moment I was laughing out loud and just a minute later my heart was breaking. The direction was fantastic and the energy throughout the play took the suspense that was set up in the premise even further. Seeing it a second time gave me a chance to appreciate it even more, catching small details I missed the first time around. I hope to have the chance to see Gun and a Motel Bible again, share it with some friends, and I look forward to what the collaborators of this show come up with next.” – Ashton Avila“What a treat! Witty, intelligent, and refreshingly original, without isolating the audience (a tough feat when one of the characters is a BOOK!) I was laughing out loud while wrestling with my own moral dilemmas as the characters’ confronted theirs. These two talented actors bring you into some powerful and heavy debates that leave you teetering right on the edge of reason and insanity. Congrats to director, writers, and crew… it was my favorite fringe show this year!” -Ana Zimbart“This short but engrossing play was impressive on so many levels. The quality of the script: profound ideas and thoughts presented with such clear articulation and passion; you never feel as though you’re being preached to, or hit over the head with an opposing belief. The acting: these young men so embodied their characters, I really wanted them to continue their discussion; you could feel the energy and sincerity of their respective positions, as well as their disappointment, confusion and doubt. Don’t miss this one!” – Judy Burrishttps://www.hollywoodfringe.org/projects/5063Bradley Gosnell – Writer, ActorBradley Gosnell – Writer, Actor, Producer Bradley Gosnell is an actor based in Los Angeles. He continues to cut his teeth in the theatre world, rotating between producing, writing, directing, and performing (as you do in LA). He is an establishing member of Irreverent Shakespeare Project and the sketch team Safety Patrol (YouTube/ OOB). Bradley is currently working as a private acting coach and part time theatre teacher at Oaks Christian High School.Website: https://gosnellbradley.wixsite.com/actorIMDB Page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0331528/bio…Comedy Sketch Team page: safetypatrolcomedy.comDaniel Floren – Writer, ActorDaniel Floren – Writer, Actor, Producer Daniel is an actor-writer with a taste for honesty, heart, hope, and humor. As he’s journeyed from Wisconsin to TCU to Los Angeles, he’s honed a keen sense for shaping heartfelt stories. He’s acted and written for multiple screen and stage productions from the likes of Trinity Shakespeare to Comedy Central; he’s happiest in rehearsals and pitch rooms. More than anything, he wants to encourage people through stories built with meaningful logos, pathos, ethos, and Cheerios.Drama Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeNImdJvW4IComedy Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W_oWwcGxhUContact: contactdanielfloren@gmail.comWebsite: www.danielfloren.comIMDB Page: imdb.me/danielflorenAlicia Joy LaBlanc – Director Alicia Joy LeBlanc co-directed “Gun and a Hotel Bible” after directing the play version for the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival. She is a short, character actress, and writer in Los Angeles. After reading the script she jumped at the opportunity to direct it and to work with talented actors, Dan Floren and Bradley Gosnell. She was thrilled to work with director Raja Gosnell in transforming this story for the screen.IMDB page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm4251331/Raja Gosnell – Director When Raja saw the play Gun and A Motel Bible at the LA Fringe Festival he was beyond impressed with the intelligent writing and emotional acting. Hearing the reactions on the sidewalk after the show, and how the play served as an impetus for deep conversations, he was convinced that story should be brought to the screen.This was an opportunity for Raja to walk along side the young imaginative minds who created the story and help them bring the project to life on film. After meetings with writers Bradley and Daniel to discuss their vision, it was clear that they would serve as producers as well as actors. Having had been trusted to bring the story to the stage, it was important that director Alicia LeBlanc be a part of the team. Her blocking, understanding of the characters and coaching of the actors were as valuable on set as in the theatre.The cast and crew consisted of some established professionals together with many young artists at the beginning of their careers, giving freely of their time and talents. The energy, support and love on the set proved vital to this independent production with a small budget. The entire film was shot in under a week so it took unselfish teamwork to pull it off. Co-Director, Alicia LaBlanc also served as script supervisor. PAs were also stand-ins. Producers served meals and hauled props. The cast and crew were small in number but big in heart!Raja Gosnell has been in the movie business for four decades. After editing blockbusters such as Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire, he transitioned into directing. Directing credits include the Smurfs films, Big Momma’s House, Never Been Kissed, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua.Chelsea Gonnering – Producer Born and raised in Southern California, Chelsea grew up surrounded by art and music thanks to her parents and older sister. Chelsea spent the first two thirds of her life as a dancer, studying and performing ballet, jazz, and contemporary. It was in college that Chelsea’s interests turned to film and television production. Chelsea moved to Los Angeles 10 years ago and began navigating the world of freelance production. Since then, Chelsea has worked on a variety of projects spanning the entertainment spectrum. From docu-reality series and variety specials to feature films and new media.Chelsea’s first few jobs were with the legendary live TV Producer and Director Don Mischer. Chelsea has worked on multiple Oscar telecasts as well as AFI Lifetime Achievement Awards, Comedy Central Roasts, and charity shows such as Red Nose Day, Muscular Dystrophy Association Telethon, and Seth Rogan’s Hilarity For Charity. Chelsea has worked on the independent films, Save the Date, Non-Stop to Comic-Con, In The Family, and Love Sonia.Celeste Provart – Executive Producer Celeste maintains a passion for the arts as she has her entire life. She has dedicated time to a variety of performing arts as a performer, director, choreographer, and more. In her early career, she was a casting assistant for films and television. Years later she established the theater department at Oaks Christian Middle School. In those early years, she did everything from set building to wardrobe – and always “recruited” her kids to pitch in. After all, “Many hands make for light work!” Currently, she splits her time between learning (thank you Hidden Brain, TED talks & Audibles!) writing, and family. She is always eager to attend original and creative small theatre performances in whichever city she finds herself. In these humble venues, she finds the new, creative works which inspire and engage. Producing Gun and a Hotel Bible has been a privilege.Robert Arnold – Director of Photography Director of photography Robert Arnold is an accomplished cinematographer who is equally at home working with high art, drama and VFX productions.From studio to independent productions, Arnold is admired for his skill with lighting diverse skin tones and his warm, collaborative approach to filmmaking.Most recently, Arnold has been shooting commercials, short films, documentaries and television series. In 2018-19 he operated B Cam/Steadicam on ABC’s Grown•ish, staring Yara Shahidi, for Mark Doering-Powell, ASC. Previously he operated B Cam/Steadicam for his long time friend and cinematographer Tommy Maddox on the Netflix Original Series titled “Huge in France” starring French comedian Gad Elmaleh.In 2018, Arnold lensed a spec commercial for director Monty Marsh who is a part of the Commercial Directors Diversity Program (CDDP), a joint venture between the Association of Independent Commercial Producers (AICP) and the Directors Guild of America (DGA). A member of the International Cinematographers Guild I.A.T.S.E. Local 600, Arnold’s past credits include serving as a camera operator on The Walking Dead and Chicago P.D., working alongside his mentor cinematographer Rohn Schmidt, whom he met on The Chicago Code. Arnold also worked as on films and television series, such as: La La Land, Furious 7, Scandal, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Big Little Lies. On Big Little Lies, Arnold collaborated closely with director Jean-Marc Vallée, OC to compose the series’ beautiful frames, designing shots and occasionally lensing second unit.Having been a professional filmmaker for more than 14 years, Arnold’s passion for cinematography began with his admiration for films photographed by Matthew Libatique, ASC; Ernest Dickerson, ASC; Wally Pfister, ASC; Darius Khondji, ASC, AFC, ACS.This led him to cultivate his craft for cinematography at Columbia College Chicago where he received his Bachelors of Arts in Cinematography, as well as at the prestigious American Film Institute where he was awarded a Masters of Fine Arts degree in Cinematography. While balancing his undergraduate studies, Arnold’s ambition led to an electrician apprenticeship on Fox Searchlight’s Roll Bounce with James Muro as the cinematographer. Two years later, Arnold joined Chicago’s I.A.T.S.E. Studio Mechanics Local 476.The young cinephile would further his occupation becoming a grip/electrician on features, television series and commercials between Chicago and New Mexico. Arnold cites world renowned cinematographers John Simmons, ASC; Geary McLeod, ASC; Rohn Schmidt; Amir Mokri; Dave Perkal, ASC; and Yves Bélanger, CSC as his mentors. Arnold is based in Los Angeles, with Chicago being his hometown.Ed Smart – Composer Ed Smart is an award-winning composer for television and film, having composed themes and scores for series on Discovery, HBO, CBS, A&E, TLC, Velocity, Nickelodeon and OWN, among others. He composed the score to the Oscar-nominated documentary feature Hank Aaron: Chasing the Dream, executive produced by Denzel Washington and the HBO series Arli$$. Recent projects include the television series A Haunting (Discovery) and Fantomworks (Velocity). As a multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and orchestrator, Ed has worked with many award-winning artists, including Beyoncé, Jewel, Amy Grant, Jennifer Hudson, Michael W. Smith, and Kirk Franklin.Website: https://www.edsmartmusic.comKeseh Morgan – Production Designer Keseh Morgan’s love for creating spaces was cultivated through an admiration of architecture, landscape and storytelling. Production Design found her, lost in a writers room searching for a more immediate creative output. For the last 8 years, Keseh has cultivated a successful award-winning career that spans films, commercials and music videos. As a production designer, Keseh owns her creative space. Through collaboration with strong production crews her vision truly represents the character’s narrative journey. She lives and works in Pasadena, California. Her favorite dessert is butterscotch pudding and she believes that all art is created through some mischief and magic. https://pin.it/yjlxa5lsie27l7

[freelanews-blog]

Breeding Science Students

🎼🎼🎼 Won ti po chemical po, awon mo science students Kosewe, kosegbo, kosewe, kosegbo Kosewe, kosegbo, kosewe, kosegbo Won ti po'mi gutter po, oju ti dirty🎼🎼🎼 The popular hip hop artiste, Olamide a.k.a Baddo, is one musician that has sung songs on drugs and people are torn between accusing him promoting drug abuse and creating awareness about the scourge. Olamide is one musician I like any time, any day and any mood I find myself. So, forgive me if it appears I am going to be subjective in this regards. Personally, I believe he has done more in creating awareness of the vibrant, even thriving ‘drug abuse industry’ out there by people of all ages, all socio-economic standing, religions, across all ethnic divides. This abuse takes the form of people using different pharmaceutical and psychochemical substances- pawpaw leaves, Indian Hemp Marijuana--igbo, heroin, Tramadol, alcohol, cough syrup and ‘omi gutter’ (some go as far as inhaling gases from sewage soakaway/septic tanks) included, among others. My focus, however, as it has been since I started inundating you with my thoughts on children, is on how they are readily getting into drugs these days. That is where the title from Olamide’s song, Science Students, comes in. Society seems to be creating a time-bomb, a tsunami it is seemingly oblivious of. From parents to friends, opinion moulders to celebrities, etc., through our actions, inactions, reactions, negligence, silence and complacence, we are complicit in ‘breeding science students’ and creating juvenile junkies at an alarming rate. Olamide’s Science Students are actually the army of growing junkies and drug addicts in our society today. In recent times, a BBC documentary brought to the fore the very endemic nature of this scourge in Nigeria How so? A disturbing video surfaced on Facebook some days ago. A mother who presumably carried her child-a boy, for nine solid months; a mother who I feel should naturally want the best for her child; a mother who should strive towards making her child ‘somebody’ in life, was feeding him a bottle of Hero lager. For those who don’t know, Hero is a beer brand from the stables of SABMiller Plc. The proud mother in the video was quick to tell onlookers who seem to have a kind of bemused amusement at the ‘child drinking prodigy’s prowess, that her little boy, who is not more than four, consumes two bottles of that lager at a sitting! For an adult I know pegging the limit of his beer consumption to three bottles at most, I must certainly doff my hat even though it is for something I consider very negative. Yet another video showed a man from one of these East Asian countries feeding a toddler beer. This toddler has grown to like the 'beverage' so much that she (I think it’s a girl) will not drink from her feeding bottle. For the avoidance of doubt, these little children are already into drugs. A few years back, I told a group of people that alcohol generally is a drug. “No way,” they disagreed. So I had to unearth Wikipedia’s definition of what drugs are: “A drug is any substance (other than food that provides nutritional support) that, when inhaled, injected, smoked, consumed, absorbed via a patch on the skin, or dissolved under the tongue causes a physiological (and often psychological) change in the body. Key words for me there are physiological and psychological change. When beer is consumed, does it cause physiological and psychological change? The answer is a definite yes! Now that we have established that fact, I go back on track. I have seen what drugs can do to adults first hand, let alone what it can do to children. I can relate an experience of a young boy who had the unfortunate experience of getting addicted to smoking cigarettes at a very young age. He was barely seven when he began to smoke it. Something that started as ‘catching harmless fun’ with playmates using sticks of grasses in the cold of Jos, Plateau State, soon blossomed into trying a real cigarette one day, and the rest, as they say, is history. To maintain his newly found addiction, he had to steal from both parents to make ends meet. He graduated to finishing a pack in less than two days at a time! Unfortunately for him-or so he thought at that time, he got caught. Interestingly, and according to the young adult, his father who had beat the addiction to cigarettes was on hand to guide me out of the habit. The process, I assure you is a tale for another day. Now, you will agree with me that these children have been led to drugs by the very people God has made their custodians, their parents. If you follow Pastor Tony Rapu, a medical doctor, filmmaker, life coach and the Senior Pastor of the House of Freedom and the works he does with drug abuse victims on Instagram, you will understand that the problem at hand is endemic! No one is spared, no matter the disposition, bias and echelon of life they belong. Some of the victims he worked on were runaways from very rich families. Permit me to share a very insightful and of course, incisive account from an unknown author. The source, Whatsapp: I'm probably one if not the youngest here so permit me to speak up. I attended Kings College Lagos and graduated in the 1990's. A lot of our parents had no clue how some of us were already drunk by 10am in school or how we smoked a pack of Benson and Hedges per day at age 15. They had no clue how we scaled fences from our Victoria Island campus to Bar beach in the mornings to smoke weed and visit prostitutes at Lekki beach, literally waking them up to lay with them. I smoked weed once at age 16 for the first time when a classmate named Danjuma took us to Bar-beach and introduced us to it. That day happened to be my last time by some stroke of luck or my mother’s prayers. For some weird reason I despised the uncontrolled actions of my friends after we returned to school and vowed not to be like them. I was told I didn't smoke the weed well hence my calmness so I was invited back the next day but I declined. Danjuma never finished school. Mo is dead. John is a nuisance till date and a full junkie. Atu who was raised at 1004 is roaming the streets of the Island raving mad. This all started in 1994. This is 25 years after and it's amazing how naive some parents are- end of story. The truth is, drugs abuse has evolved assuming different dimension. Interestingly however, the peer pressure and influence still remain. Children have a daunting task in school facing peer pressure influence to do drugs. Songs, movies and television programmes are not helping matters. With more internet connected mobile phones at hand and the fast rising presence of children on social media (some parents actually encourage their children to use more of it), among others, parents have their work cut out for them. As the times gets harder, parents, like the hunter that must learn to shoot without missing, need to do more, become more vigilant and take more interest in the affairs of their children. As a psychologist myself, the major work of parenting is done by the time the child is 13 years old, even though they only become confident enough to show their true character much later. The truth of this position is one I can readily relate to. During an enlightenment engagement, I was at a loss on how I would pass ‘sensitive’ information on drug use and sexual health to most of my students who will come from the junior classes. You can imagine my shock when I found out that my trepidation was unfounded as many of my students have crossed the Rubicon as far as these issues were concerned! Imagine my students schooling me on the new ingenious ways of getting ‘high’! The truth is these children, at some point, know so much more than we give them credit for and they have seen or even experienced more than we imagine possible! As a child, I knew much more than my parents gave me credit for. We need to be extra vigilant and engage our children like never before not in arguments but from a place of knowledge about repercussions of certain actions. Drug abuse prevention starts with parents learning how to talk with their children about difficult topics. Equip them enough to be able to answer any question friends may ask in a bid to sway them or bend them to do their bidding. Believe me, this is very important. It makes absolutely no sense to lie to them. They will try to find out from their friends and then expose your lies. As an example, a young innocent boy, let us call him Tayo, once asked his mom where babies came from. Without hesitation, she told him that when couples get married, they pray to God every day and when they are asleep in the night, an angel drops the child at their house before they wake. He believed her story wholeheartedly- why wouldn’t he? His mother will not lie to him… or so he thought. Well, it happened he entered into an argument with his friend, whose father recently remarried after the death of his mother. He gave him the graphical details of what married couples do before they have children. How did he know? He peeped when his parents were at it. Other friends corroborated his story, and that was it! So Tayo came into the conclusion that if he needed genuine answers to his questions, his friends will readily provide them. Also, parents should learn to become their children’s best friends… listen to them and talk to them. I have vowed to become my own children’s best friends because mine were not to be. My father is over sixty and retired, yet, when I talk with him, I punctuate with ‘sir’ and still hold this air of formal reverence for him. I have never hugged that man-now this was never a problem. Thankfully, I didn’t grow to become something negative but I was never able to share things I consider sensitive with him. Do help your child make good choices and good friends. Children are more easily influenced by those they move with. Help them choose their friends. As a child, I never liked that my parents chose my friends for me: but today, I am grateful they did as some of the persons they warned me against ended up on the wrong side of society and the law. Teach your child different ways to say “No!” and mean it. More importantly, you as their parents are the strongest influence that they have. There is no guarantee that your child will not do drugs, but drug use is much less likely to happen if you provide guidance and clear rules about not using drugs, spend time with them and avoid using tobacco or other drugs yourself. Popular American Novelist, James Baldwin once noted that children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them. How fittingly true! More importantly, after we have done all these, we must pray for them too. It's a tough time to be a parent but it was never easy in the first place. I hope you enjoyed and learnt from this week’s reflections? Please leave your comments below or reach me on ….. Enjoy the week(end). Read the full article

[themusicjerk]

A Tribe Called Quest - People’s Instinctive Travels And The Paths Of Rhythm

On my way back to Travis’s house to return his copy of Never Mind The Bollocks, I ran into my friend Dom. We started talking and I told him about my new blog. I showed him the CD Travis had lent me, told him how awful it was, and asked him how anyone could possibly think music was a worthwhile endeavor. He just laughed, went inside, and handed me another CD. A Tribe Called Quest, as I understand it, is a hip-hop group, and my brief exposure to hip-hop through the aural onslaught which is Drake’s “Best I Ever Had,” leaves me with no high hopes for this record. Dom insists that this album is nothing like Drake. I can only hope that’s true.

A Tribe Called Quest is composed of Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed Muhammed, and Jarobi White, so they were following in the Sex Pistols’ footsteps of having two people with gross names and two people with normal names. Perhaps when one’s parents are so self-centered as to name their child after a cottonswab, that child has no choice but to devote him or herself to the sordid and good for nothing trade of music. But I digress.

The album begins with the whooshing of wind chimes and echoes of gongs. Apparently, they recorded this on a very blustery day. A baby cries. I agree, baby. I agree. I will agree that this is unlike Drake - Drake at least made some effort to introduce a melody into his songs.

Once the baby finally shuts up, we are treated to a two bar drum loop with a piano line of ugly chords and a guitar riff repeated over and over again. Q-Tip starts monologuing about something or other - someone forgot to tell him that music is not theatre, music involves melody. At various points in the first song, “Push It Along,” the guitar, piano, and drums just stop playing entirely, as if to say, “If Q-Tip doesn’t want to try music, we shouldn’t either.” But then, like some sort of twisted Chinese water torture, the instruments come back in. 

Four minutes in, they bring out a saxophone, the worst of all instruments. Saxophones are reedy, and listening to them sounds for all the world like someone wiggling a piece of wood in my ear. I’m almost happy to hear Q-Tip’s monologue return after the saxophone goes away - but perhaps that’s Stockholm Syndrome.

Remember my analogy to Chinese water torture? Five minutes into the song, you can hear the dripping. They did this on purpose. Over a one-bar bass and clapping loop, Q-Tip recites the title of the album and introduces the group, while they all hoot and holler behind him. “Music” is far too positive a word for this, and this from someone who hates music. I’d be happy to meet these people individually, but their insistence to “keep [the one-bar loop] rolling” suggests that knowing them would be to endure their brand of Chinese water torture.

 “Luck Of Lucien” is the same thing - two-bar drum loop, guitar and bass lines in conflicting keys, stranger, monologuing on top. And what is he saying?

“But listen brother man, I really think you can Succeed with the breed of the brothers on your back It’s the creme de la creme, and you can vouch for that It’ll take a minute, rice, so take my advice Trust in us, and thus you trust in your life Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien - you should know” I don’t want to trust anyone who shoehorns lyrics about creamy minute rice into his soliloquys. Shakespeare must be rolling over in his grave.

The sound of a broken record player or possibly a man wiping a tablecloth with a sponge introduces the third song, “After Hours.” Unlike The Sex Pistols, who had to rely on vulgar noises from their own bodies and voices, A Tribe Called Quest is willing to bring in whatever vulgar noises from outside they might want, including chirping frogs.

I must say, though, Dom was absolutely right about this not sounding like Drake. In fact, of the three songs I knew before I started this project, this is most similar to Charles Mingus’ “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” in that notes are thrown together haphazardly as if the composers had never heard what the major scale is actually supposed to sound like. At least the Sex Pistols used scales, and even they had more melody than this.

The torturous stop-and-start of the instrumentals makes me wonder if the band gets tired of playing their boring music. It doesn’t sound particularly difficult to play. Hold on, let me do some more research. Nobody? Nobody in this band played in an instrument? No wonder they’re stuck playing the same two bars over and over again. If none of them can play an instrument, and none of them can sing, where did they get the idea to be musicians? At least Steve Jones pretended to know how to play the guitar. To think Dom had the audacity to tell me this was BETTER than the Sex Pistols. Somehow, this has managed to be worse.

It would also explain why the out-of-tune trumpet blasts on “Footprints” seemed like a good idea to anyone. I hate music, and I know more about music than these guys. And just like the Sex Pistols, they appear to have invited marching Christmas carolers into the studio.

“I left my wallet in El Segundo?” Q-Tip isn’t even trying anymore. This isn’t a song. This is a complaint. This is a thing you mutter on the subway to your decreasingly enthused travel companions. Someone vaguely banging on things in the background that might as well just be the sound of a subway train going over train tracks and in and out of tunnels. I can get this experience just by riding my local bullet train.

“Pubic Enemy?” Did they even proofread this? There’s an ‘L’ in “public.” Also, anyone who writes a song about being a sexual skeeve should rethink their “pubic” [sic] image. Is the appeal of all music that we have "pubic” [sic] confessions from wanted criminals? Yesterday we humored anarchists and here perverts. 

“There’s four friends of mine that thought they were bad And laid up this girl, so now, they’re sad.” That’s what guilt can lead to. So sorry you compromised your virtues and now have to suffer the consequences. Not.

“Bonita Applebum” features some strange kazoo-like instrument that is simultaneously sharp and flat that only plays when the other instruments get tired. This is clever because they’ve changed the game on us - no longer is the drum loop the anxiety-causing torturous drip, because now the silence is filled by something much worse. 

Yes, you may “kick it,” if by “kick it,” you refer to leaving. At this point the drum beats don’t even sound like real drums, but distorted and warped like they were soaked in water beforehand, or perhaps replaced with a cow slowly being pressed through a loom against her will. I’m even starting to miss Johnny Rotten’s ear for cacophony, as it made me want to tear my own hair out considerably less.

In addition to the two-bar drum-and-bass loop and the bizarre recitation on “Youthful Expression,” the group has decided to artificially raise and lower the pitches of their voice for squeaky grievances reminiscent of a puppet show.

“No banana, I ain’t no primate,” Q-Tip repeats his preference for creamy minute rice. To each their own, I guess. Toward the end of the song, we get what might actually be enjoyable piano phrases - but again, repeated so endlessly that we’re sick of them before the already-played-out drum-and-bass loop comes back in full swing.

Sonically, nothing is happening on this record. Just like the Sex Pistols, the band has written the same song 12 times - except that there are 14 songs on this album. “Rhythm (Devoted To The Art Of Moving Butts),” for its vulgar name, seems to have based itself around the noise of an angry puma, or perhaps a dying macaw, which I can only imagine is complaining about the drum loop they’ve been forced to listen to on and off for the last forty minutes.

Dom did mention that the importance of hip-hop was in the lyrics, but lyrics like:

“You’re a disc jock, then jock this Rhythms can’t lose, rhythms can’t miss If you feel uptight and need to freak It’ll be all right once we drop this beat” Seem as vapid and puerile as you could expect any lyric to be.

“Mr. Muhammed” leads with a man singing the same three-note non-melody over and over again over a bass that sounds like a wet fart or a mud drill. This is punctuated by what is either a crowd cheering (for some unknown reason) or the sound of an ocean wave because a tsunami is approaching the studio. In Phife Dawg’s verse, he rhymes such exciting words as dish with dish, tense with tense, groove with groove, and it with no.

To further extol the virtues of minute rice, the group denounces ham and eggs. This is the closest thing to a melody I’ve heard since I started this project, but someone should tell the group that the emphasis in “cholesterol” is not on the last syllable. At least they tried. Phife also lets us in on a secret: his favorite foods are lemons and limes. What important lyrics these are.

“Go Ahead In The Rain,” distinguishes its two-bar loop with the sound of a lost and confused man saying, “huh?” as if he’s trying to figure out why this band is even allowed in the studio. Q-Tip even repeats “devoted to the art of moving butts,” indicating that he himself can’t tell the difference between any of these songs. Two-bar drum loop, rambling about minute rice on top, and occasionally dropping the beat because the non-existent band gets tired.

The last song on the album is called “Description of a Fool.” Let me see - wears glasses, hates music, and has best friends named Travis and Dom. That’s me. I’m a fool for having agreed to listen to this trash or to have started this project. I have a feeling that my friends are giving me the worst of the worst on purpose. I knew music was bad, but I didn’t know it could be this bad. I’m a fool for sitting here for the last hour hoping I would hear something good in this, only to be teased by maybe two seconds of enjoyable piano on a CD lasting over an hour. Q-Tip doesn’t even talk for the last two minutes of the album, he just leaves us with the same two-bar drum loop and a couple different repetitive guitar riffs. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that this album was made entirely from that GarageBand software that came with my MacBook. 

GarageBand? More like GarbageBand. That’s my whole review of A Tribe Called Quest. Anyway, I have to go return Travis’s CD.

If you think music is good, send me music, and I will tell you why you are wrong!

[nonbinarysasquatch]

Where is Josh’s Friend?

New punctuation for season 2 episode titles!

I did a lot of defending of Rebecca in season 1. Or at the very least discussing the things that make her work and the emotional motivations behind her actions. I am gonna do a lot more defending of Rebecca before this is all over.

But right of the top of season 2, Rebecca really makes me angry. Not just angry but also disappointed after seeing how far she came at the end of season 2. She has often manipulated people and she has told countless lies but something about her outright gaslighting Josh really gets my goat. Is it worse than what she did in the texting episode? Well, probably not, but whatever sympathy I felt there I don’t feel here. Not cool, Becks. Super not cool.

Maybe it’s because of been in the position of someone mistreating me then gaslighting me into thinking it was my fault. But ugh. Not OK.

So we quickly flashforward three weeks to find Josh and Rebecca… having a really unhealthy relationship. It’s not even really a romantic relationship. Josh is using Rebecca for sex and a place to sleep. Rebecca is, naturally, in denial.

Paula, for her part, isn’t into the Rebecca/Josh ship anymore. It was a fantasy and the reality of it doesn’t live up to the romanticized dream. Paula can see that even if Rebecca can’t yet.

But at home, things are going well for Paula. Her sex life with Scott is much better (shoutout to the Amazon Prime sponsorship in this episode.) Scott is being a good, supportive partner in this episode. Not telling her what to do, but offering supportive advice and bestowing her with his confidence that she will know what to do with the void in her life.

Josh is seriously struggling with his own immaturity. He doesn’t want to stay with Rebecca, especially not after his HILARIOUS Greg/Falcon dream (KA-KAW!) Not even sexy times with handcuffs is enough to keep him around.

Hector tells Josh to move back home and Josh has the audacity to tell Hector that he needs to grow up. Pot observe kettle. Josh even tries to sleep at Aloha but his boss, naturally, isn’t cool with that.

Rebecca decides that the key to getting Josh to stick around is resolving things with Greg. Rebecca goes to Paula for help, accidentally trying to seduce her and feeling up her crotch under the table. She does in fact convince Paula to help find Greg, getting turned on by Paula’s hacker skills. Why is Rebecca suddenly having sexual feelings towards Paula? I have no idea. And her mind is preoccupied with other things.

So Paula and Rebecca find Greg… at a Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Greg is an alcoholic, something subtly foreshadowed all through season 1. Greg is letting go of his anger and dealing with his problems. He even mentions alcohol giving him that feeling like glitter is exploding inside of him.

And that makes Paula realizes that is what she feels when she does bad things with Rebecca and decides she needs to stop for good. She asks Rebecca to agree to not ask her to perform shenanigans, even making her sign a contract. This is an incredible sign of growth for Paula, who ends the episode applying to law school.

This is, in essence, what Rebecca needs to do with her life. She needs to stop pursuing that feeling like glitter is exploding inside of her and find what she really loves (*cough* musical theater *cough*.)

The episode ends with Josh coming to get his socks. He and Rebecca agree they shouldn’t have sex or pursue a romantic relationship, which naturally leads to them having sex and him sleeping in her bed, which she takes as a romantic sign. If only things were so simple, Becks.

The Songs:

I’m Just a Girl In Love: My favourite of the seasonal theme songs so far. It’s such a catchy show tune.

Love Kernels: Can you really go wrong with a line like “I’m like a sexy fashion cactus” or Rebecca in a hamster hat going “slurp, slurp.” This is obviously one of the most well made and expensive music videos they’ve done, though the part about having spent all their production budget is a joke. They spend money responsibly!

We Should Definitely Not Have Sex Right Now: Gotta love the jazzy, slightly 80s sequel background to this. This song isn’t bad but I would like it a lot more if I didn’t hate Josh and Rebecca making terrible choices so much.

Episode Rating: 9.0 out of 10.0.

Honestly, the character growth for Paula and Greg elevates what is otherwise a very frustrating start to the second season.

[bighousela]

🏆 Gun and a Hotel Bible 🏆 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This film will win many awards,  it’s fantastic!!!

Screening at regal Cinemas at LA LIVE Saturday November 9th, theater number 8, 300 seats.

This is an amazing film, Character driven, Exciting, Provocative and well written, the actors portrayal of their characters is exemplary, Our reviewers are absolutely at odds with each other right now as a large group of us just watched it as a submission to Film Fest La, it provokes conversation unlike any other film submission we have seen in three years, it has us arguing, debating, cringing, agreeing, disagreeing, and many other emotions flowing in the room, Edward was speechless for a few minutes too!!!, A few of us hated it due to ideology, but loved it too due to the content creating conversations....

It's a must see and we are proud to say it is a top choice from our festival staff. 

www.GunandaHotelBible.com

Gun and a Hotel Bible

NOTE: The original play was titled Gun a and Motel Bible. Motel was changed to Hotel for the film.

Gun And A Hotel Bible is a provocative dialogue between a man on the verge of a violent act, and a personified Hotel Bible. Spend one hour in a desperate man's life as Pete comes "face-to-face" with everything he once believed in. Gideon (being, ya know, a Bible) doesn’t get out much. Still, he has plenty to say... but Pete’s heard it all before and he's more than ready to spar with the “Word of God.” As ideas about morality, the Bible, and God fly, the clock ticks. Gideon and Pete battle and bond as they are forced to deal with their inadequacies. Can Gideon sway Pete before Pete pulls the trigger?

Bradley and Daniel have been writing and performing together for the better part of a decade. They have always bonded over good stories and good story telling. In the fall of 2017, Bradley (a big Beatles fan) pitched Daniel the idea of writing a play using a Gideon’s Bible as a character – an idea he got when listening to the Beatles’ song “Rocky Raccoon.” Eight months, several drafts, and dozens of philosophical discussions later, they brought on Alicia Joy LeBlanc to help bring the story to the stage. After an award-winning run at the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival, Embrace Entertainment greenlit the feature adaptation of the story: Gun and a Hotel Bible. Daniel and Bradley bring their differences, doubts, and deep friendship to the fore as they slug out the question: “Why do we believe what we believe?” Follow, Like and share social media sites: Instagram: instagram.com/gunandahotelbible/ Twitter: twitter.com/GunHotelBible

Words can’t describe how invested I was in Gun and a Motel Bible. As I was walking out of the theatre and to my car, a random stranger sparked a conversation with me asking me what show I had seen. I told him what I saw and his face lit up, indicating that he saw it to. We spent the rest of our walk analyzing the show. Major props to Bradley Gosnell for not only starring in it, but also being one of writers behind it. Fantastic job!! – Jake Mouchawar

“An intriguing concept smartly delivered. Basically a fractured man’s debate with his forsaken faith, as the clock ticks down to a life changing act. The taut writing crackles with emotional intelligence and, given the concept, surprisingly organic comedy. Those with some scriptural familiarity will undoubtedly nod along with the inherent contradictions that are raised and debated, while those less scripturally inclined (like myself) need not worry. The play does all the work for you. It is not interested in delivering winners and losers, or even a faith-based message per se. It simply asks you to take the journey with these two characters who are impossible not to root for. Gosnell and Floren (who are also the playwrights) display razor sharp timing and, given how familiar they must be with the material, remarkably urgent, just-now deliveries. Floren’s cheerfully overeager, Mormon-on-the-doorstep enthusiasm brings levity at first, then a forceful flaws-and-all testament of faith as the ultimate healer, then finally pleaful desperation as the proverbial clock is about to run out. As the man with a dark plan, Gosnell does the emotional heavy lifting with nuance and humanity, wisely resisting the urge to play things too wrought or twitchy. It’s a performance that allows the audience to see the decent guy he must have been, punctuated by sudden outbursts of raw anger, betrayal, and self-reflective emotional reckoning. It all happens so seamlessly, it’s easy to lose sight of the high wire act these actor / playwrights have pulled off. LaBlanc makes the most of a spare, one room set. No movement wasted. Nothing false or forced. Never too little or too much. Tech work is solid. At a brisk 50 minutes, this one act journey is the best hour I can recall spending away from the smart phone in a long time.” -Baily Walker

“I saw this play twice and I hope I get the chance to see it again! First thoughts…. what brilliant writing! The play has such a simple premise, but through that premise the characters take us on a complex journey of understanding what makes and justifies a moral code. At the beginning I was quick to choose my side between the characters, but just about halfway through… I couldn’t pick a side anymore as I found myself rooting for both of them. And what beautiful performances! The chemistry between actors Bradley Gosnell and Daniel Floren really brought the story to life. Their genuine/honest performances were a rollercoaster ride. One moment I was laughing out loud and just a minute later my heart was breaking. The direction was fantastic and the energy throughout the play took the suspense that was set up in the premise even further. Seeing it a second time gave me a chance to appreciate it even more, catching small details I missed the first time around. I hope to have the chance to see Gun and a Motel Bible again, share it with some friends, and I look forward to what the collaborators of this show come up with next.” – Ashton Avila

“What a treat! Witty, intelligent, and refreshingly original, without isolating the audience (a tough feat when one of the characters is a BOOK!) I was laughing out loud while wrestling with my own moral dilemmas as the characters’ confronted theirs. These two talented actors bring you into some powerful and heavy debates that leave you teetering right on the edge of reason and insanity. Congrats to director, writers, and crew… it was my favorite fringe show this year!” -Ana Zimbart

“This short but engrossing play was impressive on so many levels. The quality of the script: profound ideas and thoughts presented with such clear articulation and passion; you never feel as though you’re being preached to, or hit over the head with an opposing belief. The acting: these young men so embodied their characters, I really wanted them to continue their discussion; you could feel the energy and sincerity of their respective positions, as well as their disappointment, confusion and doubt. Don’t miss this one!” – Judy Burris

https://www.hollywoodfringe.org/projects/5063

Bradley Gosnell – Writer, Actor

Bradley Gosnell – Writer, Actor, Producer Bradley Gosnell is an actor based in Los Angeles. He continues to cut his teeth in the theatre world, rotating between producing, writing, directing, and performing (as you do in LA). He is an establishing member of Irreverent Shakespeare Project and the sketch team Safety Patrol (YouTube/ OOB). Bradley is currently working as a private acting coach and part time theatre teacher at Oaks Christian High School.

Website: https://gosnellbradley.wixsite.com/actor

IMDB Page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0331528/bio…

Comedy Sketch Team page: safetypatrolcomedy.com

Daniel Floren – Writer, Actor

Daniel Floren – Writer, Actor, Producer Daniel is an actor-writer with a taste for honesty, heart, hope, and humor. As he’s journeyed from Wisconsin to TCU to Los Angeles, he’s honed a keen sense for shaping heartfelt stories. He’s acted and written for multiple screen and stage productions from the likes of Trinity Shakespeare to Comedy Central; he’s happiest in rehearsals and pitch rooms. More than anything, he wants to encourage people through stories built with meaningful logos, pathos, ethos, and Cheerios.

Drama Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeNImdJvW4I

Comedy Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W_oWwcGxhU

Contact: contactdanielfloren@gmail.com

Website: www.danielfloren.com

IMDB Page: imdb.me/danielfloren

Alicia Joy LaBlanc – Director Alicia Joy LeBlanc co-directed “Gun and a Hotel Bible” after directing the play version for the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival. She is a short, character actress, and writer in Los Angeles. After reading the script she jumped at the opportunity to direct it and to work with talented actors, Dan Floren and Bradley Gosnell. She was thrilled to work with director Raja Gosnell in transforming this story for the screen.

IMDB page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm4251331/

Raja Gosnell – Director When Raja saw the play Gun and A Motel Bible at the LA Fringe Festival he was beyond impressed with the intelligent writing and emotional acting. Hearing the reactions on the sidewalk after the show, and how the play served as an impetus for deep conversations, he was convinced that story should be brought to the screen.

This was an opportunity for Raja to walk along side the young imaginative minds who created the story and help them bring the project to life on film. After meetings with writers Bradley and Daniel to discuss their vision, it was clear that they would serve as producers as well as actors. Having had been trusted to bring the story to the stage, it was important that director Alicia LeBlanc be a part of the team. Her blocking, understanding of the characters and coaching of the actors were as valuable on set as in the theatre.

The cast and crew consisted of some established professionals together with many young artists at the beginning of their careers, giving freely of their time and talents. The energy, support and love on the set proved vital to this independent production with a small budget. The entire film was shot in under a week so it took unselfish teamwork to pull it off. Co-Director, Alicia LaBlanc also served as script supervisor. PAs were also stand-ins. Producers served meals and hauled props. The cast and crew were small in number but big in heart!

Raja Gosnell has been in the movie business for four decades. After editing blockbusters such as Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire, he transitioned into directing. Directing credits include the Smurfs films, Big Momma’s House, Never Been Kissed, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

Chelsea Gonnering – Producer Born and raised in Southern California, Chelsea grew up surrounded by art and music thanks to her parents and older sister. Chelsea spent the first two thirds of her life as a dancer, studying and performing ballet, jazz, and contemporary. It was in college that Chelsea’s interests turned to film and television production. Chelsea moved to Los Angeles 10 years ago and began navigating the world of freelance production. Since then, Chelsea has worked on a variety of projects spanning the entertainment spectrum. From docu-reality series and variety specials to feature films and new media.

Chelsea’s first few jobs were with the legendary live TV Producer and Director Don Mischer. Chelsea has worked on multiple Oscar telecasts as well as AFI Lifetime Achievement Awards, Comedy Central Roasts, and charity shows such as Red Nose Day, Muscular Dystrophy Association Telethon, and Seth Rogan’s Hilarity For Charity. Chelsea has worked on the independent films, Save the Date, Non-Stop to Comic-Con, In The Family, and Love Sonia.

Celeste Provart – Executive Producer Celeste maintains a passion for the arts as she has her entire life. She has dedicated time to a variety of performing arts as a performer, director, choreographer, and more. In her early career, she was a casting assistant for films and television. Years later she established the theater department at Oaks Christian Middle School. In those early years, she did everything from set building to wardrobe – and always “recruited” her kids to pitch in. After all, “Many hands make for light work!” Currently, she splits her time between learning (thank you Hidden Brain, TED talks & Audibles!) writing, and family. She is always eager to attend original and creative small theatre performances in whichever city she finds herself. In these humble venues, she finds the new, creative works which inspire and engage. Producing Gun and a Hotel Bible has been a privilege.

Robert Arnold – Director of Photography Director of photography Robert Arnold is an accomplished cinematographer who is equally at home working with high art, drama and VFX productions.

From studio to independent productions, Arnold is admired for his skill with lighting diverse skin tones and his warm, collaborative approach to filmmaking.

Most recently, Arnold has been shooting commercials, short films, documentaries and television series. In 2018-19 he operated B Cam/Steadicam on ABC’s Grown•ish, staring Yara Shahidi, for Mark Doering-Powell, ASC. Previously he operated B Cam/Steadicam for his long time friend and cinematographer Tommy Maddox on the Netflix Original Series titled “Huge in France” starring French comedian Gad Elmaleh.

In 2018, Arnold lensed a spec commercial for director Monty Marsh who is a part of the Commercial Directors Diversity Program (CDDP), a joint venture between the Association of Independent Commercial Producers (AICP) and the Directors Guild of America (DGA). A member of the International Cinematographers Guild I.A.T.S.E. Local 600, Arnold’s past credits include serving as a camera operator on The Walking Dead and Chicago P.D., working alongside his mentor cinematographer Rohn Schmidt, whom he met on The Chicago Code. Arnold also worked as on films and television series, such as: La La Land, Furious 7, Scandal, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Big Little Lies. On Big Little Lies, Arnold collaborated closely with director Jean-Marc Vallée, OC to compose the series’ beautiful frames, designing shots and occasionally lensing second unit.

Having been a professional filmmaker for more than 14 years, Arnold’s passion for cinematography began with his admiration for films photographed by Matthew Libatique, ASC; Ernest Dickerson, ASC; Wally Pfister, ASC; Darius Khondji, ASC, AFC, ACS.

This led him to cultivate his craft for cinematography at Columbia College Chicago where he received his Bachelors of Arts in Cinematography, as well as at the prestigious American Film Institute where he was awarded a Masters of Fine Arts degree in Cinematography. While balancing his undergraduate studies, Arnold’s ambition led to an electrician apprenticeship on Fox Searchlight’s Roll Bounce with James Muro as the cinematographer. Two years later, Arnold joined Chicago’s I.A.T.S.E. Studio Mechanics Local 476.

The young cinephile would further his occupation becoming a grip/electrician on features, television series and commercials between Chicago and New Mexico. Arnold cites world renowned cinematographers John Simmons, ASC; Geary McLeod, ASC; Rohn Schmidt; Amir Mokri; Dave Perkal, ASC; and Yves Bélanger, CSC as his mentors. Arnold is based in Los Angeles, with Chicago being his hometown.

Ed Smart – Composer Ed Smart is an award-winning composer for television and film, having composed themes and scores for series on Discovery, HBO, CBS, A&E, TLC, Velocity, Nickelodeon and OWN, among others. He composed the score to the Oscar-nominated documentary feature Hank Aaron: Chasing the Dream, executive produced by Denzel Washington and the HBO series Arli$$. Recent projects include the television series A Haunting (Discovery) and Fantomworks (Velocity). As a multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and orchestrator, Ed has worked with many award-winning artists, including Beyoncé, Jewel, Amy Grant, Jennifer Hudson, Michael W. Smith, and Kirk Franklin.

Website: https://www.edsmartmusic.com

Keseh Morgan – Production Designer Keseh Morgan’s love for creating spaces was cultivated through an admiration of architecture, landscape and storytelling. Production Design found her, lost in a writers room searching for a more immediate creative output. For the last 8 years, Keseh has cultivated a successful award-winning career that spans films, commercials and music videos. As a production designer, Keseh owns her creative space. Through collaboration with strong production crews her vision truly represents the character’s narrative journey. She lives and works in Pasadena, California. Her favorite dessert is butterscotch pudding and she believes that all art is created through some mischief and magic.

[bighousela]

🏆 Gun and a Hotel Bible 🏆⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ This is an amazing film, Character driven, Exciting, Provocative and well written, the actors portrayal of their characters is exemplary, Our reviewers are absolutely at odds with each other right now as a large group of us just watched it as a submission to Film Fest La, it provokes conversation unlike any other film submission we have seen in three years,  it has us arguing, debating, cringing, agreeing, disagreeing, and many other emotions flowing in the room, Edward was speechless for a few minutes too!!!,  A few of us hated it due to ideology, but loved it too due to the content creating conversations.... It's a must see and we are proud to say it is 99% a top choice from our festival staff. Our owner, Edward,  was speechless after watching it with us just now! he's never at a loss for words... lol,  I see this happening on our big screen at Regal L.A. LIVE: A Barco Innovation Center in theater number 8, our 300 seat theater, Saturday November 9th.. www.GunandaHotelBible.com Gun and a Hotel Bible NOTE: The original play was titled Gun a and Motel Bible.  Motel was changed to Hotel for the film. Gun And A Hotel Bible is a provocative dialogue between a man on the verge of a violent act, and a personified Hotel Bible. Spend one hour in a desperate man's life as Pete comes "face-to-face" with everything he once believed in. Gideon (being, ya know, a Bible) doesn’t get out much. Still, he has plenty to say... but Pete’s heard it all before and he's more than ready to spar with the “Word of God.” As ideas about morality, the Bible, and God fly, the clock ticks. Gideon and Pete battle and bond as they are forced to deal with their inadequacies. Can Gideon sway Pete before Pete pulls the trigger? Bradley and Daniel have been writing and performing together for the better part of a decade. They have always bonded over good stories and good story telling.  In the fall of 2017, Bradley (a big Beatles fan) pitched Daniel the idea of writing a play using a Gideon’s Bible as a character – an idea he got when listening to the Beatles’ song “Rocky Raccoon.”Eight months, several drafts, and dozens of philosophical discussions later, they brought on Alicia Joy LeBlanc to help bring the story to the stage. After an award-winning run at the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival, Embrace Entertainment greenlit the feature adaptation of the story: Gun and a Hotel Bible.Daniel and Bradley bring their differences, doubts, and deep friendship to the fore as they slug out the question: “Why do we believe what we believe?”Follow, Like and share social media sites: Instagram: instagram.com/gunandahotelbible/Twitter: twitter.com/GunHotelBible Words can’t describe how invested I was in Gun and a Motel Bible. As I was walking out of the theatre and to my car, a random stranger sparked a conversation with me asking me what show I had seen. I told him what I saw and his face lit up, indicating that he saw it to. We spent the rest of our walk analyzing the show. Major props to Bradley Gosnell for not only starring in it, but also being one of writers behind it. Fantastic job!! – Jake Mouchawar “An intriguing concept smartly delivered. Basically a fractured man’s debate with his forsaken faith, as the clock ticks down to a life changing act. The taut writing crackles with emotional intelligence and, given the concept, surprisingly organic comedy. Those with some scriptural familiarity will undoubtedly nod along with the inherent contradictions that are raised and debated, while those less scripturally inclined (like myself) need not worry. The play does all the work for you. It is not interested in delivering winners and losers, or even a faith-based message per se. It simply asks you to take the journey with these two characters who are impossible not to root for. Gosnell and Floren (who are also the playwrights) display razor sharp timing and, given how familiar they must be with the material, remarkably urgent, just-now deliveries. Floren’s cheerfully overeager, Mormon-on-the-doorstep enthusiasm brings levity at first, then a forceful flaws-and-all testament of faith as the ultimate healer, then finally pleaful desperation as the proverbial clock is about to run out. As the man with a dark plan, Gosnell does the emotional heavy lifting with nuance and humanity, wisely resisting the urge to play things too wrought or twitchy. It’s a performance that allows the audience to see the decent guy he must have been, punctuated by sudden outbursts of raw anger, betrayal, and self-reflective emotional reckoning. It all happens so seamlessly, it’s easy to lose sight of the high wire act these actor / playwrights have pulled off. LaBlanc makes the most of a spare, one room set. No movement wasted. Nothing false or forced. Never too little or too much. Tech work is solid. At a brisk 50 minutes, this one act journey is the best hour I can recall spending away from the smart phone in a long time.” -Baily Walker “I saw this play twice and I hope I get the chance to see it again! First thoughts…. what brilliant writing! The play has such a simple premise, but through that premise the characters take us on a complex journey of understanding what makes and justifies a moral code. At the beginning I was quick to choose my side between the characters, but just about halfway through… I couldn’t pick a side anymore as I found myself rooting for both of them. And what beautiful performances! The chemistry between actors Bradley Gosnell and Daniel Floren really brought the story to life. Their genuine/honest performances were a rollercoaster ride. One moment I was laughing out loud and just a minute later my heart was breaking. The direction was fantastic and the energy throughout the play took the suspense that was set up in the premise even further. Seeing it a second time gave me a chance to appreciate it even more, catching small details I missed the first time around. I hope to have the chance to see Gun and a Motel Bible again, share it with some friends, and I look forward to what the collaborators of this show come up with next.” – Ashton Avila “What a treat! Witty, intelligent, and refreshingly original, without isolating the audience (a tough feat when one of the characters is a BOOK!) I was laughing out loud while wrestling with my own moral dilemmas as the characters’ confronted theirs. These two talented actors bring you into some powerful and heavy debates that leave you teetering right on the edge of reason and insanity. Congrats to director, writers, and crew… it was my favorite fringe show this year!” -Ana Zimbart “This short but engrossing play was impressive on so many levels. The quality of the script: profound ideas and thoughts presented with such clear articulation and passion; you never feel as though you’re being preached to, or hit over the head with an opposing belief. The acting: these young men so embodied their characters, I really wanted them to continue their discussion; you could feel the energy and sincerity of their respective positions, as well as their disappointment, confusion and doubt. Don’t miss this one!” – Judy Burris https://www.hollywoodfringe.org/projects/5063 Bradley Gosnell – Writer, Actor Bradley Gosnell – Writer, Actor, ProducerBradley Gosnell is an actor based in Los Angeles. He continues to cut his teeth in the theatre world, rotating between producing, writing, directing, and performing (as you do in LA). He is an establishing member of Irreverent Shakespeare Project and the sketch team Safety Patrol (YouTube/ OOB). Bradley is currently working as a private acting coach and part time theatre teacher at Oaks Christian High School. Website: https://gosnellbradley.wixsite.com/actor IMDB Page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0331528/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm#overview Comedy Sketch Team page: safetypatrolcomedy.com Daniel Floren – Writer, Actor Daniel Floren – Writer, Actor, ProducerDaniel is an actor-writer with a taste for honesty, heart, hope, and humor. As he’s journeyed from Wisconsin to TCU to Los Angeles, he’s honed a keen sense for shaping heartfelt stories. He’s acted and written for multiple screen and stage productions from the likes of Trinity Shakespeare to Comedy Central; he’s happiest in rehearsals and pitch rooms. More than anything, he wants to encourage people through stories built with meaningful logos, pathos, ethos, and Cheerios. Drama Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeNImdJvW4I Comedy Reel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W_oWwcGxhU Contact: contactdanielfloren@gmail.com Website: www.danielfloren.com IMDB Page: imdb.me/danielfloren Alicia Joy LaBlanc – DirectorAlicia Joy LeBlanc co-directed “Gun and a Hotel Bible” after directing the play version for the 2018 Hollywood Fringe Festival. She is a short, character actress, and writer in Los Angeles. After reading the script she jumped at the opportunity to direct it and to work with talented actors, Dan Floren and Bradley Gosnell. She was thrilled to work with director Raja Gosnell in transforming this story for the screen. IMDB page: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm4251331/ Raja Gosnell – DirectorWhen Raja saw the play Gun and A Motel Bible at the LA Fringe Festival he was beyond impressed with the intelligent writing and emotional acting. Hearing the reactions on the sidewalk after the show, and how the play served as an impetus for deep conversations, he was convinced that story should be brought to the screen. This was an opportunity for Raja to walk along side the young imaginative minds who created the story and help them bring the project to life on film. After meetings with writers Bradley and Daniel to discuss their vision, it was clear that they would serve as producers as well as actors. Having had been trusted to bring the story to the stage, it was important that director Alicia LeBlanc be a part of the team. Her blocking, understanding of the characters and coaching of the actors were as valuable on set as in the theatre. The cast and crew consisted of some established professionals together with many young artists at the beginning of their careers, giving freely of their time and talents. The energy, support and love on the set proved vital to this independent production with a small budget. The entire film was shot in under a week so it took unselfish teamwork to pull it off. Co-Director, Alicia LaBlanc also served as script supervisor. PAs were also stand-ins. Producers served meals and hauled props. The cast and crew were small in number but big in heart! Raja Gosnell has been in the movie business for four decades. After editing blockbusters such as Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire, he transitioned into directing. Directing credits include the Smurfs films, Big Momma’s House, Never Been Kissed, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Chelsea Gonnering – ProducerBorn and raised in Southern California, Chelsea grew up surrounded by art and music thanks to her parents and older sister. Chelsea spent the first two thirds of her life as a dancer, studying and performing ballet, jazz, and contemporary.  It was in college that Chelsea’s interests turned to film and television production. Chelsea moved to Los Angeles 10 years ago and began navigating the world of freelance production. Since then, Chelsea has worked on a variety of projects spanning the entertainment spectrum. From docu-reality series and variety specials to feature films and new media. Chelsea’s first few jobs were with the legendary live TV Producer and Director Don Mischer. Chelsea has worked on multiple Oscar telecasts as well as AFI Lifetime Achievement Awards, Comedy Central Roasts, and charity shows such as Red Nose Day, Muscular Dystrophy Association Telethon, and Seth Rogan’s Hilarity For Charity.  Chelsea has worked on the independent films, Save the Date, Non-Stop to Comic-Con, In The Family, and Love Sonia. Celeste Provart – Executive ProducerCeleste maintains a passion for the arts as she has her entire life. She has dedicated time to a variety of performing arts as a performer, director, choreographer, and more. In her early career, she was a casting assistant for films and television. Years later she established the theater department at Oaks Christian Middle School. In those early years, she did everything from set building to wardrobe – and always “recruited” her kids to pitch in. After all, “Many hands make for light work!” Currently, she splits her time between learning (thank you Hidden Brain, TED talks & Audibles!) writing, and family. She is always eager to attend original and creative small theatre performances in whichever city she finds herself. In these humble venues, she finds the new, creative works which inspire and engage. Producing Gun and a Hotel Bible has been a privilege. Robert Arnold – Director of PhotographyDirector of photography Robert Arnold is an accomplished cinematographer who is equally at home working with high art, drama and VFX productions. From studio to independent productions, Arnold is admired for his skill with lighting diverse skin tones and his warm, collaborative approach to filmmaking. Most recently, Arnold has been shooting commercials, short films, documentaries and television series. In 2018-19 he operated B Cam/Steadicam on ABC’s Grown•ish, staring Yara Shahidi, for Mark Doering-Powell, ASC. Previously he operated B Cam/Steadicam for his long time friend and cinematographer Tommy Maddox on the Netflix Original Series titled “Huge in France” starring French comedian Gad Elmaleh. In 2018, Arnold lensed a spec commercial for director Monty Marsh who is a part of the Commercial Directors Diversity Program (CDDP), a joint venture between the Association of Independent Commercial Producers (AICP) and the Directors Guild of America (DGA). A member of the International Cinematographers Guild I.A.T.S.E. Local 600, Arnold’s past credits include serving as a camera operator on The Walking Dead and Chicago P.D., working alongside his mentor cinematographer Rohn Schmidt, whom he met on The Chicago Code. Arnold also worked as on films and television series, such as: La La Land, Furious 7, Scandal, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Big Little Lies. On Big Little Lies, Arnold collaborated closely with director Jean-Marc Vallée, OC to compose the series’ beautiful frames, designing shots and occasionally lensing second unit. Having been a professional filmmaker for more than 14 years, Arnold’s passion for cinematography began with his admiration for films photographed by Matthew Libatique, ASC; Ernest Dickerson, ASC; Wally Pfister, ASC; Darius Khondji, ASC, AFC, ACS. This led him to cultivate his craft for cinematography at Columbia College Chicago where he received his Bachelors of Arts in Cinematography, as well as at the prestigious American Film Institute where he was awarded a Masters of Fine Arts degree in Cinematography. While balancing his undergraduate studies, Arnold’s ambition led to an electrician apprenticeship on Fox Searchlight’s Roll Bounce with James Muro as the cinematographer. Two years later, Arnold joined Chicago’s I.A.T.S.E. Studio Mechanics Local 476. The young cinephile would further his occupation becoming a grip/electrician on features, television series and commercials between Chicago and New Mexico. Arnold cites world renowned cinematographers John Simmons, ASC; Geary McLeod, ASC; Rohn Schmidt; Amir Mokri; Dave Perkal, ASC; and Yves Bélanger, CSC as his mentors.Arnold is based in Los Angeles, with Chicago being his hometown. Ed Smart – ComposerEd Smart is an award-winning composer for television and film, having composedthemes and scores for series on Discovery, HBO, CBS, A&E, TLC, Velocity, Nickelodeonand OWN, among others. He composed the score to the Oscar-nominateddocumentary feature Hank Aaron: Chasing the Dream, executive produced by DenzelWashington and the HBO series Arli$$. Recent projects include the television series AHaunting (Discovery) and Fantomworks (Velocity). As a multi-instrumentalist, vocalistand orchestrator, Ed has worked with many award-winning artists, including Beyoncé,Jewel, Amy Grant, Jennifer Hudson, Michael W. Smith, and Kirk Franklin. Website: https://www.edsmartmusic.com Keseh Morgan – Production DesignerKeseh Morgan’s love for creating spaces was cultivated through an admiration of architecture, landscape and storytelling. Production Design found her, lost in a writers room searching for a more immediate creative output. For the last 8 years, Keseh has cultivated a successful award-winning career that spans films, commercials and music videos.  As a production designer, Keseh owns her creative space. Through collaboration with strong production crews her vision truly represents the character’s narrative journey. She lives and works in Pasadena, California. Her favorite dessert is butterscotch pudding and she believes that all art is created through some mischief and magic.