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Dorian's, Plaza Cachanilla, Mexicali, Baja California, Mexico [late 80s or early 90s]
This photo might look like cgi, but it's not. It was actually just shot kind of weird 😅.
Source: Stores of the Year 6 by Martin M Pegler [1991]
Jeff Parker & The New Breed Live Preview: 3/8 & 3/9, Dorian’s, Chicago
BY JORDAN MAINZER
It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.
First and foremost, Parker’s guitar is the bridge between entities: Ruby’s verses on “Build a Nest”, or the harmonic ambiance of the second half of “Fusion Swirl” and the woozy atmospherics of his interpretation of Coltrane’s “After the Rain”. It’s also distinctly and deceivingly limber even when gentle, on the creeping “3 for L” and 10-minute closer “Max Brown”. Also evident is Parker’s hip hop-influenced stylings, from the Dilla-esque chopped vocal samples of “C’mon Now” to the hand clap beat of “Max Brown”. This isn’t to say the guests have no fun--“Metamorphoses” is filled with Steve Reich-like harmonics, while “Gnarciss” (an interpretation of Joe Henderson’s spacey classic “Black Narcissus”) sports buoyant horns and percussion alongside its groove, giving stability to the off-kilter tones of the warbling keys. But Suite for Max Brown represents a new level for Parker as producer, curator, and leader.
Suite for Max Brown by Jeff Parker
Parker plays two shows tonight and tomorrow, 8 P.M. and 11 P.M. shows.
all multiples of two!!! 💟💟💟
dorian and i (twyla) are answering
A Post From Health & Supplement
New Post has been published on http://3bestfishoilsupplement.com/heather-killough-walden-the-third-kiss-dorians-dream/
The Third Kiss: Dorian’s Dream Third time’s the charm. In the steamy aftermath of a Baton Rouge day, in the depths of a king’s luxurious mansion, a man with blue eyes dreams of a woman…. Emma Rose Nekoda is a girl with a painful past who relies on the love of her last living rel...
After a year or two, ten or twenty, even an eternity or two later and nothing had changed.
Well, Alastair's little games had changed.
The demon had taken John's face so many time that it'd never worked the same again.
After Lucifer's little speech, the angel had been less reactive. He still refused Alastair’s proposition to take up the knife himself, refused to talk or acknowledge any of the demon’s tricks.. He just screamed. Screamed until his vessel's voice break, until his true voice break.
His body had been torn apart, so many times. His grace had been riped so many times, he'd lost count.
The only thing Samael wanted was to die before John could find a way to come here.
Sometimes he would whisper prayers for hours.
“Please Father, kill me before he knows what has happened. Before he finds out where I am. Before he comes here.”
But his Father never answered.
Sometimes he did his best to make Alastair fly off the handle, hoping he would finaly kill him. But Alastair just laughed and whispered.
“No no no little angel. You have to live.”
Samael wondered sometimes how his vessel could contain so much blood. He had bled gallons.Though he couldn’t have had a single drop left in his body he could taste the bitter sting of it in his mouth every time Alastair buried his hands in the angel’s entrails.
And he kept praying, in silence. Praying for his human to be saved, praying to fall into sleep and never wake up again.
He had created a little place in his head. Somewhere safe, somewhere he could go when Alastair was away. In this place, John was safe, John wasn't a seal. In this place, Heaven wasn't broken, angels weren't fighting and there was no Alastair.
------------------
This day, Alastair came to him with no tools. That fact in itself was way more omnious than when he had his scalpels and tongues.
“Hello hello sunshine. How are you today? Sorry, I've been soooo busy lately. I've neglected you.”
He sucked a breath through his teeth, coming close to the angel, his hand grabbing his jaw.
“But I'm back for you angel. We're going to have fun today, believe me. There is this thing I've always wanted to do.”
Samael gave him a blank look, his head too heavy to think, his eyes too burned by tears to see properly.
He caught a sight of the demon moving around him, he felt the rack shaking and clanking a bit under Alastair's hands.
After a moment, Samael was hanging, his wrists still screwed on the rack.
He yelled with all his voice and all his pain.
The demon broke one of his four wings. Oh no... No Father not this... Please.
He saw a feather falling in front of his face and the pain again. And again and again. Alastair was pulling out his feathers one by one.
Samael was horrified. A demon was plucking him. One feather after another. It was the most blasphemous thing he had ever felt, he had ever seen. It was so painfull.
Alastair began to sing softly, breaking Samael’s bones one by one.
“One little angel all dressed in white Trying to get to Heaven In the end of a kite. But the kite sting broke, and down he fell. Instead of going to Heaven he went down to Hell.”
And again, and again, and again. This song echoed in his ears along with the crack under his wings under the demon's hands. It was wrong, it was the worst kind of humiliation, the worst kind of blasphemy. It hurt so much.
For the first time since he had been there, after a few hours, Samael passed out, his mind violently rejecting what was happening.
“John... Are you sure?”
“No Midnite, I'm not. But I have to. So please, be quick okay?”
The black guy turned his glance toward the guy in his trench-coat.
“And you're gonna let him do this?”
“We have to. I'm going with him.”
Once again, John was sitting on a chair in Midnite’s basement. The chair.
“You both know it's gonna be close to a NDE. John may just die and never come back.”
Castiel looked at the magician. His blue eyes were determined.
“That will not happen. I'm here. I'm going to follow him. And when we come back everything is going to be fine. I promise.”
“Come on Midnite, it's faster like this. Mister poker face here says it'll be easier to “ride my soul as it takes the dive” than find a door. So do it!”
Midnite sighed softly and came closer, a syringe carefully held in his fingers.
“If you say so.”
He crouched in front of John, tightly strapped to the chair and looked up at Castiel.
“So... Real angel hm? I guess you can honor your words. Bring John back okay.”
Castiel simply nodded and putt a hand on John's shoulder.
“I'll bring them back. I promise you Midnite.”
As the needle slid into John's arm a slow fire spread through his veins, his head became dizzy, his body heavy. He heard a flutter. Just like 'Mael's.
When he opened his eyes again, he was deep down into the Pit, an angel by his side.Castiel was terrified, his bright blue eyes sweeping the ruin of Hell around him though he tried to stand upright with purpose.
“Come on Cas, let's go to find Samael. We don't have much time.”
Dorian, te amo.
Hoy y siempre.
