#rainer binder

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Natasha Kinski by Rainer Binder, 1977

[letzternachtzug]

NASTASSJA KINSKI ph. by Rainer Binder Berlin. Germany. 1978

[dozydawn]

Dunja Rajter, 1971. Photographed by Rainer Binder.

[longlistshort]

It was Andy Warhol’s birthday this past Tuesday, August 6th, so today seemed like a good time to post some images taken at The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh. Warhol was a prolific artist and the museum does an excellent job at presenting both his body of work, and the essence of what made him such a unique presence in the world.

Below are a few selections from what was on view in February of 2024.

Warhol made several film works including Screen Tests, his series of portraits in which the subjects attempted to remain still for around three minutes. The results were then played back in slow motion. Many well known names participated.

The museum has a room dedicated to their recreation of his delightful installation Silver Clouds.

From the museum about this work-

“I don’t paint anymore, I gave it up about a year ago and just do movies now. I could do two things at the same time but movies are more exciting. Painting was just a phase I went through. But I’m doing some floating sculpture now: silver rectangles that I blow up and that float.” —Andy Warhol, 1966

In April 1966 Warhol opened his light and music extravaganza the Exploding Plastic Inevitable (EPI), a complete sensorial experience of light, music, and film at the Dom, a large dance hall in the East Village in New York City. Running concurrently with the EPI was Warhol’s bold and unconventional exhibition at the prestigious Leo Castelli Gallery that comprised two artworks: the Silver Clouds and Cow Wallpaper.

Constructed from metalized plastic film and filled with helium, the floating clouds were produced in collaboration with Billy Klüver, an engineer known for his work with artists such as Robert Rauschenberg, Yvonne Rainer, and John Cage. Warhol originally asked Klüver to create floating light bulbs; an unusual shape that proved infeasible.

Klüver showed Warhol a sample of the silver material and his reaction to the plastic sparked a new direction, “Let’s make clouds.” They experimented with cumulus shapes, but the puffed rectangle was the most successful and most buoyant. The end result was w hat Warhol was looking for from the beginning— “paintings that could float.” Silver Clouds, like the EPI with its flashing lights and overlapping films, was an explosion of objects in space and presented an immersive, bodily experience for the viewer.

Warhol was always experimenting with new ideas and processes. Pictured above is Oxidation, 1978, and a closer look at the canvas. It is part of Altered States, an exhibition of this body of work and its creation.

Below the museum explains Warhol’s process, and how the paintings were altered both during past exhibitions, and again when the museum lost power and climate control.

Andy Warhol’s Oxidation paintings represent the artist’s radical approach to Abstract Expressionism, a movement popularized by painters like Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko after World War II, and a style Warhol didn’t experiment with until late in his career. Between 1977 and 1978, however, when Warhol began testing the corrosive effects of oxidation by mixing copper paint and urine, the beautifully iridescent canvases were a critical breakthrough at a time when his standing in the art world had taken a hit. The Oxidation series, along with abstract works like the Rorschachs and Shadows, allowed Warhol to reinvent himself yet again.

To create the Oxidation works, Warhol and his assistants mixed dry metallic powder in water before adding acrylic medium as the binder.

Canvases were spread out on the studio floor and coated in copper paint. Warhol’s assistants or Factory visitors were then invited to urinate on the canvases while the paint was still wet. As the urine acid oxidized the metal in the copper paint, a range of unpredictable patterns emerged.

Before Warhol’s death in 1987, the Oxidation paintings were exhibited only three times, including the Paris Art Fair FIAC at the Grand Palais, where the artist first noticed the volatility of the works. “When I showed them in Paris, the hot lights made them melt again,” he said.

“It’s very weird.. they never stopped dripping.” More than 45 years later, unpredictability remains a hallmark of the series. In June of 2020, after a power outage disabled the museum’s climate control for several days, staff conservators noticed changes similar to what Warhol observed in Paris. New drips appeared on the surface of Oxidation (1978), shown here, and the areas of corrosion changed color.

This presentation seeks to answer a deceptively simple question:

What happened? Museum conservators, with help from colleagues in the field and scientists, have been hard at work finding answers. The examination and analysis of the Oxidation paintings in the museum’s collection will contribute to proper stewardship, preservation, and treatment of the nearly 100 other works worldwide.

Several of the paintings on view are in his signature style, including portraits of famous (and less famous) people, and in one room, different skulls in various colors.

From the museum-

Warhol’s Skull paintings have often been considered memento mori, recalling the centuries-long tradition of art that reminds us of our mortality. Memento mori, from Latin, translates roughly to “remember that you are mortal” or “remember you will die.” Warhol’s own near-death experience happened in 1968, when troubled writer Valerie Solanas shot Warhol in the abdomen after claiming the artist had lost a script she had written. After reportedly being declared dead upon arrival at the hospital, Warhol’s life was saved during five hours of surgery. After nearly two months, he was released from the hospital but required further surgeries over the following years.

On one of the floors is The Archives Study Center. There, behind glass, are some of Warhol’s Time Capsules- boxes he filled with a wide variety of items, sealed and put into storage.

On the same floor is the Great Dane pictured above, Champion Ador Tipp  Topp (“Cecil”), who Warhol bought at an antique store after being told the dog had belonged to Cecil B. De Mille. The dog remained in Warhol’s office until his death.

A little more detail from the museum-

This mounted Great Dane, called Cecil by Warhol and his associates, was once a champion show dog. Born in Germany in 1921, original name was Ador Tipp Topp. Owned by Charles Ludwig, a top breeder, Cecil was sold to Gerdus H. Wynkoop of Long Island who entered the dog in several shows earning him the title of Champion by 1924, and Best of Breed at the Westminster Kennel Club.

After his death in 1930, Cecil’s remains were sent to Yale University in Connecticut, where they were mounted and displayed with 11 other breeds in what was known colloquially as “the dog hall of fame” at the Peabody Museum. However, by 1945, the canine display was removed to storage and forgotten.

In 1964 Scott Elliot, a Yale drama student, went to the Museum to find birds for a new play. He found the birds and also bought all 12 dog mounts for $10 each. When Elliot had to move a few months later, many of the mounts were left with a friend who put them in rented storage, which went unpaid and the contents were dispersed.

Warhol came across the display in an antique shop on 3rd Avenue several years later. He was told that the dog had belonged to film director Cecil B. DeMille. Warhol bought the story and the Great Dane for $300. Cecil found his final home at Andy’s office, where he was kept until Andy’s death in 1986.

Cecil’s current appearance differs from his championship form. His coat was originally black and white but exposure to sunlight has faded it to brown. Over the years, it sustained damage to the ears; they were repaired in April 1994 in anticipation of the opening of the Warhol Museum, to reflect the style of current breeds.

This is just a brief selection of what was on view. The museum collection also includes his early commercial paintings, some of his collaborations, television work, and more.

One of the great things about Andy Warhol is that no matter how much you know, there are always new things to learn. Even more than thirty years after his death, he remains as relevant as ever.

[merlesrandomstuff]

𝕄𝔼ℝ𝕃𝔼'𝕊 𝕌𝕃𝕋𝕀𝕄𝔸𝕋𝔼 𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕆𝔽 𝔽𝔸𝕍𝕊

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

(everything in no particular order and I'll add/update whenever I need to) - Bands - Motorsports - Wintersports

Bands:

TYNA

Jack Pott

FRAUPAUL

Donots

Fewjar

Raum27

Radio Havanna

NIKRA

AWS

Treptow

The Rasmus

Silbermond

Motorsports:

Formula 1:

Yuki Tsunoda

Kevin Magnussen

Alex Albon

Valtteri Bottas

Oscar Piastri

Nico Hulkenberg

Formula 2:

Dennis Hauger

Victor Martins

Franco Colapinto

IndyCar:

Marcus Ericsson

Marcus Armstrong

Pato O'Ward

Felix Rosenqvist

Pietro Fittipaldi

Alexander Rossi

David Malukas

Callum Ilott

MotoGP:

Brad Binder

Jorge Martin

Marc Marquez

Alex Marquez

Aleix Espargaro

Pedro Acosta

Moto2:

Fermin Aldeguer

Alonso Lopez

Tony Arbolino

Aron Canet

Celestino Vietti

Filip Salac

Darryn Binder

Deniz Öncü

Moto3:

David Alonso

Collin Veijer

Others:

Antonio Giovinazzi

Fred Vesti

Olli Caldwell

Clement Novalak

Wintersports:

Skijumping Teams:

Finland

Austria

Switzerland

Norway

Canada

Skijumpers (Male):

Czechia

USA

Estonia

France

Eetu Nousiainen

Stefan Rainer

Remo Imhof

Stephan Leyhe

Bendik Heggli

Valentin Foubert

(and more)

Skijumpers (female):

Alex Loutitt

Eva Pinkelnig

Abi Strate

Natalie Eilers

Frida Westman

Silje Opseth

Anna Rupprecht

Jenny Rautionaho

Josephine Pagnier

Annika Sieff

Nordic Combined Teams:

Czechia

Finland

Austria

France

Nordic combiners (female):

Nathalie Armbruster

Lisa Hirner

Annika Malacinski

Anju Nakamura

Minja Korhonen

Nordic combiners (male):

Jiri Konvalinka

Johannes Lamparter

Kristjan Ilves

Ilkka Herola

Ryota Yamamoto

Eero Hirvonen

Einar Lurås Oftebro

Jens Lurås Oftebro

[robertocustodioart]

Nastassja Kinski by Rainer Binder 1976

[nastassja]

Nastassja Kinski by Rainer Binder — 1977.

[manufactoriel]

Ousmane Sembène, by  Rainer Binder

[gatabella]

Greta Garbo by Alexander Binder, 1925

“There are few very beautiful people. Garbo was one.” 

— Luise Rainer

[wheeler-beretta-harwood]

Weird writing questions for the weirdest coolest girl I know.

9, 15, 22, 40

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn't about writing I just wanna know

Now, I don't believe in ghosts in the common sense I guess. But I know that some people can haunt you like a ghost, there's always an invisible version of them with you, in your head.

And I believe that some places are haunted. You can feel all the terrible things that have happened there. I have felt that on two occasions. Both of them were when I visited former concentration camps here in Germany. As soon as I entered, I couldn't take a single step without thinking some innocent human being died right in this spot where my foot is now. It's terrible to think what some disgusting humans did to others.

(I made this more depressed than it should have been, but I needed to get it out.)

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

Write in the margins of my books? I used to do that back in school and at university. Taking notes for interpretation. It is cool to look at it now.

Dog-ear your pages? Hell no. Never. Books are like little treasures to me, they need to be protected

I don't judge people who do these things. Do with your stuff whatever we want, just don't dog-ear my pages.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

The notes app I use is actually very organized, unfinished stories have no background color, everything else is color coded: Meant To Be chapters are yellow, one shots based on my ideas green, requests are blue and so on.

I recently started a notebook for outlining, We’ll see how that goes. As soon as I decide to use something, I am very organized, otherwise my OCD kicks in...

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it

So, I found an English translation of one of my favorite poems. It is WAY BETTER in German (adding that too, although noone will be able to understand)

The Panther (Rainer Maria Rilke)

His gaze against the sweeping of the bars

has grown so weary, it can hold no more.

To him, there seem to be a thousand bars

and back behind those thousand bars no world.

The soft the supple step and sturdy pace,

that in the smallest of all circles turns,

moves like a dance of strength around a core

in which a mighty will is standing stunned.

Only at times the pupil’s curtain slides

up soundlessly — . An image enters then,

goes through the tensioned stillness of the limbs —

and in the heart ceases to be.

GERMAN: Der Panther

Sein Blick ist vom Vorübergehn der Stäbe

so müd geworden, daß er nichts mehr hält.

Ihm ist, als ob es tausend Stäbe gäbe

und hinter tausend Stäben keine Welt.

Der weiche Gang geschmeidig starker Schritte,

der sich im allerkleinsten Kreise dreht,

ist wie ein Tanz von Kraft um eine Mitte,

in der betäubt ein großer Wille steht.

Nur manchmal schiebt der Vorhang der Pupille

sich lautlos auf –. Dann geht ein Bild hinein,

geht durch der Glieder angespannte Stille –

und hört im Herzen auf zu sein.

[adreciclarte4]

Nastassja Kinski by Rainer Binder, 1976

[aroambergris]

[ID: A digital halfbody sketch of Fitzroy and Rainer. Fitzroy is a fat half elf with curly hair and glasses. He is wearing a tank top with a black binder underneath. Rainer is a black human with braids in two buns and the other half of her braids out of her bun. She is sitting in a wheelchair and has a black shirt on. Both of their expressions are excited, and they are gesturing to a sign that says, “F + R’s small animal capes”. end ID] 

I know I’m running this topic thin but listen. listen

[universallycrownpirate]

Die Ehe der Maria Braun ist ein Spiel­film von Rainer Werner Fass­binder aus dem Jahr 1979. Wohl­stand nur um den Preis des Ver­drängens   Rainer W. Fassbinder und Hanna Schygulla bei den Filmfestspielen von Venedig 1980

[nokzeit]

FFW Binau gewinnt Dreikönigspokal

(Foto: rt)

Gute Akzeptanz der Binauer Vereine beim 49. Dreikönigsschießen

Binau.   (rt)   Auch die 49. Auflage des Dreikönigsschießen um den Wanderpokal des Schützenvereins Binau stieß bei den örtlichen Vereinen wieder auf hohe Akzeptanz. Mit gleich mehreren Teams des FC Binau, der Freiwilligen Feuerwehr, des Heimatverein, der SPD Binau, der Arbeiterwohlfahrt, der Reservistenkameradschaft, des Posaunenchors, des Fördervereins der Feuerwehr und der Binemer Weffzen war der Wettstreit um den Vereinswanderpokal bis zuletzt hart umkämpft. Auch zur Siegerehrung waren die Vereine wieder durch Vorstände und Wettbewerbsteilnehmer gut vertreten. Oberschützenmeister (OSM) Karl Eiermann, Schützenmeister Wolfgang Stock und Schriftführerin Elke Müller hatten als Organisatoren und Turnierleitung bis kurz vor Veranstaltungsende alle Hände voll zu tun, um die Auswertung der Mannschafts-, Ehrenscheiben- und Einzelwettbewerbe zügig und zeitnah auszuwerten. OSM Karl Eiermann begrüßte die zahlreichen Gäste, darunter namentlich Bürgermeister René Friedrich, MdL a.D. Gerd Teßmer sowie die Gemeinderäte Elke Blesch und Rainer Ludwig. Sein besonderer Dank ging anschließend an die Helferinnen und Helfer Helmut Hartmann, Jürgen Backfisch, Mirko und Melanie Neureuther, Markus Weichand und Wolfgang Ziegler. Begonnen wurde die Siegerehrung mit der Bekanntgabe der Einzelergebnisse der Damenwettbewerbe. Hier holte sich Christina Bussmann den Ehrenpokal vor Elke Müller, Peggy Kisela und Tamara Hartmann. Den Mannschaftspokal gewannen die Feuerwehr-Damen vor den Teams der Weffzen und der Familie Ludwig. Bei der zugunsten der Jugend ausgeschossenen Ehrenscheibe waren Christoph Keller, Norbert Keppler und Svenja Seeberger am besten. Die Ehrenscheibe bei den Damen sah Tamara Hartmann, Christina Kern und Svenja Seeberger als Sieger. Die Ehrenscheibe der Herren ging dieses Jahr an Achim Gärtner vor Andreas Konrad und Sven-Uwe Hipke. Recht knapp lagen die Ergebnisse im Einzelwettbewerb der Herren beieinander. Den ausgeschriebenen Wanderpokal konnte in diesem Jahr der Vorsitzende des FC Binau, Wolfram Hipke, gewinnen. Ihm folgten Tom Herrmann, Thorsten Kisela, Achim Gärtner, Dieter Grimm und Michael Landgraf. Den Wanderpokal für Vereinsmannschaften sicherten sich in diesem Jahr die Männer von der Freiwilligen Feuerwehr Binau mit Jörg Großkopf, Denis Binder und Feuerwehrkommandant Thorsten Kisela. Die „Schwogers“ und Familie Hipke folgten auf den Plätzen. OSM Karl Eiermann dankte allen teilnehmenden Vereinen und Gruppierungen, Bürgermeister René Friedrich für die aktive Teilnahme und Unterstützung und den im Hintergrund erfolgreich wirkenden Vereinsmitgliedern. Er brachte seine Zufriedenheit zum Ausdruck, dass auch beim 49. Dreikönigsschießen des Schützenvereins Binau eine so breite Unterstützung der Binauer Vereine und Gruppen zu verzeichnen war; das mache Mut, diesen Wettbewerb auch weiterhin innerhalb der Dorfgemeinschaft anzubieten. Read the full article

[verschwoerer]

Thomas Binder

·

Wie alle und alles andere auch, wird die Schweiz zerstört durch den Raubtierkapitalismus aka Neoliberalismus aka Globalisierung, der weder neu ist noch liberal sondern das uralte Umverteilungsprojekt darstellt von unten nach oben, vom Staat zu Privaten und von Süden nach Norden. Die SVP betreibt neoliberale (Schulterschluss)politik seit deren (Ver)führung durch einen Oligarchen, SP und Grüne seitdem der Neoliberalismus im grünen Schafspelz daherkommt mit der pseudowissenschaftlich verbrämten Verschwörungstheorie "Sonne, kosmische Strahlung und Wolken gibt es nicht: Anthropogenes CO2 ist der Regelknopf des Klimas”. Sie fordern nun am lautesten asoziale CO2-Abgaben obwohl CO2 bisher erwiesenermassen bloss etwas macht, unseren Planeten grüner - unglaublich!

Auch dieses Plakat soll dem Wähler vorgaukeln, eine Wahl zu haben. In regionalen Dingen haben wir sie (noch), in nationalen teilweise, in globalpoltischen Belangen ist die Schweiz während der letzten 40 Jahre aber genauso in eine Wahloligarchie degeneriert wie alle anderen westlichen Staaten.

Wir können dem Demokratiespiel mit den ewig gleichen Scheingefechten zwischen den neoliberalen Schein-Liberalen, inklusive "Operation Neolibero", den neoliberalen Schein-Linken und den neoliberalen Schein-Rechtsnationalen bestenfalls immer und immer wieder auf den Leim gehen, schlimmstenfalls diese selbst befeuern. Oder wir können uns aufklären lassen durch deren offensichtlich gemeinsam betriebene real existierende asoziale neoliberale (Schulterschluss)politik oder beispielsweise durch den Wahrnehmungs- und Kognitionspsychologen Prof. Rainer Mausfeld (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1x8x9NokCZ0&t=1134s) und endlich gemeinsam Demokratie realisieren indem wir die derzeit meines Erachtens einzige vernünftige sozialverträgliche Alternative zu asozialem Neoliberalismus und asozialem neoliberalem Schein-Rechtsnationalismus wählen, den sozialen Liberalismus aka Sozialliberalismus, in etwa entsprechend dem "new deal" aka soziale Marktwirtschaft der 1950er- bis 1970er-Jahre, in Deutschland unter Kanzler Erhard (CDU!), selbstverständlich angepasst an das 21. Jahrhundert.

Ich bin der und bleibe bei meiner Meinung, wir, die Zivilgesellschaft, müssen dieses ganze immer noch peinlicher werdende infantile Demokratiespiel unserer "Elitedemokratie" - dieses mag ja einmal sinnvoll gewesen sein, aber mittlerweile haben wir die Sklaverei abgeschafft, die Menschenrechte eingeführt, ist das "dumme triebgesteuerte Volk" mehrheitlich ein zivilisiertes Bildungsbürgertum und besteht die "Machtelite" fast nur noch aus rein eigeninteressierten skrupellosen schweren Narzissten - mit ihrer Menschenrechts- und Demokratierhetorik endlich hinter uns lassen und als verantwortungsbewusste am Gemeinwohl interessierte vernünftige empathische Erwachsene mutig eine Demokratie realisieren mit (Menschen)gerechtigkeit für alle.

https://www.bzbasel.ch/schweiz/fuehle-mich-an-kampagnen-der-ns-zeit-erinnert-svp-provoziert-mit-neuem-wahlplakat-135426886

[jugheadeaton-blog]

Love Is Such A Strong Word...

Summary: Outcast. Different. Weird. Bullied. That's what Alex Rider and Ashlynn Rainer are. But why? Maybe it's the fact that Alex has been training to become the "king" of the most deadly gang in Alper Town? It can’t be. Nobody knows that Or perhaps the real reason is Ashlynn's secret job as sex slave. That can't be it either. Only Ashlynn and her father know that. So what is it? Find out what the real reason for Alex and Ashlynn's banishment is as the pair experience the ups and downs of being in love in high school.

A/N: This is my first story so bear with me xD This story is also posted on my Wattpad account, AlexTheTrashyWriter. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Outcasts   

"Dad, we have to get him back!" I screamed as my twin brother sprinted away and into the forest. My dad gave me a disappointed shake of his head.

"No, Alex. He chose what he wanted to do," My dad spat through gritted teeth. "First your mom is taken from us and now your brother decides to leave us."

I stay on my knees, shaking. The tears roll down my face the second my dad utters those words. "But we..."

"No Alex! Not we! Only you! You're the one that wants that bastard of a kid back. But I won't let you go after that piece of shit!" My dad yelled and yanked the collar of my shirt.

"But why?!" I screamed, the tears rolling faster.

My dad gave me a look I've never seen before. His eyes were full of a deep, deep anger. "Because now that your brother is out of the picture, I don't have to choose. I'm training you to become the next Viper leader," he hissed.

I gave him such a horrified look it kind of  scared my dad to a point where he might've pitied me. Might've. But he just shook his head and gripped my shirt collar tighter. Then he dragged me away, half choking me. And during this who fiasco, I held the grey ash covered beanie my brother had given me before he set off. And that was that. My whole life was set up for me in minutes. And it was beyond my control. But I had to change it. Somehow. Sigh. What was a five year old to do?

I snapped awake as I tumbled onto the rough, blackened wood of my room. I winced and groaned as I propped myself up with my bandaged elbow. I hoped he wouldn't enter the scene but of course, he did.

"Rise and shine, Alex!" My father, Will Rider, hollered into a dented megaphone. "It's 4:01 AM! Get the hell up and take your lap!"

"Yes Dad," I murmured as I pushed myself off the slight dent I recently made with my body.

"Did you call me Dad?" My father yelled into the megaphone once more.

I clapped my hand over my reddened ear, which was now ringing. "No sir."

My father scowled and marched out the chipped door. I slowly got up and fixed my mess of a bed, which was soaked with the blood from last night's injuries. I then changed into the clothes my father gave me months ago and hurried out the door, into the early morning. To my dismay, he was already in his beat up navy blue pickup and started driving next to me, all the while screaming "Faster, faster!" into that damn megaphone. I wanted to cuss him out and tell him I started my last year of high school (aka hell) in about an hour but I knew to hold my tongue. My father was not a man to talk back to. I learned that the hard way. I coughed my thoughts away and silently ran my regular ten miles while my father continued scolding my ass off. But he must've been in a good mood since he only made me run ten miles in all. Weird.

An hour later, I was ready. I wore a blood red t-shirt, black jeans, simple black and white converse, the bandage-like eye patch I've been wearing for the past few years and the ash covered dark grey beanie I always wore, no matter how hot it was outside. With one glance at the shattered mirror on my floor, I examined the cuts and crap that were visible and raked some fingers through my messy oak colored hair. I sighed then slipped on my dirty denim jacket hanging by a loose piece of wood from my wall, slung my bag over my sort of broken shoulder and trudged out of the room, my stomach growling uncomfortably. My father had not said I could eat, so I guess breakfast wasn't an option. Oh well, I'll just eat the crappy school lunches. Again. I muttered a goodbye to my father and swiftly stepped out the door and towards Archer High. To my delight, a girl with dirty blonde hair stepped out of a house a block away. I smiled.

"Ashlynn," I called and waved at her.

Ashlynn looked up from her phone, making eye contact with me. She excitedly shoved her phone in her pocket and sprinted towards me, engulfing me in one of her classic bear hugs. "Hi Al!" she peeped. Her classic bear hug always hurt at first but since I've gotten used to the pain over the years, it didn't feel as bad as compared to the past. Ashlynn planted a kiss on my surprisingly-not-bruised cheek then (attempted to) ruffle my milk chocolate hair.

I hugged her back and pecked her on the lips. "Nice to see you again. Where the hell were you for summer?"

Ashlynn let go of me then gave me an annoyed look. "You dumbo. I told you I was at my aunt's place in Florida." She started walking.

I followed right after her. "You did? Oh. I'm sorry I guess I forgot."

"You always do, dumbo."

I probably forgot because of my multiple head injuries during summer training. But Ashlynn didn't need to know that. And neither did anyone else. "Yup," I agreed.

Ashlynn looked up at me, a glimmer of worry in her jade eyes. "Al. Why are you wearing pants and a jacket? It's 99 fucking degrees." She's always so protective.

But I won't lie, I was sweating like a pig. Then again, I had so many cuts, bruises and bandages scattered on my tall legs, it was kind of scary. "Well I get cold easily."

Ashlynn narrowed her eyes at me then began to nod slowly. "Okay."

I sighed of relief when she wasn't looking. Dodged another bullet. Thank God. She still can't ever tell when I'm making something up.

We became friends in second grade. She said hi, I said hi, you know that's pretty casual. Then she blurted out "Your hat's dirty. Are you poor?" It took her a second to realize what she said then she slapped her hand over her mouth and apologized a billion times. I stared at her for a couple of seconds then laughed. I liked her. I told her it was okay and from then on, we became inseparable.

As I got swallowed by my buzzing thoughts, Ashlynn tugged on my arm, which snapped me out of my daze.

"We're...here," She squeaked uneasily.

I took her hand in mine then squeezed. "We'll be fine, Ash." But I knew we weren't going to be, even if we were seniors. At the last second, I bent down and whispered, "Just stick with me, alright?"

Ashlynn looked up at me, her jade eyes staring into my dark browns. "I wasn't planning on it."

And with that, we plodded into the madness. Let's just say Archer High School wasn't exactly the safest place to be taught a bunch of useless crap. Jocks were sitting on the banged up, rusty lockers and smoking. Queen bees were glued to their phones and standing near their smoldering jock boyfriends. Nerds gripped calculators and held binders like babies. Rebels stormed the halls, drinks in one hand, cigarettes in the other. The "emo" kids hid in corners with their ear buds shoved in their ears. I know, I know. This all sounds so cliché but it was all true. Thankfully, not many people noticed Ash and I trudging through the halls. Although, the ones that did notice only just realized that I got held back. And those people included Martha Summers and Johnny Dixon. Great. They're what I like to call "Dick and a Bitch" since Johnny is a dick and Martha is a bitch. I squeezed Ash's hand and picked up my pace, dragging her with me.

"Hey where ya going Writer McGee?" Johnny called out.

I just bit the inside of my cheek and kept walking away. But of course, that wouldn't save me or Ashlynn. As Johnny trotted towards me, Martha held his beefed up arm and followed him. Perfect.

"Leaving so soon, Queen Slut?" Martha hissed in her annoying little voice.

I'm known to have a temper, but when it comes to school I'm fairly good at hiding my anger. But sometimes I just want to punch the blush off that girl's make up infested face. I continued to walk off but to my surprise, Ashlynn tugged on my arm and stopped. Just dead on stopped. In the middle of the hallway. Uh oh.

Ashlynn turned around ever so slowly on her heel and faced the queen of bitches herself. "Listen you Barbie look alike. I'm not in the fucking mood to deal with your crap. Especially not on the first day of school."

Everyone in the hallway oohed and ahhed as Ashlynn turned back to me. She giggled when she saw the shocked look on my face. She barely talked back to Queen Bitch. Like seriously. But since she talked back, I'm bound to get into some trouble with Queen Bitch's boyfriend.

"Ooh Queen Slut's scared," Johnny taunted. Some people in the hallway agreed and soon started chanting "Queen Slut's scared."

A bewildered look spread across Ashlynn's face as her cheeks became bright red with embarrassment. Oh boy, was I mad. No wait I wasn't just mad. I was way beyond mad. And I let my anger get the best of me.