#today Jefferson airplane

[patrickelvinart]

I once knew a girl named Bambi

Pencil drawing on watercolor paper

Calbayog City 2024

Lather - The Jefferson Airplane

[bea-lele-carmen]

Today, I feel like pleasing you

More than before

Today, I know what I wanna do

But I don't know what for

To be living for you

Is all I want to do

To be loving you

It'll all be there

When my dreams come true

Today, you'll make me say

That I somehow have changed

Today, you look into my eyes

I'm just not the same

To be any more than all I am

Would be a lie

I'm so full of love

I could burst apart

And start to cry

Today, everything you want

I swear it all will come true

Today, I realize how much

I'm in love with you

With you standing here

I could tell the world

What it means to love

To go on from here

I can't use words

That don't say enough

Please, please, listen to me

It's taken so long to come true

And it's all for you, all for you

[getoheaven]

reposting my vaguely narrative Ed/Stede playlist from instagram because i started thinking about it again earlier

[boricuacherry-blog]

[posttexasstressdisorder]

They killed our Jesus: A Lament for Generation Jones

Two things happened in 1980 that would ensure the iron grip of the fascist state would (first slowly, then quickly), tighten on the entirety of the nation's populace from that moment forward: Ronald fucking Reagan was installed as president, and a CIA-psyop'd Christian Nationalist shot and killed John Lennon.

Those two things are connected.

First let's look at exactly who "Generation Jones" encompasses, and specific moments in the generational timeline that defined our future. The wiki page is actually quite good. Here's an excerpt that really hits it on the head:

"The name "Generation Jones" has several connotations, including a large anonymous generation, a "keeping up with the Joneses" competitiveness and the slang word "jones" or "jonesing", meaning a yearning or craving.[17][18][19] Pontell suggests that Jonesers inherited an optimistic outlook as children in the 1960s, but were then confronted with a different reality as they entered the workforce during Reaganomics and the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, which ushered in a long period of mass unemployment. Mortgage interest rates increased to above 12 percent in the mid-eighties,[20] making it virtually impossible to buy a house on a single income. De-industrialization arrived in full force in the mid-late 1970s and 1980s; wages would be stagnant for decades, and 401Ks replaced pensions, leaving them with a certain abiding "jonesing" quality for the more prosperous days of the past.

Generation Jones is noted for coming of age after a huge swath of their older brothers and sisters in the earlier portion of the Baby Boomer population had; thus, many note that there was a paucity of resources and privileges available to them that were seemingly abundant to older Boomers. Therefore, there is a certain level of bitterness and "jonesing" for the level of doting and affluence granted to older Boomers but denied to them.[21]"

That sets the stage, for the most part. I was four when JFK was shot on TV. I was a wide-eyed, open-eared five year old when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and The Supremes were on the radio. I was ten when we landed on the moon, and I wanted to be a hippie at Woodstock at eleven. "Basketball Jones" came out when I was 12...I jonesed for a telescope because SPACE and got one from that great maker of fine telescopes, KMart.

Generationally, we jonesed to be ten years older, so we could have had all the cool shit THEY had. They had The Beatles, and we had the solo Beatles, they had Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and we had the fucking BeeGees and disco. It's like we, as a generation, were fated to live The K-Mart Knockoff of Life, instead of the bright, shiny Brand Name One all our older brothers and sisters got.

MUSIC and SCIENCE were EVERYTHING to us as kids/teens...the Eshittification Of Music truly began in 1973, and proceeded through SynthPop Hell in the '80s. Rock and Roll heroes became hairdos with guitars. The rock heroes of the '60s were getting married and having kids and baking bread. AM Radio ceased to be something you listened to for music...it began to replace music with strident, screaming hate voices that would eventually engulf all of AM Radio 24/7/365.

We were continually thwarted most of the way from our young adulthood on, blatantly from the moments in 1980 that the vile Ronald Reagan and the core operatives of evil for the next 50 years took over, and then the moment of what I call "Our Generational Wounding", the murder of John Lennon.

Back in '66, John had inflamed all the grandpas of todays magats by saying (truthfully) that with teens, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Beatle hate became a Very Big Thing in Bumfuck South Texas. Record burnings, merchandise burnings, book burnings, all were commonplace. A very palpable, and very specifically "Anti-Beatle" hate got instilled in a lot of kids/teens at that point, so anything to do with the Beatles was taboo for "good people" (read Southern Baptists) to like.

That, of course, made me love them that much more, and to follow their paths from their breakup forward with 'bated breath, buying every 45 they put out, trying to save pennies up to buy their albums.

John was the radical hippie, the one who wanted peace, the one with the weirdo wife, the one who held a "Bed-In" for peace. In a very fundamental-to-our-generation way, John Lennon was OUR "Jesus".

Richard Nixon (president from '68 to '74) HATED him.

In 1971, there was a true mass consciousness that incorporated us along with our older siblings, a musical mass consciousness. I became aware of many things in 1969, specifically fall of '69, so I was experiencing all this in real-time, as it happened. When the news that The Beatles officially broke up came across the AM radiowaves in May of '70, it was A. Very. Big. Deal. Everyone watched everything they did from that point on with GREAT interest.

George put out "My Sweet Lord" and "What Is Life" (first record I ever bought), John put out "Instant Karma", "Mother", then "Power To The People", then "Imagine". Ringo put out "It Don't Come Easy", and Paul & Linda had "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". EVERYBODY was a "post-breakup Beatle critic", panning Paul's very first solo 45 "Another Day", "Uncle Albert" was the followup. This band called Badfinger that sounded suspiciously like The Beatles appeared on American radio, and would make 1972 one of the final "Golden Years" of AM Rock Radio.

In 1970 we heard about this Elton John guy, by the end of '72, I was playing as many of his songs on the piano as I could figure out. My favorite album was (still is) "Madman Across The Water". When "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" came out in '73, a very noticeable shift was occuring.

Pop became much less political. It softened. It mellowed. It grew its hair long and lived in the country, learned how to grow potatoes and play the mandolin, making Country Rock the one lasting "legacy" of our sad sub-generation. By the time I graduated HS in May of '77, it was all there was on the radio, besides....disco. Oof.

One of my first TV memories was JFK getting shot. That was the Generational Wounding of our older brothers and sisters. When Mark Chapman (a Christian nationalist who changed the words of "Imagine" to "Imagine there's no John Lennon") shot John in December of 1980, it was the 2 in the 1-2 PUNCH done to our OUR generation. The first, of course, being the installing of Reagan and the evil Evangelical influence beginning in earnest.

It also began the buildup of the "Holy War" radical right, and an utter denial and clampdown of "hippie", of "counterculture" in general began, ensuring that John's vision of world peace would never come true, at least not on their watch. They had, effectively, killed OUR Jesus, along with our chances of the kind of security our older sibs got in spades. It also marked the unholy marriage of the evangelicals and the republican apparatus.

When Reagan got elected by virtue of the vile Newt Gingrich's 'Southern Strategy', a clampdown in earnest on the very SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE of our generation's incredible want and need, our collective JONESING for world peace began. Richard Nixon had planted the seeds. Nixon hated John Lennon with a passion. After Reagan was elected, I firmly believe Chapman was "activated" and they killed John as a Christmas present to Nixon.

It was after that, when the dream of a scientific future began to die, as well. When we were in high school, SCIENCE WAS EVERYTHING, so we wanted to be some kind of scientist "when we grew up".

I dealt with four years of college, majored in Biology, and in early 1981 realized my dream of being a Forest Ranger in Yosemite or some other national park somewhere, living in a cabin, giving talks to visitors about the biology aspects of the park....all that went POOF, almost instantaneously. My degree would get me nowhere, so I left before the end of that year and started working in record stores.

I was effectively the Cusack character in the movie about record stores, but it led to a dead end. Record stores weren't all that glamorous, and yes, the pay was dogshit. I tried working in record stores for the love of the music, while trying to BE a musician in a town FILLED OVER FLOWING with musicians, but that was quickly shat on by the beginning shrieks of late-stage capitalism.

It was like working in the record stores was my trying to keep holding onto the dream, our generation's dream...John's dream of world peace (along with my dream of being a working musician) died a pitiful death by the end of 1986.

What followed was nothing but a series of Jobs I Hated, and the beginnings of the true Jonesing for the life we'd been promised, because we didn't get the raises, the pensions, the house, the car, boat and camper, none of that shit for us. A life of being a low-paid, no-insurance drub, destined to be a life-long renter, unless a financial miracle happens.

So when people ask why we (as a generation) hate Ronald Reagan so much, let's just say I'm with Bugs on this one.

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, the Winchester Prank War has been officially rekindled. Cas and Jack, who have in the past acted as neutral parties, are slowly beginning to take sides. Neither will directly aid in harming the other brother, but Cas may have a hunting question for Sam while Dean hides all of his book marks, or Jack may ask Dean the difference between Jefferson Starship and Jefferson Airplane while Sam puts all of Dean's cassettes in the wrong cases.

[bucknastysbabe]

would you pls write canon criston smut? i love your criston fics!!

YES I WOULD LOVE TO!!!! Always brings me joy when people request pookie💘 a short lil fun one

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Blowjobs, infidelity, Criston’s residual guilt, marchers w benefits, wee subby space, Unwin Peake’s daughter, wet and sensual, he’s a soft baby truly, she just likes to please, caretaking

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemondsbabe @aemonds-holy-milk @rafeism @valeskafics @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2

Pleasing You - Ser Criston Cole x Peake!Reader

“Today, I feel like pleasing you, more than before. Today, I know what I wanna do, but I don't know what for.” -Today, Jefferson Airplane

They always seemed to meet in the Sept, the Lord Commander noted. He saw the woman in the orange and black of Starpike. He faintly remembered her as a girl when House Dondarrion paid a visit to their fellow Marcher Lords. She held a darkened countenance like Lord Unwin.

“Who are you praying for today, Ser Cole?” Lady Peake asked. Her eyes flashed as one of the streams of crystalline light caught her features. Criston eyed the fellow marcher, a discarded Lady-In-Waiting for Helaena with nowhere to go. She clasped her hands, kneeling in front of the Father.

“I pray for my father. He is marching with Lord Hightower as we speak.”

Criston hummed, “Lord Unwin is a powerful man, I shall spare a prayer for him. I pray to the warrior today, for all the men fighting for our cause, and for my own protection. We leave for Harrenhal soon.”

She made a noise, returning to the silence in the castle Sept. Criston did the same, focusing on his devotions. Poorly ignoring Lady Peake so gracefully whispering words of praise. The man closed his eyes tighter, hands clasping to the point his gloves creaked. He knew he was wound up tighter than a drawn crossbow.

Warm hands slid across his plated shoulders, a familiar scent at Ser Cole’s neck. Lady Peake purred, “Lord Hand, Commander, Ser— whatever Cole,” she thumbed at the tight cords of muscle at his neck.

“I know you need to rest. Care for some company and mayhaps a knead out of this horrid knot?” Criston groaned as her slender fingers circled around the bunched muscle.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” he croaked.

They made a quick route up to the Hand’s quarters, Criston eyeing around, tense and jumpy. He noticed Peake was cool as ever, her quiet disposition the same, a resolute firmness to her being. The marcher needed that. It’s what their shared culture was all about. War, strength, and duty to protect. You must appear brave even in the face of fear.

As they climbed the stairs she tugged his cloak and asked “This must be heavy, you poor thing.” Criston snipped back, “I’ve been wearing this for twenty-odd years, I believe I’m fine Lady Peake.” Her laugh was raspy and playful, something nice in these dreary days. He rationalized his feelings for her as desperation from stress. Simply a transaction.

She stopped him in the center of the room, nimble hands undoing his armor. Peake commented, “If it makes you feel better, I used to do this to my husband all the time. So we share equal guilt. Lucas marches along with the host from the south.”

Criston’s eyes followed her, mouth working around a thought. She placed his gorget, pauldrons, and chest plate on the gilded rack. The fellow marcher sighed, “I can see you know how to undress a knight. Why even please me?”

She looked up with a blank expression, taking off gauntlets. Lady Peake replied, “I don’t know, I just want to. Does it bring you anguish for me to pleasure you?” Criston shook his head, fingers snapping at his padded tunic. She batted off Criston’s hands and redirected his ass to perch on the desk. Otto’s desk. Lyonel’s desk. He swallowed down more guilt, caressing her cheek.

“You beat yourself harder than any man I’ve seen you knock into the ground, you know,” she commented idly. His tunic was open now, only tan breeches and a loose shirt remained. Criston’s cock strained at the fabric, leaving a wet spot. He was a pathetic whore, leaking at simple touches.

“Criston,” she snapped.

“Sorry, I,” he stammered.

“Go sit in the chair sweetheart. Unlace your breeches.”

He followed her orders dutifully, shucking his shirt off, pants coming down to his ankles. Criston hissed at the cold air hitting his flushed cock, the member hitting his taught belly. Lady Peake smirked down at him, pulling the laces of her dress free, ample tits spilling out. He choked on a whine, cock throbbing once more. She dropped to her knees, soft lips kissing at his sore thighs.

Criston tried to relax his muscles, give in to her offered pleasure. He softened his stomach, neck, shoulders, and even his persistent tight jaw. She murmured against his groin, “There we go, relax for me.” Criston nodded slowly, rumbling, “I’m trying, pretty girl, I’m trying.”

Her lips pressed a lush kiss to his sensitive skin, trailing up to his hip. Criston eyed her tits, he wished to fuck them later, maybe she would let him. He inhaled sharply when she mouthed at the base of his cock, long lashes fluttering. The woman’s hand came up to gently roll his sac around, nice and snug and warm.

He groaned, eyelids falling shut as she purred for him to relax a little more. Her hot tongue laved around the length of his cock, suckling gentle and sweet at a twitching vein. His hands fought to grip the chair but laid limp, the word ‘relax’ repeating over and over and over. He whined softly, lips falling open.

The marcher woman enveloped the ruddy tip of his cock with her mouth, hollowing and sucking at the same slow pace. She’d dig her tongue in little circles around the tip, Criston moaning her name. She drooled on purpose, slicking him up luridly. Yet the way Lady Peake behaved it was as if she were merely lending a helping hand, a kind word or act. Not sucking his cock like a trained whore.

Another whine burst from the knight’s throat as she eased him down her throat, breathing roughly through her nose. The hand cupping his balls squeezed a hair, her silky wet throat enveloped around him. She swallowed in pulses, scrambling coherency for Criston besides becoming a moaning and rambling mess.

She bobbed her head, tight throat pulling on his sensitive extra skin. Lady Peake moaned around his length, squirming and rubbing her tits up against his legs. All while taking him deep and sensual, like they had all the time in the world. The knight garbled, “L-let me, can I, y-your hair?”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed, the vibrations eliciting a low moan of pleasure. She felt so good— molding his ever twirling mind into soft clay. Mush. He carefully leaned forward, one of his hands carding into her locks, the other reaching for her breast. Criston stuttered on his compliment, balls aching.

Her nose prickled at his pubes, dark eyes hazy with pleasure. She swallowed him down repeatedly, a lazy way in which she chose the pace. Criston couldn’t jerk her around, he mindlessly pet her hair and made pathetic noises, a heat building low in his belly. It was hotter than the dragon flames he’d seen, curling and smoking.

“Oh- oh gods, pretty girl,” he gasped, cock twitching.

She hooked fingers behind his tightening balls, massaging his taint. He cried out, the heat licking up Criston’s spine now. His dark head was thrown back, throat bobbing as he drew out her name. The sweetest agony. So slow yet powerful. The tension was melting from his body, the Lord Commander drooling and downright squirming as he oozed down her throat.

“Don’t stop, s’close, yes, good baby,” he slurred.

She didn’t.

It felt like ages before she was bobbing at s rapid pace, slender digits pumping his sweet spot. Criston shivered, sweating all over and unable to speak. The fire was consuming him as he gripped her hair, whining and pleading. The band would snap soon, plunging him into white-hot ecstasy.

“Closecloseclose, seven hells,” he grunted, cock unloading into her swollen lips. He cried, gasping for air between whines as he spurt down her tight throat. All while she swallowed and moaned, nipples hard and tight for him. She pulled off, swallowing once more as she wiped her mouth, grabbing a discarded rag to wipe him off. Lady Peake rasped, “Sound so good, feeling better? I have that massage for you now.”

Criston babbled, “Yes, yes, you’re too good. Lovely. Jus- let me gather, hngh, my wits.

[bea-lele-carmen]

Today, I feel like pleasing you

More than before

Today, I know what I wanna do

But I don't know what for

To be living for you

Is all I want to do

To be loving you

It'll all be there

When my dreams come true

Today, you'll make me say

That I somehow have changed

Today, you look into my eyes

I'm just not the same

To be any more than all I am

Would be a lie

I'm so full of love

I could burst apart

And start to cry

Today, everything you want

I swear it all will come true

Today, I realize how much

I'm in love with you

With you standing here

I could tell the world

What it means to love

To go on from here

I can't use words

That don't say enough

Please, please, listen to me

It's taken so long to come true

And it's all for you, all for you

[brynnterpretations]

WHAT MUSIC THE LOSERS CLUB LISTENS TO ☻

Ben Hanscom

Ben loves sentimental ‘80s pop and boy bands, with his favorite artists being New Edition, New Kids on the Block, and The Jets. It sounds good, is catchy, and most of all, resonates with Ben — say what you want about that sort of music, but the tracks are undeniably well-written (even if corny in today’s standards), and Ben loves it for the artistry and sound. Plus, the singers always look really cool.

Beverly Marsh

Bev loves female-fronted classic rock, with her favorite artists being Blondie, Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, and The Runaways. After her mother passed of breast cancer when Bev was three, the only music record she’d left behind was The Runaways’ self-titled debut album, and she listened to  it religiously. Because of that, she developed a taste for rock and alternative music led by women, and her room is chock-full of Stevie Nicks posters. 

Bill Denbrough

Bill loves folk and psychedelia, with his favorite artists being Donovan, Jefferson Airplane, and Harry Nilsson. Bill likes music that he can appreciate the lyrics of yet still “turn off his brain to”, and especially enjoys ones that are intertwined with nature (whether it’s the songwriting or the “feel” of the song). 

Eddie Kaspbrak

Eddie loves ‘60s doo-wop, with his favorite artists being . Eddie. Because he’s so sheltered that even the radio is off limits to him, Eddie grew up on older music, but he likes it — it reminds him of Coca-Cola, summer bike rides with the rest of the Losers, and sunny days. Admittedly, Eddie also is a big fan of ‘60s girl bands like The Shirelles, but he tries to hide it due to Richie being an ass. 

Mike Hanlon 

Mike loves classic rock with blues influences, with his favorite artists being Howlin’ Wolf, John Lee Hooker, and Muddy Waters. Mike was raised on the 20th-century blues powerhouses by his family — AKA Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, and Son House — and his music taste reflects that. He is a huge music guy, and takes special care of all his vinyls. 

Richie Tozier

Richie loves funky, upbeat new wave, with his favorite artists being DEVO, Oingo Boingo, and Walls of Flesh. Basically, he likes fun, textured music that stimulates his thirteen-year-old brain, with interesting lyrics that range from humorous to absolutely nonsensical. In contrast to Mike, while Richie loves music, he does not take care of his equipment, and has fried his Sony CD player from the sheer force he used to blast “Dead Man’s Party” through it. 

Stan Uris

Stan loves “big band” and swing music, with his favorite artists being Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong. Stan-the-Man, ever prim and proper, has always been attracted to more sophisticated music, but still likes the fun, jazzy stuff that his favorite musicians offer — see “You Make Me Feel So Young” by Frank Sinatra, one of his all-time favorites.

[2000s-music-tourney]

Here are today's rounds:

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra vs Space Oddity by David Bowie

Respect by Aretha Franklin vs Stand by Me by Ben E. King

My Way by Frank Sinatra vs Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Feeling Good by Nina Simone vs You really got me by the Kinks

Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond vs Can't take my eyes off you by Frankie valli

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys vs Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong vs Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel

All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix vs Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan vs Be my Baby by the Ronettes

I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown vs People are strange by the Doors

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner vs Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles vs 21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson

Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company vs House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones vs Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto vs Tainted Love by Gloria Jones

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redmond vs Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's vs Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick vs Season of the Witch by Donovan

[fishklok]

A pivotal moment from Magnus' childhood

(Inspired by me. When I left my apartment today to get groceries, but came back with a Jefferson Airplane record instead)

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

She Has Funny Cars • Somebody to Love • My Best Friend • Today • Comin' Back to Me • 3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds • D.C.B.A.-25 • How Do You Feel • Embryonic Journey • White Rabbit • Plastic Fantastic Lover

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[yeahiwasintheshit]

I’ve heard people say that ‘Gimme Shelter’ is the best concert movie ever made, and after having watched it tonight, I can’t disagree. There’s nothing more boring to me than seeing a movie of a band just playing music, but this movie is not that. Yes there’s a handful of songs entirely played, but what makes this movie more than a regular concert movie is that they really documented the crowd at altamont speedway. You see drug dealers calling out what they have, people freaking the fuck out on who knows what kind of drugs, naked people, naked people freaking out, babies, lots of hippies, car parked for miles and miles all happening in a sea of over 300,000 people. You really get a sense of 1969. And it doesn’t look much different than it does today. Lol The hells angels just beating the shit out of people with pool cues. Bloody people on stretchers. It really is an insane document of this day. In the first minute on arriving at the altamont speedway, mick jagger is punched in the face, all caught on film. And the violence and chaos just keeps ramping up. Jefferson Airplane are on stage and people just rush it, and someone punches the singer Marty balin. They stop the music and grace slick tries to calm down the audience and calls out for the audience and the hells angels to stop the violence and someone in the hells angels grabs the mic and yells at her that they can’t talk to their hells angels brothers like that. These people are all clearly drunk or on something. It’s really a wild scene in a movie of wild scenes. All culminating in a real like stabbing death caught on film right in front of The Rolling Stones playing ‘under my thumb’. Definitely worth a watch

[amygdalae]

Today's song of the day is Collide's cover of White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

Have a listen with me if you'd like ^u^