#yeah yeah mclennan

[blackramhall]

Psycho Killer Qu'est-ce que c'est? Fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, better Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away, oh-oh-oh-oh Ay-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya! Then the guitar come in. Ooh, yeah. Deadloch - Episode 1 created by Kate McCartney and Kate McLennan

Blackram Hall: whodunit, murder mystery, hardboiled, pulp, crime, thriller, italian giallo, noir and neo-noir, detectives and serial killers, spy stories, vintage, manor houses, art, life and death. Avatar pic by Mitchell Turek

[harrison-abbott]

McLennan

I had a teacher at university called Dr McLennan. He was in the History department. History wasn’t my degree; I did a module in it during my second year. And back when I was that age, I was quite vocal in class. Dr McLennan was as well; and so we developed a rapport during tutorials. I liked him. Nice accent, an unusual way of talking.

We were both super interested in World War II. This was the historical period we were most keen on. Because, this conflict has a kind of fictious quality to it. Its stories are so wild that they are hard to believe.

But, yeah, McLennan and I spoke a lot during the class. The other students were a bit shy, or disinterested: and so the chat was mostly between McLennan and me.

At the end of one of the tutorials, the other folks were leaving the class and then they’d all left: and I hadn’t packed my stuff up yet – so it was just McLennan and I in the room. And he said to me: “I’m going down to the coffeeshop on the campus, if you want to join me?” I said:

“Oh, I was actually just about to go there too. So, yeah.”

So then I was technically hanging out with McLennan. It was a bit strange. But I’ve always gotten on better with older people. We sat in the coffeeshop. He even bought my coffee for me, saying, “Oh, it’s all right, lad: I’ll get yours. I remember what it’s like being young and a student. You don’t have that much money. But, hey, I reckon you’ll be an academic yourself one day. You have a knack for history.”

And whilst we were sitting at our battle, he told me stories about the Nazi upper clan; those fucked up, psychotic men who were responsible for all they did. Most of them had surprising personal vulnerabilities in their life histories. Just like the biggest of them, the top man. But the biographies of the ‘Top Nazis’ were fairly similar. I didn’t know a lot of that. It was intriguing. After we’d finished coffee, we left and walked up the back alleyway. Nice cobbled alley. We were the only people there. McLennan told me he had to go back to the History Department – the building it was at. Cool, I said. He offered me a handshake. I shook it.

Then he did something I thought was a bit odd. He hugged me. You know when somebody touches you physically in a starling way, and you don’t really know how to react to it? Well … I didn’t hug him back because it surprised me. But then he smiled and said:

“See you next tutorial, lad. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Okay Sir, see you then.”

The next tutorial with him was on the Friday. So I went into the class and saw him and the others. And I looked at McLennan curiously. But he didn’t seem to register the curiosity in my face. He was just his typical intelligent self. And on that particular day, the Battle of Stalingrad came up. So we got speaking about that.

That week also marked the point of our next academic assignment. We had to do a 3000 word essay. Luckily, one of the questions was about, umm, Stalingrad. So I immediately picked that.

I got my teeth into writing the essay. And submitted it after many hours of working on it. I wanted and hoped to get a good mark off of McLennan (he being the marker). And nervously waited for results day to come through … Sure enough. I got an A.

McLennan had this old fashioned way of meeting up with the students one on one to discuss the essay with them. I should have told you how old he was. McLennan was perhaps in his 50s. He looked good for his age; he seemed comfortable and assured with his self. Which is what I liked about him.

So I went along one afternoon, to the History Department building, to speak to him. I made my way through the building and found his office, and knocked on his door. And heard his voice beckoning for me to enter.

“Hello there, lad. Come and sit down, please.”

His office was stuffed with books. A mini library. Old, funky books: tantalising you to read them. And it looked like McLennan had already been reading eight books at once today – they were scattered all over his desk.

“Right, lad,” he said, “let’s have a look at your essay.”

So the mark he’d given me was 18/20. McLennan began exploring the writing with me. Most of his comments were complimentary, and this bloomed my confidence. Then he pointed out some things that I could work on: reasons why the essay wasn’t 20/20. It can often be tricky to take criticism. But when it’s from somebody that you respect, you tend to take the feedback a bit easier. So I listened properly.

“But, in short,” he said, “You got an A. Well done, lad.” McLennan stood up. And he came around his desk, and sat on the edge of it, a yard away from me, and looked at me. I peered up at him, confusedly. He said: “I really like speaking with you. As I said last time – you could be a fantastic academic figure one day. Just like me.” I nodded. Then McLennan sidled along the desk, so that he was right in front of me. I gulped. What was he doing? And then he said:

“You’re such a Beaut as well.” He touched the hair on my forehead with his forefinger and quiffed it to the side. I really wasn’t liking this. Creepy. All kinds of violent sexual threat flooded over me. And I suddenly got why McLennan had been so enthusiastic with me throughout the whole semester. I stood up from my chair and said: “Thank you, Sir. I have to go now. There’s another tutorial I have in an hour.” This was a lie. I didn’t have another tutorial. But it was an excuse to get out of his office ASAP.

There was one final tutorial with McLennan’s class. The following week. I didn’t go. You could miss one tutorial throughout the semester and wouldn’t be sanctioned for it. I did not want to see McLennan again. And that creepy incident in his office bothered me for the rest of my tenure at university.

[harrystormauthor]

DEPUTY HOLLOWAY ASSAULTS WIFE ON MOTHER'S DAY

Nice. KWTX finally figured out that I was “on” to something so they managed to get the details of Allan Holloway’s arrest IN the Courthouse a few days ago. They have Ex-McLennan County Sheriff’s Office Deputy because after he was arrested he was fired. Duhh. Yeah, what these ole boys think is “heavy pettin'” ain’t. Hats off to the large testicles of the Hewitt PD who showed their true blue…

[moodylifeboards]

The sandlot 4th of July

[openheart12]

A New Beginning

Summary: Tony and Michelle are once again thrown back into the chaos that is CTU. The same place that tore their family apart, is the same place where they get their second chance at a life.

WC: 4,441

Michelle never thought she would be standing in front of him in the same place that tore them apart, but here they were. She hadn’t seen him in six months and even though this is the hardest thing she’s had to endure, it was better this way. 

Especially since he was the one who asked her to leave. 

Her heart ached at the memory she tried to bury deep within her but it always found a way to bubble up to the surface. 

They locked eyes and she noticed how much different he looked compared to six months ago, hope fluttered in her chest that maybe he finally cleaned himself up. 

If not for her, then for Avery. She deserved to have her father in her life. 

Michelle had found out she was pregnant just less than a year after they had gotten married. Both of them were beyond ecstatic although nervous. 

Tony had ensured that Michelle stayed out of the field and he only went as a last resort. When they found out they were having a baby girl, a mini Michelle, Tony had been adamant on her name much to Michelle’s dismay. 

But when Avery Michelle Almeida made her entrance into the world, during a national security crisis nonetheless, she was deemed perfect and healthy. At six pounds and seven ounces, and nineteen inches long, she already had her parents wrapped around her little finger. 

Michelle recalled the moment, remembering how Chapelle was pissed that he had to come in as their replacements, but neither of them had cared in that moment. She remembered all the congratulations they received from their friends, how happy everyone was for them. 

CTU had played a big part in the course of their relationship. It was where they met, where they shared their first kiss, where he actually ended up proposing, where they had to come in the middle of their honeymoon, and now the place where their baby was born. 

And it was going to be the place where they reunited, unbeknownst to them. 

Almost everyone knew of their history so they were inclined to see how the day would go. The people they worked with before knew about their daughter, but the newest employees had no idea. Most of them knew that this was the first time they’ve seen each other in a while since the divorce. 

Almost all eyes were on them when she made her way through the bullpen and into the center next to Secretary Heller. 

Secretary Heller asked Tony to bring her up to speed and he told her of the events at McLennan-Forrester and Jack and Paul. After he finished, he started to walk away as she called after him. 

“Tony, I need the access codes for CTU and Division.” 

He nodded and handed them to her, their fingers brushed against each other for a brief second. She thanked him and as she turned around to go, he asked her, “what do you want me to do?”

“Division’s sending over a supplemental list of terrorists who supposedly had contacts with Habib Marwan. Check any names that have been flagged by other agencies, including overseas.” 

“Given what’s happening right now, it doesn’t seem like the best use of my time.”

“It has to be done and I’d like you to do it.” She started to walk away when he reached out and gently grabbed her arm. 

“Michelle, Jack and Paul have information that could be vital to ending this crisis. I should be helping us find them, Michelle!”

“The last time I saw you, you couldn’t stay sober long enough to keep a job.” 

“That was six months ago.”

“This is what I need you to do. If you don’t like it, you can resign.” 

He let out a sigh, scratching the side of his cheek. “I’m gonna need a security clearance,” he relented. 

“I’ll make sure you get a level three.” 

“Level three?” He scoffed. “I used to have a six.” 

“Right now, all you need is three,” she turned on her heel and walked into the situation room where a woman was sitting. She was looking through the files in front of her when the woman started speaking to her. 

“Is there a problem with Agent Almeida?” 

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that Secretary Heller is very sensitive to personal conflicts on the job. I know your history. I know that you guys were married and that he sacrificed his career to save your life, but if this is gonna be a problem-”

Who the hell was this woman, parading around like she knew anything about her and Tony’s relationship. “His being here will not affect my work. I won’t let it. Now, if Secretary Heller wants to speak to me about it, I’ll be more than glad to,” she said, signaling the end of this conversation. 

With Sarah gone and Chloe back in play, the two of them found a way to put their personal problems aside and work as a team again. Michelle regretted not listening to Tony’s insight about Jack, knowing that he knew Jack and his tactics better than she did. But she couldn’t tell if she did it out of spite or not and that bothered her because she never let anything interfere with her work. 

She tried apologizing, saying that she valued his input, which she did, but the damage had been done and the worst of it was yet to come. 

Bill Buchanan strode through CTU and Michelle quickly introduced him to everyone else there. Her and Tony were standing close together talking after their failed attempt at capturing Marwan when Bill walked up next to them. 

“Did you secure Marwan yet?” 

“No, he must’ve slipped through the perimeter,” Michele explained. 

“How the hell could you let that happen?” Bill accused, taking Michelle by surprise. 

“It doesn't matter how it happened,” Tony defended. “What matters is that he’s gone and we’re doing everything we can to find him.” He and Michelle might not be together anymore, but he’d be damned if he let anyone talk to her like that, especially since it was a situation out of her control. 

“What exactly are you doing to find him?” Bill asked, turning his attention to Michelle. 

“We widened the perimeter, set up a search grid, state police and LAPD are conducting a sweep,” she answered as they were interrupted. 

A few minutes later, Bill walked up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, um, I’m sorry if I snapped.” 

“It’s okay, we’re all under a lot of pressure.”

“You holding up?” He asked softly. 

“I’m fine,” she smiled, hoping to convince him and herself of that. 

Michelle wasn’t aware that Tony had seen their interaction. Tony knew something had probably transpired between the two and wanted to know the extent of it so he made his way towards Chloe. 

“How long has Buchanan been at Division?” He asked her. 

“Well, it took awhile to fill Chapelle’s position… six months.” 

That’s how long ago she left, he thought. That wasn’t fair and he knew it since he told her to leave. “Where was he before that?” 

“Seattle, I think.”

“Seattle?” 

“Yeah, that’s where Michelle was posted while you were in jail, right?” Chloe asked, piecing it together. She was one of the few who didn’t know what had happened between Michelle and Tony, it wasn’t her business so she stayed out of it. 

“Yeah… thanks.” 

Tony had debated on confronting her about it or not and his curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “Michelle,” he called to get her attention, “when were you planning on telling me?” 

“About what?” 

“About you and Buchanan.” 

She immediately became defensive, already knowing she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed. “Never because it’s none of your business.”

“Michelle, before you worked with him at Division, you worked with him at Homeland Security restructuring, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We were still married then.” 

“Legally… yes.” 

“Did you sleep with him while we were married?” 

She stared at him in disbelief. “No, I didn’t.” 

“But you are now?” 

“Like I said, it’s none of your business. You know, it’s not like I have time to do anything between work and raising my daughter,” she retorted. 

That jab took him by surprise and he hung his head low and walked away. She felt guilty, but he accused her of cheating on him while they were still married. She couldn’t even look at another man, even now, she was still completely and utterly in love with Tony. 

Hours had passed by since their encounter and he wanted to clear the air between them, the tension was at an all time high. 

“Michelle,” he began, “I was out of line a couple hours ago about you and Bill. It’s your life and I’ve got no right to judge you.” 

“I appreciate that,” she said sincerely. 

“And whatever tension there is between us, I would like to apologize for my part in it. I’d like it if we could just let it go so we can do our jobs. Leave the past in the past,” he finished. “And if it would be okay with you, I’d like to be in Avery’s life and I know I don’t deserve it, but she’s all I have left,” he added, sadness lacing his words. 

“That sounds good,” she lied with a smile. “I know Ave would love to see you. She misses her daddy.” I miss him too, she thought to herself. Not to mention that she wasn’t ready to let go of their past just yet, she may never be ready to. 

“We can talk about it later,” he said before going back to work and she did the same thing. 

Both of them seemed to be working together better after their conversation, just like they used to. They became one again, putting their time and effort into the crisis at hand. 

“Anything new?”

“Yeah, White House just authorized adding Iowa army reserve units to the ground search.”

“Have they widened the perimeter?”

“Yeah, they locked down a 60-mile radius around the area where the warhead was stolen, but I’m concerned Marwan’s people might’ve managed to sneak it outside that perimeter.”

“Well, we closed all major roads and air traffic immediately, but there is a chance they got it through.”

“Homeland Security’s faxing over casualty projections based on that possibility,” he said just as the fax started to ring.

“That’s probably them right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.”

Another phone started to ring and she answered it, “CTU.”

“I’m calling for Tony Almeida. Who’s this?”

“This is Michelle Dessler, a colleague of his. May I ask who’s calling?”

“The woman he happens to be living with. Is he there?”

She felt as if she had just gotten kicked in the stomach. “Yeah, hold on. It’s for you,” she said, handing him the phone.

“Who is it?”

“The woman you’re living with.” She answered, hurt was evident in her eyes. 

“Jen,” he answered with a sigh. 

“I’ve been calling everyone we know going crazy looking for you. Then finally I thought maybe Jack Bauer took you back there. God, do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve called earlier. I’ve been very busy.”

“Really busy with Michelle Dessler?”

“I’m working, Jen.”

“Oh, for CTU?”

“On a provisional basis, yeah.”

“I thought you hated that place.”

“Things have changed a little.”

“Yeah, I guess they have.”

“Look, Jen, we can talk about this later. Right now, I gotta go. All right?”

“Tony, what’s your ex-wife doing there?”

“Jen, I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” he said before hanging up. He rubbed his face, knowing how big of a jackass he had been earlier. “Michelle, um, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

“It’s really none of my business.”

“Yeah, it is,” he countered. She started to walk away and he followed after her. “I should’ve told you I was living with someone else.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Listen to me,” he gently grabbed her arm, turned her around, and backed her into the wall. “When you left, everything fell apart. Jen happened to be there for me.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for your relationship.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Do you love her?” She asked, afraid of his answer.

 He didn’t hesitate before answering. “No.”

“Ms. Dessler, the new protocols from DOD just came in. Should I send them to your screen?” Edgar told him, quite aware that he was interrupting something. 

“Send them to station sixteen,” she answered and with one last look at him, she walked past him. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed since Jen called and she hadn’t talked to Tony since and truth be told, she had been avoiding him to try to sort out her feelings. 

Her phone started to ring and she answered automatically, “Dessler?”

“Hey, Michelle, it’s Allison.”

Allison was Avery’s babysitter and panic immediately started to set in after seeing what time it was. “Is Avery okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s fine. She just misses you and wants to talk to you. I tried to tell her you were at work, but you know how stubborn she is.” 

Michelle smiled for the first real time today, leave it to her daughter to be the reason. “Let me talk to her, I have a few minutes.” 

“Momma?” She heard her daughter's tinge voice say. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you still doing up?” 

“I miss you a bunch. When are you coming home?” 

“Not for another couple hours, but what if I told you I have a surprise for you when I get home?” 

“Ooohhh, what is it?” 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” She laughed at her excitement. “But you have to go to sleep to get it.” 

“Okay, okay. I love you, momma.” 

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you soon.” She reluctantly hung up. She swore she had to have the easiest five year old who actually listened to her. 

“Everything okay?” She turned around to see Tony’s worried expression. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. That was Avery.” 

“Is she okay?” He asked as worry started to set in. 

“Yeah, she just wanted to talk.” 

“Leave it to our kid to be awake way past her bedtime,” he joked. 

“I wonder who she gets that from,” she teased back with an easy smile. 

“Hey, my sleeping habits have gotten a lot better,” he defended himself with a laugh. “At least I don’t take up half of the bed when I sleep.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, Almeida,” she shot back. They were treading into dangerous territory by bringing up the past but before either of them could say anything, Michelle was called away and she gave him an apologetic smile. 

After the news of the attack on the Chinese Consulate circulated through CTU, it only made finding the warhead a bigger priority and it didn’t help that Cheng Zhi demanded to come to CTU to get some answers. 

Michelle was just getting off the phone when Tony walked into her office. “This situation with the Consulate is dragging us down. We shouldn’t be diverting resources away from finding that warhead.” 

She was amazed at how they were thinking the same thing. “Well, hopefully this is just a formality and we can get rid of him quickly. If we don’t get information from Lee, Audrey’s husband would’ve died for nothing,” she said, leaning against her desk. 

“What is she still doing here?” Tony asked, staring down at her through the glass panel. 

“I think she wants to stay busy so she doesn’t have to think about it,” she answered softly. She was familiar with the concept herself. 

“It’s funny, when I met Audrey this afternoon, it seemed she and Jack were totally together… a few hours later and everything has changed.” Just like it had with them. He turned to look at her before speaking again. “Michelle, I hate being without you,” he said softly. 

“I never wanted it to be this way,” she answered honestly. “And Avery… she deserves to have her dad around.” 

The phone rang telling them that Chang had arrived and just like that, they were back in work mode. 

Later, they were up in her office once again. “Tactical is at Richard’s house, they’re going through his things right now.” 

“What about Jack?” Tony asked. 

“Jack and Curtis are on their way back right now.” 

“Someone has to tell Audrey that Jack is going to be interrogating her brother.” 

“Audrey’s not going to want Jack near her brother,” Tony pointed out. 

“Can’t be helped… I mean if Richard knows something about that missile…” she trailed off. 

“It’s funny, this morning Jack and Audrey were planning their future, now he’s responsible for her husband's death and he may have to torture her brother.” 

“Yet, every move he’s made has been the right one.” She went over and sat down on the couch. 

“Not if he wanted to be with her.” He took a seat beside her. “Look, Michelle, everything that’s happened today, it’s been hard going through it with you again.” 

“It’s been hard for me too.” 

“I look at what this job does to people in our positions and I realize,” he met her eyes, “I want us to be together again, but it’s gotta be away from all this. We shouldn’t have to put our country over our family.” 

Getting back together didn’t come as a surprise to her, she had been expecting it, but leaving the job completely took her off guard. 

“You want us to leave our jobs?” He nodded. “We’ve spent the last twelve years of our lives doing this. Where would we go? What would we do?” 

“I don’t care… Look, people start over every day if it’s important to them and you are important to me and so is Avery. I want my family back, Michelle.” 

“You’re asking me to leave the only thing I’ve ever done?” 

“Yes, I am,” he answered. She turned her head away from him, her thoughts scrambling all over the place.

 He went to walk out her door when she stopped him. “Why did you want me to leave?”

“I thought it was for the best and plus, Ave didn’t need to see me like that. I wasn’t the husband or father that I needed to be and I was humiliated and ashamed of myself. I thought I was helping you and that you would eventually figure out that you deserved so much more than I could offer you. Prison was the worst time of my life and I just, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me like I was of myself.” 

“Do you ever regret it,” she asked hesitantly. “Saving me, I mean.” 

“Michelle, I never once regretted my decision to save you. If I had to, I would do it again because I love you. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve had the best three years of my life. Our girl wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for you.  The only thing I regret is telling you to leave, thinking that it would help both of us when it only made things worse.”

“But look where we are now because of me.”

“Exactly, Michelle, Avery has both of her parents. I’m willing to fix us, if you are. I love you more than my life itself and I love our little girl. Nothing is ever going to change that fact. This job isn’t worth it anymore, it’s not more important than you or Avery.” 

“Okay,” she smiled, tears in her eyes. 

“Okay?” He mirrored her smile. 

“I’m ready to leave here. I’m ready to go with you.”

He swiftly walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Are you sure? Because I’m not letting go of you again.” 

“I can’t spend another day without you,” she confirmed and that was all he needed to seal his lips over hers. It had been six months since he saw her, six months since he last touched her and even longer since he last kissed  her. The kiss spoke more than words could ever say. 

After a minute, he pulled back, both of them breathless with huge grins on their faces. Stupid love drunk grins. 

“I love you from now until forever,” he told her. 

“I will love you always,” she choked out. He knew repeating part of their vows would make her emotional, but he wanted her to know that he was serious about trying again. 

This is forever. 

“Come on, let’s get back to work so we can go home.” 

Home. It sounded too good to be true, but nonetheless, she was ready to start fresh. A new beginning was exactly what they needed. 

Hours passed by, Marwan was dead, the missile had been destroyed, and they had just helped Jack fake his death with the help of Chloe and President Palmer. 

Dropping Jack off for the last time was hard for both of them, but Michelle could see the toll it took on Tony. They were friends for years and had come to trust each other like brothers. 

She covered his hand with hers and he intertwined their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” she repeated with a smile. She gave him the directions to her apartment and they arrived twenty minutes later. Looking over at him, she could tell he was nervous. “Come on,” she nudged him slightly. 

The afternoon sun bathed the building in a golden glow with white clouds drifting lazily in the breeze. It was a beautiful day in California. 

They got out of the SUV and Michelle led him up the stairs to her front door. “It’ll be okay,” she reassured him.

The keys turned the lock, a soft click was heard before she opened the door. A woman who Tony didn’t recognize was seated in the kitchen. 

She nodded in acknowledgment before turning her attention to Michelle. 

“Avery’s in her room playing and we did all of her homework, she hasn’t eaten lunch yet because she wanted to wait to eat with you,” she laughed softly. “Are you going to need me tomorrow?” She asked, looking between her and Tony. 

“Probably not, but I’ll give you a call if that changes. We’re supposed to have a couple days off,” Michelle explained. “Thank you, Allison.” They bid their goodbyes and Tony wandered over to the living room, where the pictures of Avery caught his eye. 

“I can’t believe I let things get this bad,” he said, choking back tears. 

“Oh, Tony.” Michelle strided over towards him, wrapping her arms around him as he clung to her. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating. 

“Shh,” she soothed him gently, rubbing small circles across his back. 

“Momma?” A tiny voice asked and she felt Tony tense in her arms. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted, turning around to face her daughter. Her little eyes were trained on the person behind her who was now trying to stifle his sobs. 

“Daddy’s home?” She asked, a hint of hope in her voice. 

“Daddy’s home,” Michelle smiled as her eyes filled with tears. 

Avery tentatively walked up behind him and placed her arms around his legs. Tony stood there for a few seconds, soaking in the feeling of being home before squatting down to her level. 

“Hey, pretty lady,” he greeted with a smile, placing a kiss on her cheek. 

“I missed you,” she cried out, throwing her small arms around his neck. 

“I missed you so much.” He told her. 

Michelle watched the two of them, her heart swelling with joy. Her family was together again, her perfect little family. 

“Can we watch The Little Mermaid?” She asked after a few minutes, making her parents laugh. 

“I see not that much has changed,” he teased, referencing Avery’s favorite movie since she was a year old. Avery led Tony over to the couch where they plopped down on it together, her talking animatedly about anything and everything that came to her mind and Tony listened intently. 

These were the moments she missed the most, just the three of them together. She watched them for a few more minutes until she headed towards the kitchen to make some popcorn. 

She didn’t even know Tony was in there until she felt his arms wrap around her and his chin resting on her shoulder. “Are you already tired of me? It’s only been a day, Michelle.” 

“What?”

“You’re making popcorn… ya know, it requires using the microwave, right? Are you trying to kill me already?” He teased her. 

“I think I can handle a microwave.” 

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I recall a time where you almost set our house on fire when you heated up that Chinese food without taking it out the box.” 

“Shut up!” She laughed, turning around in his arms. “I’ve gotten better since then because-” she stopped, her smile faltering. She learned how to cook, to the best of her ability, after leaving Tony so that her and Avery wouldn’t have to survive off of takeout for three meals a day. 

“I know,” was all he said. 

“We have to be able to talk about it instead of just pushing it aside. Not like what we did last time.” 

“And we will, but now, we have a movie to watch. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.” 

“Okay,” she relented with an easy smile, her cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling she had done within the past couple of hours. 

They heard Avery come back to the living room, calling for Tony and the two of them together grabbed the popcorn and snacks and sat down on the couch with Avery between them. She was dressed in her The Little Mermaid pajamas to match the movie. 

As the movie started, Michelle stole one last glance at them and smiled yet again. This is what their life was going to start looking like from now on once they left CTU, the place where this all became possible, but the same place that could take it all away in a split second.

This was their second chance, their new beginning, and she wasn’t going to waste it. 

[aaeoluss]

Taken From: Up In Flames (WC: 700)

St. Albans, VT, 1996

Chapter 1, scene 6, abridged 

As I came around the corner of the building, I saw a figure standing under a streetlight. He had his back turned towards me, but as I got closer, I realized it was Russell.

My first instinct was to turn around and walk the long way back to my dorm, because he looked somewhat like he didn’t want to be bothered, but then I wondered if I should say something. I had this vague idea of making some sort of witty remark, but I couldn’t think of anything. I was then momentarily distracted by catching a glimpse of someone standing in one of the upper windows—she was looking at me, but she looked away quickly when she saw that I had noticed her. 

Suddenly, Russell’s voice cut through the silence. “‘Every fact that he had in it was wrong, except that the girl was stabbed’.”

Startled, more by the sound than what he had said, I stopped. “What?” I managed. 

He turned to face me, looking similarly surprised. “Oh. Josh,” he said. “I was expecting Aria.”

“Aria?” I repeated blankly. 

“We were talking about—” he started, then cut himself off. He shook his head. “Never mind. It isn’t important.”

“No, I know it. Henry Lee Lucas, right?” I asked, joining him under the streetlight. “I mean, his grand jury proceedings, anyhow. McLennan County. 1986?”

“’85. I didn’t know you knew the case.”

“Yeah, I do. Better than most, probably,” I said. “You know, I was obsessed with it freshman year, just before you and I met. I would spend hours reading transcripts of his interviews and court proceedings and stuff. Whatever I could get my hands on. Couldn’t tell you why.”

Immediately after I said that, I wished I hadn’t. For some reason I felt like I had said too much. It felt like I had confessed to something terrible, even though I hadn’t done anything like that. 

Suddenly anxious, I shifted, trying to judge Russell’s reaction. Strangely, he must have picked up on the same thing I felt that I had, because he didn’t respond right away, and although it was hard to always tell with Russell, it looked almost like he was giving me a funny look. 

“Lucas was an odd killer,” he said finally. “I mean, they all were, obviously. But you know what I mean.”

I held his gaze for a beat before looking away. “What are you doing out here anyway, Russ?”

“I mean, must be the same reason you’re here.”

“To talk about serial killers with Aria in the dark? Not exactly.”

Chapter 16, scene 4, abridged 

“‘I think it was just the hands doing it. I know a lot of the things we did, in human sight, are impossible to believe’.”

I recognized it instantly. “‘It’s the force of the devil’,” I said, finishing the line. “‘Something forced on us that we can’t change’.” 

“It’s funny about Henry Lee Lucas,” Russell said. “He wanted to be a serial killer so god d— badly, while at the same time being so thoroughly convinced that none of it was his fault. He relished it, but he didn’t want any of the credit. The blame.”

“You know, Russ—”

“What do you want me to say?”

Taken aback, I knit my brows. After a beat, I managed, “what?” 

“Tell me what you want me to say,” he said, his tone unreadable. “I’ll repeat it back to you.”

Anger sparked in my stomach. I don’t know why. “Russell—” I started again, but he cut me off again. 

“What do you want to hear?”

I opened my mouth to argue with him, but what came out instead was, “tell me I’m not like him.” Then, after a moment, what I really meant, “tell me I’m not like you.” It was a stupid, childish thing to say, but I meant it, I really did. Russell had a way of doing that to people. 

“Well, you’re like one of us, take your pick which one’s worse.”

Anyone else would’ve decked him right then and there. I should have. I wanted to. “You’re a f—ing jack—.”

He glanced over at me, the hint of a smirk touching at his features. “I was kidding.”

“Were you?” I didn’t wait to hear his response, I didn’t want to know what it was. “It wasn’t f—ing funny.”

[kalypsichor]

It hurts so bad to listen to how do you sleep by John (too many people by Paul likewise, but personally how do you sleep does more damage to my heart) why did they have to abuse their musical talents like that 😭😭😭 (ps I love Lennon–McCartney sm like like McLennan actually but they are both my fave members of the Beatles and I love the thing that is more than just a friendship between them✨)

yeah John’s song is so acidic and biting... definitely hurts to listen to. so much emotion in it

[stupidpianist]

14 november 2018

It’s 16:48 right now and I’m in the music library. Idea for the Mastodon account to track ‘daily movements’ with more accurate timestamping is working well, really simplifies the process and I’m able to get a lot more precision/small details I would’ve neglected to include through that, but I’m feeling like doing today’s liveblog in a more paragraph-oriented format, sans timestamps?? ‘Throwing the timestamps out the window’ today, just feel like writing ‘off the dome’ in a less structured way, though still linear, hope that’s okay with y’all, if not, please feel free to skip today’s liveblog, please, please, come right this way, right this way, right on out of this paragraph and into whatever other thing you’re reading, pay no attention to little old me.

Woke at a semi-reliable time after ‘sleeping aggressively,’ I feel, really ‘hard’ sleep again. Woke with really heavy eyelids, which is unusual for me, usually if I’m tired I’ll just fall right back asleep, or if I know I need to wake up, I’ll feel groggy, but not tired, just ‘out of it.’ NOT TODAY, THOUGH!!! Today I was just all, whoa, it’s actually a struggle to keep my eyes open. Still somehow scrounged up the energy to make my way to the bathroom to brush, made some oatmeal, took a G Fuel ‘to the face,’ stared at my computer in catatonia until I had my meeting with one of my professors who’s helping me with recommendation letters. Oh, I also showered, yeah, that’s important, yes. Morning was spent in a state of complete stupor, entire head felt heavy and ‘anvil-like,’ I think, felt really cloudy.

Was the first actually cold day of the season, I think!! Which was exciting, I’ve been waiting for winter for a long time, if I can say something like that. Feels good to ‘don’ the ‘big puffy white jacket’ for another year. I’ve had that thing for, like, what, five, six years now at least?? Always said that once it finally wears out completely I’m going to get it repaired rather than buy a new one, that thing is staying with me ‘til the bitter end.’ Considered getting Five Hour Energy en route to campus but decided against it, and just walked while listening to Kero Kero Bonito while trying to regain some kind of cognitive ability before the meeting.

I guess as a way of ‘self-therapy’ for my unacceptably groggy state I decided on Knausgaard over Foucault to read while sitting outside the professor’s office, which is my favourite office. I wrote about it in a prose poem thing a while back, let me find it, wait:

‘My professor, Maggie, pinches at papers on her desk, and I notice a stunning array of mugs and thermoses that line this massive wooden table against her back wall. There’s one student in her class who sits in front of me and uses a MacBook Pro with a pink, soft-finish case. Without fail, at some point in every lecture, she’ll open a tab in Chrome, and start playing gigantic, full-screen, thirty-by-sixteen games of Minesweeper with such speed, efficiency, accuracy, that I’m more than blown away. On some days she managed a poker game simultaneously, and still continued to take detailed notes.

As I stand in Maggie’s office, Maggie glances up at me and says a few more things, and I thank her, then turn and leave. The floor is linoleum, and my boots make ridiculous, annoying, squeaky squelches.’

Could do with some severe editing, I feel… No longer feel ‘happy’ that I wrote this in much capacity, except for concept. Wait, let me just do a quick rewrite:

‘I’m noticing this stunning array of mugs and thermoses that line the massive wooden table against my professor Maggie’s back wall. There’s one student in the class who sits in front of me and uses a MacBook Pro with a pink, soft-finish case. Without fail, at some point during the lecture, she’ll open a new tab in Chrome, and start playing gigantic, full-screen, thirty-by-sixteen games of Minesweeper. Sometimes she managed a poker game simultaneously.

I’m standing in front of Maggie’s desk. Maggie glances up at me and says a few more things, and I thank her, then turn, and leave. The floor is linoleum. My boots make ridiculous, annoying, squelching sounds.’

Hm. Still ‘not happy with this,’ but it feels marginally better? I’ll come back to it, don’t want to ‘abandon’ this topic ‘quite yet,’ feel like ‘there’s something there,’ just haven’t really ‘teased it out’ at all.

So yeah, yeah, I met with Maggie, which took a few minutes. She informed me of the next Miltonmas, her annual celebration of Milton’s birthday, and also informs me that he’s turning 410 years old this year. Feel ‘tremendous levels of excitement,’ might ask A if she wants to go? Seems unlikely that she’ll want to for a myriad of reasons but I’m not gonna miss it unless I’m, like, severely ill.

Jesus as I’m writing this I still feel so so so out of it, probably had one too many beers last night for sure. Need to be up really early tomorrow for a work shift, so I can’t be going to bed late tonight, which is sort of, like, a blessing, so even if I wanted to stay up for whatever reason now I can’t.

After the meeting with Maggie, which went well, as they always do, Corrina OH YEAH WAIT, it’s definitely spelled Corrina unless she intentionally misspelled it on her laptop, I SAW HER NAME on her MACBOOK when we played DUNGEON WORLD LAST NIGHT yeah okay so now we know her REAL NAME AAAAAND we know how to SPELL IT yes so CORRINA was all like, ‘who wants poutine’ on the group chat with Michael, Corrina, Jasleen, Astoria, I, and I was all like, ‘yeah i want poutine’ and she was all like ‘okay meet me at the Starbucks in Eaton Centre and I went all ‘yeah okay.’ So my dumb butt walks to Eaton Centre only instead I go into Place Montreal Trust and I wait by the Starbucks, and Corrina goes all, ‘where are you’ and I go all ‘wait holy crap I’m such an idiot hold on I’m in the wrong building’ so I cross the street and Corrina finds me and we get this gigantic plate of poutine.

Sorry to report: did not taste very good. No no, probably, maybe, like, a light four out of ten? Disappointed. Second bad poutine in a row, need to pay Belle Province ‘a little visit’ to remedy the situation, need some good poutine in my stomach before I risk more bad poutine. So we finish the poutine and then decide to get caffeinated, something I really, really needed given my mental state of just complete BLAUGH, so we head to Starbucks and I completely overspend on a peppermint mocha. God those holiday drinks really GET ME, I love them SO MUCH, everything about the holiday season I ADORE. Tinsel, the music, the atmosphere, the ostensible snow, the wreaths, yeah yeah ALL OF IT, gimme, just-- gimme.

Then knew I needed to practice, even in my semi-conscious-but-more-verging-on-unconscious state, so I say bye to Corrina, who heads back to work, and I take the trek to McLennan, where I check out a copy of  Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du mal. There’s an amazing website which features a myriad of English translations of each poem, so I’ll be able to cross-reference all of them whilst trying to keep up with the original French. Feel excited to be ‘getting in on this’ finally, haven’t actively read poetry in a really long time, now that I think about it…

Side note: the computer that I used, or, rather, the section of McLennan in which the computer I used was in smelled like poop. Not even like body odour or anything, like, straight up feces. Was really bad, that’s when I decided I’d just use the computer to see where the Baudelaire book was, and then ‘get the heck out’ and not update the liveblog, would save that for the ‘safety’ of the music library, which I mostly prefer to McLennan anyways.

Is now 17:16. Blasting Igorr through headphones, really don’t want to go practice but know it’ll be good, or, at least, like, mildly fun. Maybe I’ll throw some Schubert under the fingers, or something?? I don’t know, I don’t have many days until I need to record prescreenings, but I’m feeling confident, maybe I’ll take a ‘rest day’ and focus on pieces I don’t need to prepare?? Keep the pieces that I need to record’ fresh’ and not just repeated to hell?

OH OH I know what I’m gonna do. Gonna print out some Thalberg to read. Never get tired of Thalberg. Thalberg, my love. Oh-so-neglected. Hahahahah I’m just spouting nonsense right now, need to leave the computer before my brain further devolves. OKAY onto the PRACTICE ROOMS see you later for the first inaugural ‘Soundtrack of the Day’

20:40: Watching livestream of Megan Boyle reading entirety of Liveblog over ~52 hours without stopping; will not be updating this liveblog any more tonight, please also tune in to the stream, link in Megan’s Twitter

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Robert Forster Interview — February 2003

Sunday Interview! Hey, I’m going to start re-posting some of these old interviews I did back in the day — many aren’t really readily available.Why the hell not! First up, there’s this one I did for Junkmedia with Robert Forster on the eve of Bright Yellow Bright Orange’s release. I remember that the connection between Boston and Australia was not particularly great, but the interview came out OK! Also, Go-Betweens bassist Robert Vickers was the publicist who hooked us up. That was cool. Also, I think I heavily overrated Bright Yellow Bright Orange. It’s good, but I think I’d rate it as the weakest of the Go-Betweens’ reunion records. 

Some things just get better with age. Take the Go-Betweens for example. The band's latest record, Bright Yellow Bright Orange (released last week on Jetset Records), reveals that songwriting prowess of Grant McLennan and Robert Forster remains undimmed, more than two decades after the band made its first tentative recordings. The new album doesn't even remotely sound like the work of a band in its twilight years; rather, it's a potent, ambitious collection of ten shimmering pop gems.

After their somewhat disappointing "reunion" record (2000's The Friends of Rachel Worth, recorded with members of Sleater Kinney and Quasi), the songwriters' collective muse has returned, and the result is some of their best songs in years. The original lineup of the Go-Betweens made some of the finest music of the '80s; on Bright Yellow Bright Orange, Forster and McLennan seem determined to top themselves. A hell of a challenge, to be sure, but they just might be up to it. Forster spoke with Junkmedia from his home in Australia on the eve of the album's release.

So if my calculations are correct, 2003 marks the 25th anniversary of the Go-Betweens. How does it feel to have made it this far?

God, I hadn't really thought of that, but 25 years — uh, good! It feels good. We're especially happy to still be making relevant music.

It being your anniversary and all, have you and Grant gotten each other gifts or anything? What's the 25th anniversary gift supposed to be — silver?

Well, I'm not expecting any gift. I hope Grant isn't! So, no, I don't think so.

How did the two of you meet?

We were studying at the same place, the same university. This would have been in the mid-'70s. We were sort of living off of "Queen and Country", living on campus. And we just became friends.

I'm curious to know what kind of records were making their way down under at that time.

Well that was just around the time when punk was starting up, so we were getting some of the early punk stuff. Also, Dylan's Desire album was a big one, and the first Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers record was issued — that sort of thing was making it down here. And we obviously listened to a lot of '60s stuff — the Velvet Underground, and so forth. A lot of the New York bands of that era were a big influence. Television's first album, the Ramones' first album, I remember quite well. All of that was what Grant and I were listening to in those days.

Was there any one record that really made you think "I want to make something like this!"?

Well, I guess it'd have to be Marquee Moon by Television. That was a real landmark there. It seems like you'd have to spend 20 years studying that to get to where they were on that record. And that record led us to a lot of things -- to the Velvets, to Dylan, to a whole different range of music, really.

How would you characterize your relationship with Grant, in terms of personal dynamics, in terms of songwriting?

Well, it's a friendship. A lot of times, people who work closely in bands aren't friends, but with us that's never been the case. So we've got that going for us. And you know, we're quite similar — a similar age, similar background and all of that. And even though our lives have sort of developed in different ways since we met, we always have a base from which to build off of. So we're similar, but different.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but it always seems to me that — unlike other famous songwriting partnerships — yours is a partnership that's fueled more by mutual respect than by competition. Do you think that's accurate?

Yeah, that's a good point. I do think it's accurate. And the songwriting arrangement we had right at the start has really served us well. Since the second album, we've each had the same amount of songs on each album, and I think that eliminates a lot of problems that other duos might have. And so with that arrangement in place, we're both just trying to make the best records and songs possible. I mean, there is certainly competition to some degree — that's healthy. We're both trying to get the best out of each other, I think.

Listening to your records, however uncompromised they might be, it still sounds like you and Grant, unlike a lot of "cult" bands, were trying to write hit songs. Do you think that's true?

Yeah, I think what we're doing did have and does still have broad appeal. I think of a band like, say, Sonic Youth — they're not really going for any kind of broad appeal, even though a great number of people like them. They're sort of designed to have a cult kind of appeal. But we've always worked within the boundaries of the three-minute or five-minute pop song. A lot of what we do has the possibility of broad appeal. And also, you know, we love pop music. We were brought up on AM radio. We're both AM radio kids.

When the Go-Betweens are brought up in the music press, the adjective "influential" is always coming up. Do you find that to to be accurate — do you ever hear a new band and think, "That really sounds like us!"?

No, to be honest. Not really. I think if we were influential in any way, it was more the way we sort of carried ourselves, and the kind of people we are. And the strange twists and turns of our career might have been influential in some way as well. The music? Maybe a little bit, but I don't hear it in a big way. And I try as much as I can to keep up with the current music scene.

The two of you spent the '90s pursuing other projects — recording solo albums, playing with other bands, and writing with other collaborators. Was that time apart valuable to you as a songwriter?

Oh, enormously. Enormously. For the both of us. I think that's the reason things are happening right now with the Go-Betweens, why we're hungry. We had a break from each other, which was great — and we also got to work with other people. I learned to play the keyboards, which was something I didn't have time for the first time around. And I made a couple albums collaborating with different people. I made one with Edwyn Collins producing called Warm Nights and a covers record called New York Girlfriend. I learned a lot about studios, and all kinds of things, and that was all very valuable.

And that brings us a little more up to date, with Bright Yellow Bright Orange. Grant said in the press materials that this is his favorite Go-Betweens album. I thought that was a pretty bold claim to make at first, but, having listened to it quite a bit in the last few weeks, I'm almost inclined to agree. What do you think?

Well, it's hard to say, really. I like it, and it's getting a really good reaction so far, but, when you start talking about favorites, it's hard to single one out. There are some earlier records that I have great affection for. But Bright Yellow Bright Orange is up there, to be sure.

Is there any one Go-Betweens record that really sums it up for you, where you think you accomplished exactly what you set out to do with it?

Hmmm. Before Hollywood is good. But I still think we're sort of striving for that perfect record — I suppose if we had already made that perfect record, there'd be no reason to go on!

Tell me a little about the band you've got playing with you on Bright Yellow.

Well, we've got Adele Pickvance playing bass and Glen Thompson playing drums and keyboards. Glen played on my second solo album. I met him through some other people and he ended up playing on Warm Nights, and when I was touring behind that record I hooked up with Adele. But it took a while to get that combination together with Grant to do a real Go-Betweens record.

Where was it recorded?

Some of it was in Melbourne, a great studio down in Melbourne called Sing Sing, and some of it was done in Sydney, at Paradise Studios.

Does location play a big part in the "vibe" of an album?

Totally. Totally. Place has always been extremely important in all of our recordings. For us, it's like going on location for a film, really. You know, like if you were in Miami, you can't make a Western down there. And if you want to make, say, a sparkling situation comedy, you can't do that in the backwoods of Tennessee. So where we end up recording — it's all been thought through, we've discussed what the best environment would be for that particular record.

Now, in addition to this new material you've got coming out, Jetset and Circus Records put out your first three records, with bonus discs of unreleased and rare material. Were you involved in that? Was it fun for you to go back and listen to those records?

That was done by the record company, and they put the whole package together, and Grant and I for the most part gave our approval. We removed one or two things we weren't excited about. But I do enjoy listening to those records from time to time, although lately I've been getting back to some of my solo career. That stuff is starting to grow on me a bit.

Are there plans to give the remaining Go-Betweens records a similar treatment?

Yeah, there are plans. That'll probably happen next year. We'll do the rest with bonus material and all of that. There's even a record of early bonus material that didn't make it on to the first set of reissues that'll see the light of day sooner or later. It's kind of "the rarities of the rarities."

The Go-Betweens have always enjoyed a particularly fierce fan base. It might even be bigger now than it was in the '80s. Does it surprise that you after all these years you've still got fans all over the world following the band?

Well, honestly, not entirely. We made good music, and we're hopefully still making good music. And no matter how "popular" something is, if it's good, it's going to have a life, you know?

[harrystormauthor]

ALLAN HOLLOWAY PUBLIC INFORMATION REQUEST

According to TWO sources, yeah, I actually have a few scruples and rules, Allan Holloway was arrested by the Hewitt PD for Domestic Violence. Harry is getting total confirmation from the County and Hewitt PD. That will follow as we get it. H FROM MUCKROCK TO MCLENNAN COUNTY AUDITOR FRANCES BARTLETT Final pay check and date of last working day for Allan Holloway. Dismissals and/or reasons…

[10minutemusings-blog]

21/6/17

Went to an open mic last night. One of the guys there told me I sound like Grant Mclennan from The Go Betweens. I had no idea who that was but smiled and thanked him.

When I got home I checked them out. I dig the comparison, and can kind of see where he’s coming from. It’s acoustic ‘Australiana’ from the 1970s and 80s. Great music underpinned by an exploration of what it is to be Australian. Supposedly their song ‘Cattle and Cane’ is one of Bono’s five favourite songs. It comes from an interesting era of Australian music that I frankly know nothing about. Sure I know Cold Chisel and John Farnham and a little bit of the Midnight Oils. These are all the ‘classic’ Australian bands that have stuck in the Australian psyche in some regard, and most of the country pub gigs we play have people requesting their music. But there’s a whole world out there of big ‘name’ Australian artists who were topping the charts at the time but haven’t necessarily stayed as big name as some of the other acts of the time.

That said, I told my girlfriend and her response was ‘oh yeah, the Go Betweens, great band’. Maybe it’s just me with my weird upbringing. My folks didn’t dose me on classic Australiana because they weren’t really into that music, and I didn’t grow up here.

I feel like there’s a certain sound that’s characteristic of this era of Australian music: Khe Sahn and Friday on My Mind etc all have a certain thing that make them great and make them Australian. What is it? I’m not sure. Are there any current Australian artists who are making music that is distinctly Australian? Could you identify Tame Impala or Angus and Julia Stone or Gotye as distinctly Australian based on just listening to their music? Arguably none of these acts live and exist in Australia any more, they merely return every couple of years to tour and top up their bank accounts (the John Farnham top-up-the-pension tour). How do make a distinctly Australian sound, and get it to resonate across the world? Is that something we should strive for? Or should we just be making good music and not stressing about our cultural identity? Do we really have an Australian identity in what’s become a multi-cultural society (much more than I assume it would have been in the 60s and 70s)…?

[kinkybookklub]

New Post has been published on Kinky Book Klub

New Post on http://www.kinkybookklub.co.uk/new-release-piper-by-k-l-shandwick/

New Release: Piper by K L Shandwick

  We’re delighted to share K.L. Shandwicks all-new rock star spin off novel, PIPER from her incredible Gibson Series. And at the special release price of ONLY #99pennies!

  Series: A Last Score Novel

Genre: Rock Star Romance

Release Date: 30th July, 2018

Cover Design: Francessca’s PR & Designs

Hosted by Francessca’s PR & Designs

Add to Goodreads

    SYNOPSIS

  I know what they think.

They think I’m too innocent for the life I have chosen.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am.

However, sometimes a girl has to follow her instincts even if they may lead to failure. Who knows, the bigger the risk the greater the riches could be.

The facts are, I have a musical gift, a new beginning and an incredible opportunity.

Simon McLennan’s reputation as a taker is a well-known fact.

But I have a secret crush. Is the attraction mutual or am I out of my depth with someone like him?

Living in the shadow of a dark and lonely past it’s my time to shine.

My time to take what I want.

Even if it means risking what’s safe for our few stolen moments.

Oh did I mention, Simon is one of my mentors, a rock star idol and my famous adoptive father’s bandmate.

  PIPER IS LIVE!

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  One-click your copies of Gibson’s Legacy, Trusting Gibson, Gibson’s Melody and Piper for #99pennies each limited time ONLY!

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    Trusting Gibson

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    Piper

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  Early Feedback

This book was worth more than the five stars than we are allowed to give it, from the writing to the storyline to the character development, this book was outstanding and deserves a standing ovation. ~5* Goodreads Review

What an epic love story, of two very different people. ~ 5* Goodreads Review

    EXCERPT

Piper: A Last Score Spin Off © K.L.Shandwick 2018

  Once situated, Simon sat back in his chair, grabbed one of his ribs and took a large hungry chunk out of it. “Mm,” he hummed in an exaggerated sound of enjoyment.The noise immediately made my core pulse, and I stared fascinated as he chewed his first bite. “Oh, God,” he groaned in ecstasy and I squeezed my thighs tightly, together. “Go on, dig in,” he encouraged as he nodded toward the delicious, but messy looking food.My focus was squarely on his cherry-red lips, visibly wet from his tongue, among his full beard and I just about managed to drag my eyes away from them to meet his gaze.

Drawing a deep breath, I swallowed roughly and resigned myself to knowing I’d look like a pig eating in front of him, but the smell from the barbecue sauce was ridiculously inviting.

My dilemma was very real as I shifted my gaze to my plate. My stomach betrayed me when it grumbled in protest as the delicious aroma assaulted my brain. Simon was spot on, they were my favorite food. Of all the times to remember what I liked, why did it have to be now?

The way he was devouring his meal made my mouth water. But I knew there was no way I’d walk away from the table without getting in a filthy state once I began to eat.

With an extraordinary amount of delicacy, I choose the smallest rib—if there is such an act as picking up a pork rib covered in gooey sauce delicately—and hesitated when it was level with my mouth.

Stretching my lips clear of the sauce, I dug my teeth into the pork and took several small nibbles of the succulent meat. “Mm.” An involuntary moan of appreciation crept up from my chest because they tasted delicious and I hummed in appreciation just as he had moments before.

Simon grinned and shook his head. “Fuck,” he muttered, chuckling to himself as his eyes darkened, and I frowned because I felt I’d obviously done something wrong.

I shrugged and said the first thing that came into my head. “Like my mom always said, ‘You can’t say meat without saying Mm’.”

Reaching over toward me, he lifted his hand and swiped his coarse thumb pad across my lips then stuck it in his mouth. When he pulled it out, he licked his lips seductively and another wide grin sent a rod of delight straight between my thighs.

“What did you do that for?” The question was out before I had the chance to think about what I was saying. His unexpected intimate gesture had stolen my breath for a moment and my heart pounded wildly in my chest.

“What?” he asked, looking confused, but I thought I detected a playful tone. He certainly looked amused.

“The thing you just did with your thumb,” I stated because when I’d seen Gibson do that to Chloe it had always looked intimate… like I shouldn’t have been there. I may not have had a lot of personal experience of men, but I’d seen enough romance movies to be sure he’d crossed a line.

He shrugged. “There’s only one thing better than the taste of barbecue sauce from a woman’s lips,” he said, ignoring the liberty he’d taken as he flashed me a cocky smile.

Picking up another rib he dug in like nothing had happened and using his teeth, ripped another large chunk of meat from it.

“But they were my lips,” I replied, sounding utterly confused at where he was going with the conversation. For a few seconds I felt vulnerable, inept, unprepared for the move he had made, and unsure why he would have chosen to do that to me.

Was this how Simon really was? Is this why Gibson argued with him when he paid attention toward me? Up until that point I had never experienced anyone invading my personal space uninvited, outside of Colin’s anger, the way Simon did.

“Exactly,” he said, his eyes dropping to my mouth and suddenly I wasn’t hungry any more. For a second I thought I was mistaken, then wondered if he was joking, then ultimately, I felt out of my depth.

I immediately felt uncomfortable and acted on instinct, challenging his comment.

“It’s not okay for you to screw with my feelings, Simon. I’m here because I thought I could trust you, yet I’m barely inside your house and you think that gives you the right to take liberties with me?”

Simon’s eyes went wide, like I’d shocked him by calling him out. He stopped eating, rib poised mid-air and stared at me, hard.

Holding his gaze, I was determined not to turn away from him because it had taken all of my courage to stand up to him.

Suddenly he threw his rib back onto the plate, the hollow bone clattering noisily and shattering the otherwise silent night air.

Sighing heavily, he looked apologetic and when he spoke it was in his low serious tone.

“Fuck. You’re right. I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. I totally forgot myself with you… and of course you can trust me. I’d never hurt you, Piper.”

“Is this how you treat all women?”

“Only the ones I’m attracted to,” he replied, and I searched his face for a hint he was teasing me. When I saw none, I wasn’t sure what to do with his new disclosure.

Deciding he was joking, I called him out again. “Don’t fuck with my head. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime. I may be young but that doesn’t give you the right to poke fun at me.” Pushing my chair away with the back of my knees I stood up and stared down at him as anger rose inside me.

“After the week I’ve had I’m not in the mood for games, Simon. I lived with the King of Mind Fucks and I don’t appreciate you toying with me like this.

You’re making me feel uncomfortable and frankly I expected more from you. Maybe I should go home?”

“Who says I’m playing games?” he asked throwing his arms wide. “Look, that thing I just did with my thumb? What can I say? It was completely spontaneous. I forgot who you were for a second.”

I huffed out a breath. “Yeah? So, mistaking me for one of your groupies is supposed to make me feel less offended?” I snapped. Anger replaced the awkwardness of the situation.

Simon leaned over and plucked several small white napkins from a silver dispenser on the table. Silently he wiped each of his fingers one by one.

My eyes followed his hands until he’d finished, then looked back up into his. He shrugged then smoothed his closely groomed beard as he considered my question.

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighed flatly, all hint of humor gone from his voice. Glancing up at me he sighed, and I inhaled a deep breath as I tried to remain calm.

Meet the Author

  Writing came relatively later in life for K.L. Shandwick after a challenge by a friend led to The Everything Trilogy. She loves creating new characters and storylines. Her characters have flaws and she hopes this helps the connection between them and her readers. She enjoys the journeys the characters take her on during the creation of her stories and each character has his or her own voice. She doesn’t use prepared outlines for her stories preferring the characters to take their own direction as the story progresses. These days K.L. lives in the Yorkshire countryside and writes full-time.

  K.L. Shandwick would love to hear from you! Connect with her here:

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[stupidpianist]

9 october 2018

18:06: It’s 18:06 while I’m starting this post and I’m, like, “therapeutically” listening to Glenn Gould perform Chopin’s third sonata over my speakers, and I have this apples and cinnamon candle going to my right. My brain is saying, “burn, baby, burn, yeah, that’s right,” at the candle, I think.

Deciding to do this through mutual “peer pressure” I’m getting from continuously reading Knausgaard’s My Struggle for the last several years, and more recently from Megan Boyle’s just-published Liveblog, which I’m now, like, fifty-one pages in, feeling increasingly obsessed with each subsequent page (i mean like the books are peer pressuring me i don’t mean like ppl are, attacking me, or something, for not doing this). I’m gonna quote the start of her liveblogging experiment:

“Starting today, march 17, 2013, i will be liveblogging everything i do, think, feel, and say, to the best of my ability. right now there is no one i talk to frequently enough to effect by my failure to follow through with tasks i said i’d do. the only person ‘keeping tabs’ on my life is me. as time has been passing, i have been feeling an equally uncontrollable sensation of my life not belonging to me or something. like it’s just this event i don’t seem to be participating in much, and so could be attending by mistake. maybe i wasn’t invited. clerical error. i witness myself willfully allowing opportunities to fade away, because sometimes, for whatever reason, it is hard for me to do things that i know will make me happy.

i can’t control getting older but i can control what i do as i age. also, i feel like my memory is deteriorating. i used to like documenting my daily activities. that seemed to help me remember more. lately the things i’ve been doing haven’t felt worth remembering, but i feel like that could just be a mind trick, and if i start writing more again, i’ll convince myself everything is basically the same as however many years ago it was when i felt more satisfied or hopeful or whatever it is i don’t feel now.

**THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE INTERESTING** **I AM NOT GOING TO TRY TO MAKE THIS SOUND INTERESTING OR TRY TO MAKE YOU LIKE ME OR THINK ABOUT IF YOU ARE READING THIS OR ENJOYING READING THIS, IT’S JUST GOING TO BE WHAT IT IS: A FUNCTIONAL THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY HELP ME FEEL MORE LIKE IMPROVING MYSELF**”

Feel strongly that this, p. wholly, encompasses why I’m gonna try doing this again, too. Previously “in my life” I used to make, like, daily videos, or “vlog”-type things, and for another period, I wrote one short story a day, and for another period, I wrote, like, a letter-a-day to the general public describing what I did that day, and during each of these periods, I think I felt my general productivity, motivation, mood, well being, increase notably.

Also feel strongly that I won’t be able to, nearly as accurately, follow my day minute-by-minute as Megan did, will probably revert to something I write at the end of each day, or something, I’m not sure yet, or, like, maybe smaller posts as the day goes on? I don’t know give me a couple of days to figure it out please, I really don’t, I’m not sure.

Feel excited by this, feeling like, “yeah, this is a good thing to do, yeah, yeah, you do this, George, just ‘give it a shot,’ ‘go for it,’ ‘you got this.’”

18:22: Just got a text from my mom that said “the big pile is beans! Silly” in response to my replying “too spicy!” to a photograph she sent me, of a mound of flat beans, and a couple of cayenne peppers next to them. I just replied, “I meant the big red peppers.” I’m grinning a lot.

(earlier today) 09:00: Woke this morning to the sound of workers on the floor above mine still renovating apartments. They do this aggressive, rhythmic hammering, which then stops for a few seconds, then resumes for a seconds, then stops for a few seconds, then resumes again. Made it extremely hard to “sleep in,” which I wasn’t even planning on doing, but after cancelling all of my alarms, I sort of just drifted in-and-out of sleep in a weird numb stupor. 

12:00: Eventually got out of bed, feeling semi-disgusted at myself.

Decided to go with a “classic” outfit today, something from my youth, something from years past, something timeless. Chose brown pants with repeated cartoon raccoon pattern on it, grey long-sleeve shirt, “Don’t Give Up. Never Give Up.” black hoodie. 

13:00: Felt “mild amazement” that I was “somehow, already” dressed, in a vaguely positive way.

I was like, “yes, yes, yes, keep riding out this positive emotion,” and made a “G Fuel” energy shake. Strawberry shortcake flavour. Highly recommend. Chugged smoothie while idly watching YouTube videos of tech topics. Had a moment where I was like, “oh crap, dude, you’ve only got, like, five hours of productivity left in the day, you gotta leave, get out of your apartment dude, leave, leave now,” and then, sort-of panicking, grabbed backpack, headphones, iPod, put on shoes, ran out of apartment to McLennan library.

13:16: Yeesh it was so warm today, like, what happened? We gonna get autumn or what, huh? You too chicken to “bring on the cold”? Got to the library, sweating like a disgusting piggie. Chose a computer in the Cybertheque area, couldn’t sit next to the windows where I usually like to sit to squirrel and people watch out my peripherals. I was all, “man you’re gonna get so much done, you’re gonna get all that goodass studying done aren’t you, you’re gonna breeze through these readings,” and then NOPE nada that is not what happened at all. I just pulled up Spotify and played Grouper and then read more of Megan’s Liveblog for like three straight hours, with “intense focus,” I felt, like, “undeviating focus,” like, “laser-like focus,” like, “hawk-like attention to detail.” Felt mildly insane, like, I absolutely could not believe how engrossed in the book I was.

I WASN’T ALL UNPRODUCTIVE look here me out please, you have to at least be on my side a LITTLE: okay here’s the productive things I did okay:

-checked electricity/hydro bill

-checked when midterms were

-checked work schedule for the week

Look I know I know it’s not a lot but please just shut up for like two seconds gosh

A strange thing that started happening—even though my mood started, like, at 7.5/10 when I got to the library, after three hours it dropped, like, severely. Like a lot, I have no idea why, just the natural curve of the day I guess but like by 17:00 I was at a 3/10 if that and was like, “I gotta get out of here, get out of here, yo, hey, stand up, walk outside, get some of that ‘sweet, sweet’ sunlight before the sun disappears for another twelve or thirteen hours, go, log out of the computer, move your butt, move faster, go go go go” and then the “go”s continued faster and faster until I was outside, and, like, dancing a bit to the album I was playing (Prequelle, by Ghost. Been listening to a lot of Ghost recently. Been really “Ghost”ing it up, if you smell what I’m cookin’.)

Then while walking I was like, “alright, okay, it’s ‘time,’ when you get home, just start writing, just ‘do it,’ it doesn’t matter if you have nothing to say, you’ll thank yourself later,” and alsoo another part of my brain was going “start yoga, you promised [your best friend] Alli you’d start yoga, you even told me you wanted to start yoga, why haven’t you started it yet????”

18:40: Earnestly feeling a lot better, yeah, yeah, I am!! I’m gonna finish this post for today but wow that actually helped a lot. I know that Megan’s liveblog experiment ended up having net-detrimental effects on her life, we’ll have to see “how this goes.” Also unfair to compare each experiment as hers was minute-by-minute, and mine is like totally not minute-by-minute to such a significant degree that the data sets can’t be cross-referenced, I feel? I don’t know.

Do any of u ppl have a yoga mat you are looking to sell or could let me borrow? My apartment floor is linoleum and almost as uncomfortable as it is unpleasant to look at. I have, like, this rug from Ikea, but it’s not really in a good position for “yoga-like purposes,” nor is it especially padded, or furry, or like, whatever, you know what I’m trying to say. Gonna use it for now and just “see how it goes,” maybe it’ll actually be just fine? Gosh I don’t even know, feel so unsure about everything. Feeling hopeful, though, feeling “very hopeful,” this was a lot of fun, yeah, yes; gonna try and put in more detail tomorrow, with more timestamps “for accuracy,” or something. Feel strongly that this will be possible, will be bringing around a notebook to “log things in” now that htis project has started, yeah, uh-huh, mhmm, yes yes yes

[patrickbroaddus]

Winds in the Desert

For many of you, these past weeks and months have been a mystery as Courtney and I have attempted to settle into a new life back in Waco.

That is not by accident.

I have been hesitant to share about what has been going on in my life recently because, quite frankly, very little has been happening. 

And that’s been the problem.

11 months ago, I resigned as pastor of a wonderful church in North Carolina, believing strongly in God’s leading to return home to Texas and to follow an amazing opportunity that had landed at my wife’s feet.

When this happened, little did I know that we were preparing to plunge headlong into one of the hardest years of our lives.  I had no worries about what life in Texas would look like.  We would be surrounded by the people we had missed the most over the past 4 years of living halfway across the country.  I would soon find a new job either in one of the 150+ Baptist churches in McLennan county alone(!) or somewhere like Baylor.  And we would endure only a brief respite living with my in-laws while we transitioned into a new home for our family.

Well, so much for that.

It has been 11 months.  I’m still job hunting and we still live with my in-laws (though that is hopefully about to change as we are preparing to close on our new house at the beginning of June...fingers crossed!!!).  And though we are surrounded by those we love most, we have felt more alone and isolated than we have ever felt.

I cannot tell you how hard I had to swallow to write those last words...

To confess them publicly when we have spent most of the last year avoiding talking about it...

Folks, this last year has been hard.  It has easily been the hardest my family and I have had to go through together.  

Searching for a job while being greeted by silence and closed doors...

Wondering when we would be able to have our own space again (though may I just say how amazing my in-laws have been through this whole thing?  I couldn’t ask for a better, more understanding, or supportive family.  Thanks for everything Craig and Christi!!!)...

There have been many tears, even more questions, and quite a few late night runs to Starbucks in an effort to get away from it all while attempting to solve why we kept striking out at life.

It’s been hard.  Have I mentioned that yet?

As if life hasn't been hard enough, we have also experienced what so many have experienced in times like these: an overwhelming sense that God is either not listening or has just disappeared all together. 

We have endured the proverbial desert in our faith, struggling with what it looks like to trust in God when life has stopped giving to you and has begun to strip away all you have always taken for granted. (If that last sentence didn’t sound like a spoiled middle class kid from the city I don’t know what would...truth hurts).

Deserts are hard not because they are hot or dry or sandy (though honestly, have you ever been to the beach?  If so I’m sure you’re still finding sand in places you never thought possible no matter how long ago your trip was).

No, deserts are hard because they are barren.

Devoid of resources.

Devoid of necessities.

Devoid of life.

And that’s what it has felt like these last few months, like we’ve been walking through a life lacking in resources, necessities, and true meaning.

And so we pray to God, asking him to fix these things, right?

And when the answers don’t come quickly enough we pray to God and complain.

Then we complain a little louder.

Then we start the shouting.

Then we give God the silent treatment.

And when that doesn’t work we start the whole vicious cycle all over again.

Which is why this morning as I was reading a passage out of the Wilderness Wanderings in the book of Numbers, I had this strange realization that I have been wandering in the same wilderness as the Israelites all those years ago.

No, not the same physical wilderness.

But rather the same wilderness of the soul.

Which is a problem.

Why?

Well, have you ever read the story of the Israelites in the desert?

Yeah, it’s not easy and it is a constant struggle against the elements.

But...

Do they ever seem to lack in anything they really need?

I mean, even when they feel they do, what does God do?  He gives them manna.  He gives them quail.  He gives them water.  He gives and he gives and he gives...

And what do the Israelites do in return?

They gripe and ask for more...

In spite of the fact that God continues to be an incredibly tangible presence with them the whole time.

Cloud by day.  Fire by night.  Voice on the mountain.  You name it, God shows himself in some amazing ways during those wanderings.

And yet...gripe, gripe, gripe, gripe, gripe...you get the point.

Do you want to know the truth?

I’ve been the same way.

God has been present with me these past months even when he has not seemingly provided in the ways I’ve wanted.  I may want a job or a new home or so many other things.

But I’ve always had what I’ve needed.  Roof over my head.  Food on my plate.  Clothes on my back.  And God’s continued presence with me.

How spoiled am I when that’s not enough?

But no more.

This morning I chose to sense a different wind blowing across the sands of this barren time...it is the wind of God’s ever present Spirit blowing through my dusty, sand filled soul.  

And it has been there all along.

[itsworn]

Hot Rod Builder Roy Brizio Tells Us How to Build For 40 Years

In a Rolling Stone article a few years ago, seminal guitar player Jeff Beck said he almost quit playing guitar to go to work building hot rods at Roy Brizio’s South San Francisco shop. There is almost a cult to the building of cars from Roy Brizio Street Rods. Roy’s been one of the most prolific builders of hot rods ever. In the 40 years he has been in the building business, he’s become the king of the 1932 Ford, but he’s built a lot more than just Deuces. His upbringing with father, Andy, a central figure in the Bay Area’s drag-racing culture, gave young Roy ample time and plenty of examples to educate him in the intricacies of building cars from scratch. With Fremont Drag Strip being where nostalgia drag racing came to be in the early 1980s, it was a perfect time to be Roy and to be building cars in close proximity to the action, which accelerated his prominence and building chops. Since then his output of hot rods has increased, no doubt aided from the publicity around building multiple cars for the likes of Eric Clapton and Neil Young, and he’s had the distinction of winning the Grand National Roadster Show twice. We wanted to find out what the magic was and what it takes to build hot rods for so long, for so many, with such a flourish to each one built.

HRM] Did you think you would be building cars this long?

RB] I didn’t think I could last this long. I really thought that since all of my friends were going to college and getting real jobs that if I could just do this for five years, then I’d go get a real job. But I never would have dreamed I’d be doing this when I was 60.

HRM] What’s a real job?

RB] One that normal people have. I’ve never been normal. I grew up in an abnormal family. We didn’t do what other people did—we went on road trips in hot rods and spent weekends at swap meets, car shows, and drag races. It was all good and fun, and I was a lucky kid to get to do that stuff and am happy I was interested in what my dad was doing. My dad never had to make me do this stuff. I enjoyed doing it and enjoyed his friends, and they spoiled me and stuck me in their Top Fuel dragsters. I’d go to car shows and sit in Ed Roth’s hot rods and George Barris’s cars. I guess because I was a kid that liked cars they took a liking to me.

HRM] What did you think you wanted to do for a living as a kid?

RB] I wanted to be a Top Fuel driver. Most of my early childhood was at the drag races because my dad was the starter at Half Moon Bay Dragstrip and he was really good friends with Jim McLennan, who owned Champion Speed Shop. He always had a dragster, and we were always around drag racing. He and Ted Gotelli had a Top Fuel dragster, so on the weekends we always went to the drag races—every Sunday was either Fremont or Half Moon Bay for probably 8 to 10 years of my life. I thought I wanted to be Don Garlits, Prudhomme, Ivo, all of those guys. Then I got older and got a chance to really sit in a nostalgia dragster. When Prufer and Burnett started nostalgia drag racing, we got involved in it and we built the Champion Speed Shop replica dragster, and old friend Louie Poole had an old dragster we ran, and it scared the hell out of me. Once I got strapped in and the engine fired up and I couldn’t see around the blower, I knew right then that it was not for me. I was never going to be a dragster guy, but it sounded cool.

HRM] How many employees do you have now?

RB] We have 10 employees now, and me makes 11. We’ve had as many as 15, but 10 seems to work well for us right now.

HRM] How many cars would you guess have come out of your shop?

RB] We always have at least 20 projects going—always. I’m sure that someday that number will go down, but we’ve had at least 20 for over 20 years.

HRM] How many cars have come out of you shop over the years?

RB] I’d say 300, but I say that every year, so I don’t know. We are averaging 10 cars a year, and we have been doing that for a long time. September 2017 will be my 40th anniversary in business. Those early years we weren’t cranking out as many cars, but the last 20 years we have been on a roll. Over 200 cars in the last 20 years for sure.

HRM] What’s the secret to being in the business of building hot rods for 40 years?

RB] Me loving what I do, but also being blessed with a lot of great people that give me the opportunity to service them. Also a lot of our customers are repeat customers. I’ve done 10 cars for the Edelbrocks, and we’re doing the 11th car for Eric Clapton. We’ve done 10 for John Mumford, too. I always take care of the customers, not because I think they’ll be coming back, but just to make sure they are taken care of for the one I do for them. Our philosophy for building cars has helped—I never want to go too far out. I have a niche market for building the kind of cars these people want. It looks good, sits right, and you can get in it and drive it. For me, this is what works. I didn’t plan on it happening that way, but that’s how it has worked. I’m not the guy to do a Ridler car or go after the Roadster Show every year. We’re the guys you come to if you want a hot rod you can get in and drive and still put on the floor of the Grand National Roadster Show [GNRS] and be proud of. We won the GNRS twice, and the first time was back when I thought it was important for me to do and it was a dream for me to win. We didn’t win the first time. We came to the show and we didn’t deserve to win. We lost in 1986 to Don Thelan. We redid the car and came back in 1987, and I think we deserved to win. We tried a couple more times over the years. These customers wanted to, but I told them I’d do the cars if they promised they wouldn’t have a problem if they lost. If they had a problem with losing, then I was not their guy. We did it for some nice people and didn’t win, but we did win with John Mumford’s track roadster in 2013. That was a lot of fun, and I was really proud of the guys involved in that build. Steve Davis had so much to do with it—that was his project we took over 25 years later and got to finish. I was so happy the car finally got done and that Steve was such a big part of it.

HRM] Why do you attract the Eric Claptons, Jeff Becks, and Neil Youngs?

RB] Well, Jeff has been a family friend for a long time. He came into my dad’s shop and bought a T-bucket chassis in 1972, took it home, and then we lost contact with him. When I opened my shop in 1977, he reappeared again and we became really dear friends and I still do stuff for him. I just built him another 1932 chassis. Eric Clapton came along through Jimmy Vaughn, who I have been a friend with for years, and he was a friend with Eric and so Eric…

HRM] But this is how it happened; I want to know why it happens?

RB] Eric didn’t know who I was. He came to me because he trusted Jimmy.

HRM] But Jimmy has never had you build a car for him.

RB] No, but we’ve been dear friends, and once we started building them for Eric, he felt comfortable with me and so it continues. Now Neil Young, that was different yet. I was always a fan of his, and my sister and I always listened to his music, and she told me some day he was going to come into my shop. I told her he never would because he doesn’t like hot rods. He’s into original cars. Then one day he broke down about two blocks from my shop. He was doing a video just down the street, and when his car broke down they told him there was an old car shop on the corner. He just walked into my shop with his 1957 Cadillac, and that’s how it started. He had no clue who I was. He never heard of me and didn’t know anything about me. That was nine years ago. We service and take care of cars for him and he’s become a good friend, too. When I called my sister and said she wouldn’t believe who walked into my shop, she said, “Neil Young!” Deb said, “I told you he would some day.”

HRM] If you weren’t building cars, what would you be doing?

RB] I’d be begging for a job at HOT ROD Magazine, but I can’t read or write. Honestly, I don’t think I had a chance to do anything other than cars because they were there, so I never thought of doing anything else. I grew up working in a speed shop—Andy’s Instant Ts and then Champion Speed Shop—so when I say I don’t think we were ever normal, we were as normal as you could be if you grew up around a dragstrip and a hot rod shop.

HRM] What’s been the most difficult project to come out of your shop?

RB] We did that 1937 Cord last year that HOT ROD did a story about, and it was probably the most difficult car we’ve done. The owner was a customer of ours; we had built two other cars for him. He asked me to do the car for him. He was adamant about having a front-wheel-drive, independent-suspension 1937 Cord like they all were, but with a late-model drivetrain. It was such a huge project and I was so busy at the time I told him I couldn’t do it. He was OK with that and took it to another shop. There was a problem and it never got finished. We stayed in touch, and when I asked him once how the Cord was going, he told me he stopped the project. Then he asked me if I would again do it for him. I told him I’d get the car back for him and think about it. It sat in my container for a year. Finally, I went to one of my guys and told him it would be overwhelming for me to run the shop and do this car, but if he would head the project we’ll do it. He was excited about it, and the owner was excited, but it was a huge project and it took us over two years to do it.

HRM] How about Neil Young’s electric 1958 Lincoln, the “LinkVolt”?

RB] Yeah, that was big, but we were not involved in the electronics, which was done at AVL in L.A. They do work for the OEs. The electronics were out of our deal, but yes, this was a big project because it’s hard to see the end. When a guy comes in and says he wants a 1932 Ford roadster, I know the end will be a year from now. We schedule it like we do with each car; we do the chassis and it goes off to the body shop, and when it comes back, we reassemble it and then it is off to Sid Chavers for upholstery, and that’s what we do every day. They are all done on a schedule—all scheduled a year in advance. I make all of my upholstery dates with Sid in November for the following year. I know what I’m building this year, and that’s how we get cars done. When somebody asks me how I get these cars done and how I get shops to work for me, I tell them I pay them, I don’t grind, we all work together. I’m fortunate to have some great body and paint guys to work with; I’ve got a great upholsterer that comes through for me all of the time, but we are on a schedule. They know when they are getting a car, and they do them in the time allotted. We’ve got that formula down, and that’s how we get them done.

HRM] What about a car that looks great when you get it and then you strip it and it’s junk?

RB] When we get a car that’s a Brookville body, we know what we are getting, but if it’s a car that we are not sure about, then it’s not on a schedule. As it get’s closer and I can see what it will take to make it right, then I will schedule it and it goes into our normal scheduling procedure. We strip the original cars early enough that we know where we will be, even if they are a lot worse than we expected.

HRM] Who did you learn the most from professionally?

RB] I was a lucky kid growing up in my dad’s shop and picking up stuff from the guys in his shop. Denny Craig taught me how to tig-weld at my dad’s shop. Partly, I was a pain in the ass because I was asking a lot of questions, so they either loved me or hated me, depending if I was a pain in the ass or not. Lil’ John Buttera was a huge influence in later years and Pete Chapouris helped with business stuff when I would call him. We did a lot of stuff with Pete and Jake’s parts, and still do to this day. I’d go to Dick Magoo and Boyd Coddington, and they would tell me anything because we always got along. I think that Magoo built some of the greatest hot rods ever, and now that I look back at all of the cars he built, I don’t know if he always got credit enough for some of the cool stuff he did. He had a great eye. Those Model A roadsters he did that he dropped the hoods on and the first 1932 Ford he built that I really liked, I’d look at it and couldn’t figure out why it looked so good. Then I found he lowered the hood line, and I borrowed that from then on. I learned to detail my cars from him, too. I’d detail my engines with a spray can or brushing them, and then I looked at Magoo’s engines and the detail. He’d paint the fins on the valve covers, and like the oil pressure sensor—he’d detail those things. He detailed cars so nice, and I knew I needed to make my cars look nicer. I’d never steal from them, but I’d ask questions and they would share with me. I used to spend summers at Dan Woods’ shop in Paramount [California] and he taught me how to arc-weld—he didn’t have a tig-welder, that’s all that he had. This is back when Jake Jacobs and Dan were partners. Grinding things and cutting out parts, that’s what I did. I used to sit in Lil’ John’s garage and just watch him work, and I was so proud to show him stuff I had done, and you didn’t get very many “atta-boys” from John. When I wanted him to see my cars he’d ask, “Did you do the best that you can,” and then I would question myself. He’d always say to do the best that you can and keep doing it. He looked at things differently than everybody else, and he took hot rodding to a different level. Whether you went the billet route or not, everybody stepped up their game and made their cars nicer because of him. No more square edges—they rounded edges off and finessed their cars to be nicer. There was more than one guy, but John, Magoo, and Pete Chapouris were probably the three guys I looked at the most. Pete for simplicity for sure, and that’s how I wanted my cars to be so you could work on them if you broke down—not too sophisticated because, to this day, I want my customers to drive their cars. And hopefully if there is a problem they can fix it or at least get it fixed on the road, instead of having to ship it home in a container because it was too exotic for anyone to fix.

HRM] What do you recommend to a young builder thinking about building cars professionally?

RB] If you have your heart set on it and you’re still young enough, then do what makes you feel good. You’re young enough that if it doesn’t work out you can still get a real job. I look at Billy Ganahl, he started at my shop sweeping the floors, and he’s become one of the most talented guys doing this today. He learned from my guys. I used to tell him to pay attention to what we are all doing. You don’t have to agree with what we are doing, but learn from these guys. I told him not to go into it thinking he knew how to do everything. Go in thinking you love what you are doing and you don’t know how to do anything and you want to learn from them, because all of my guys would show him anything he wanted to know, but if you tell them you know it all, they won’t show you shit. So if you’re a young guy, if you show your enthusiasm, you can go to any of the builders today and ask them for advice and they will tell you to call them, email them, or come back tomorrow when the show’s more quiet and I’ll talk with you. I believe all of the builders out there want to see this continue on and want to help young guys. HOT ROD has gone through many things that have kept people interested, and hot rodding will always be hot rodding because it doesn’t matter what you’re hot rodding—if you’re modifying it, you’re hot rodding it. There’s times I’ve looked at a car and thought it wasn’t a hot rod, but if it’s modified, then it’s a hot rod to the guy that built it. If it’s a Toyota and the guy wants to change the wheels and lower it and put a turbo on it, then it’s a hot rod. What they’re doing with fuel injection and electronics today, the cars are going faster than they’ve ever gone. If you’re a hard worker and can show your employer you are, then you’ll always have a job somewhere building cars. Go for it.

Five Things About Roy Brizio

His shop, Roy Brizio Street Rods, is celebrating its 40th anniversary this year.

He’s the only boy in a family of six children.

His father, Andy, was the starter at Half Moon Bay Drag Strip in the 1950s.

The Jeff Beck song “Roy’s Toy” is a tribute to his friend, Roy Brizio.

Roy’s shop has built more than 300 hot rods over the 40 years he’s been in business.

The post Hot Rod Builder Roy Brizio Tells Us How to Build For 40 Years appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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LETTER TO GRAND JURY AND COUNTY OFFICIALS PROOF OF PARNELL COMMITTING CRIMES AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF THIS COUNTY

Let me know if you boys have any more questions, oh, yeah, I’m just crazy, right? xoxo Dear Josh Tetens, John Gimble, County Judge Felton, Ben Perry, Jim Smith, Will Jones, and the Foreperson of the McLennan County Grand Jury. This is an Addendum to my recent Grand Jury letter, since writing it, three weeks back, while waiting for Mr. Tetens to show it to you we have uncovered new evidence by…