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lord-explosion-baku · 6 years

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Like Ghosts In Snow (Ch. 2)

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire au, villain au

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence

A/N: I had written 90% of this before I started requests and figured I’d finish it before continuing. I’ll get on to do more requests Thursday at the latest! Deku is here! I’m stoked.

Chapter 2: Ambrosia

You sat on the passenger seat of Bakugou’s Oldsmobile and listened to his shitty gangster rap music. Eijirou moved around in the back seat from window to window allowing his head to pop out to catch the cool salty pacific air, occasionally popping his head over your seat to give kisses and sniffs.

Bakugou parked the car on the side of the road. You knew immediately by looking around that this was a college town. Kids around your age walked in groups up and down the street, shopping, finding hot spots, looking for places to get a drink or go to dinner. They skipped and cheered and laughed with one another. You felt a twinge if jealousy watching other kids having fun with their friends.

“The comic book store a couple blocks away so we’re gonna have to walk,” Bakugou said letting Eijirou our of the car. Eijirou sat on the sidewalk waiting patiently for the two of you to start walking. A good boy.

Before you got out of the car, you bent down to tie your shoe. Bakugou opened your door for you. You looked up at him surprised. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you said slightly slurring the word ‘chivalry.’

“Hurry the fuck up.” Woah there, partner.

You slid down your seat and out of the car and walked fast paced towards the sidewalk however you managed to trip over your own leg and nearly fell into the road.

It was like you were frozen in air. You started at the street but your face never met it. At that same moment a 1967 black mustang sped down the road. The would’ve hit me, you thought yourself.

Bakugou pulled you onto the sidewalk. He had caught you by your hand just in time. “It would be really nice,” he growled at you, “if we could make it to this damn comic book store without you getting yourself fucking killed.”

You blinked at him. He had saved you by he was still so mean. You looked into his glowering red eyes. He did look a bit concerned. Still he was being so rude to you, and why?

You laughed. “I just wanted you to hold my hand,” you said innocently. You looked down at your hand still intertwined with his.

He threw it away stalking off down the street. You thought for a second you had seen him blush. You just shake your head.

You walked in silence for a while, watching as Eijirou sniffed every lamppost, ever plant, and every trash can you passed by. People avoided Bakugou on the street, making sure to walk into the road to avoid being near him. It probably didn’t help the Eijirou was a growling machine whenever anyone looked his way.

“We’re going to cut down this alley and walk behind the buildings. The dog is wasting our time stopping every second he can to get his damn fix.” So you followed Bakugou down an alley with Eijirou watching carefully behind you.

The alleyway was plastered with ‘Missing Person’ posters. Faces of all ages stared at you with messages from loved ones pleading for the viewer to call specified numbers if there was any information on their whereabouts. You read some of the names. ‘Momo Yaoyorozu’... ‘Denki Kaminari’... ‘Hitoshi Shinsou’... You came upon a poster where the person’s face was torn away from the wall. The name read ‘Izuku Midoriya.’

Bakugou has stopped walking to watch you look at all the posters. You turned to him and asked, “is this town safe?”

“Does it feel safe?” He glared at you. He was so cryptic.

You gulped. It didn’t. But you weren’t going to let this smug fucker spook you out when you wanted to enjoy your night. You sarcastically fluttered your lashes gave him a smile, curling a lock of hair around your finger and gushed, “I feel safe knowing that a big strong man such as yourself is here to be my personal body guard.” You could nearly see steam fuming out of his nostrils. Eijirou barked at you, as if to say, I’m here too you know! You turned away from him and skipped down the alleyway.

The back of each building had something beautifully painted on it. You were mesmerized by the swirl of blue mixed with an orange and pink hue that painted a landscape of a giant wave crashing against a bluff. The next building had the scene of a thunder storm in the middle of a desert, the cactus and dunes were silhouetted against a purple night sky with a white lightning bolt bursting through it.

The last building on your trek really caught your eye. An incredibly bulky man stood over a mound of skeletons that had pointed teeth. His blonde hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. He held a medieval axe in one hand while his other flexed showing off rippling muscles. He had a huge conquering smile on.

“We’re here,” Bakugou snapped you out of your daze.

“Wow,” was all you said.

“Tch,” Bakugou looked down at Eijirou who seemed almost as amazed as you were at the painting. You didn’t think dogs could understand artwork. “You’re staying right here,” Bakugou said to the dog.

Eijirou let out a whine but he sat down obediently.

A bell dinged as you entered the store. At the front, an older man sat staring blankly through the window at people walking by. He was scrawny, nearly skin and bones, eyes sunken in casting a shadow over his face, but he had wild blonde hair, with bangs parted down the middle falling to either side of his face. When you walked by, giving him a smile, he slowly put up a hand to greet you but continued to stare outside, as if his greeting was only a reflex. Bakugou didn’t look at him.

The place was filled. Different swords and weapons decorated the walls, comic books grew in stacks, there were standees of heroes from recent movies you’ve watched in theaters, and separate sections for old movies, games, and cds were labeled in pictures and stickers, and there were stairs towards the back of the store labeled ‘records,’ with a sign pointing up.

You slowly walked to a stack of books and fingered the folds of a random book before picking it up. It had been a manga from the mid 2000’s called, ‘My Date With a Teenaged Vampire.’ You snickered to yourself as you flipped through the pages, watching the heroine blush and swoon over a very cheesy looking vampire.

Bakugou scoffed over your shoulder causing you to jump and throw the book back into the stack. “Jesus! Hover much, Katsuki?”

“It’s Bakugou,” he rolled his eyes at you. “Of course you’re one of those girls that believe in that ‘vampires are romantic, star crossed lovers, fate’s kiss’ bullshit. Vampires feed, kill, and burn, in that order.”

“And werewolves howl, piss on trees, and hump each other, in that order,” you wanted to defend yourself but you didn’t want him to think you cared about what he thought about you. You didn’t.

“Werewolves don’t exist,” he said crossing his arms, challenging you.

“And vampires do? Honestly, Bakugou, if you are gonna be a killjoy, you could just wait outside.”

“I don’t see why the fuck not. It’s not like I wanna be here.”

“The door,” you said, motioning towards the outside, “is right over there.”

He narrowed his eyes and slammed his hand on the table next to you and started leaning in to you causing you to move away from him. For a split second you thought he was going to kiss you but the thought quickly left your mind when he stopped right in front of you, his hot breath on h s face. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he whispered and shoved something to your chest before stalking away towards the front. You watched as he swung the door open, causing the bell to ring, and the shopkeeper raised his hand to say goodbye to his guest.

You looked at what Bakugou had left you. It was a comic book from the 1980’s. The title of the book was blacked out with sharpie pen and over it written in chipping whiteout was ‘10 Ways To Absolutely Destroy a Vampire.’ You flipped through the comic and saw various different scribbles over the original work, seeming to correct or call bullshit on certain things the comic had written in it. You read through a strip where the hero dramatically piles a stake through the heart of a vampire the words ‘obviously’ were messily scribbled next to the perishing vampire. You scrunched your face. Why did Bakugou give you trash? You flipped to the last page of the book where ‘property of Edgar and Alan Frog: vampire hunters’ were written. “Well, Edgar and Alan Frog, you guys are psychos,” you said aloud.

A sudden ring from the door front caused you to jump. You glanced up to see the shopkeeper put up his hand in greeting but didn’t see anybody in the store. A shiver went up your spine. Maybe it was someone lost or confused and turned back immediately? You shrugged it off but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

You made your way up the stairs to look at the collection of records. You flipped through the $2” stack and read through dozens of bands you hadn’t heard of. Your hand ghosted over some lapel pins representing music labels. You made your way over to the rock bands that were in an alphabetized order. You scanned through through the D’s; David Bowie, Dead Kennedy’s, Depeche Mode, and your fingers landed on the Morrison Hotel album by the Doors. You pulled it out of the stack and you felt eyes on you again.

You turned abruptly and your eyes met with mesmerizing emerald ones. You smiled at the messy haired boy who was fixated on you before returning reading the back of the album.

“Jim Morrison... quite the inspiration,” a friendly voice rang in your ears.

Nervous at the stranger speaking to you you didn’t look up from the album when you replied, “yeah... I think my dad is a big fan of his. I’m thinking about getting him this album.”

“You should get it for yourself,” the voice was right up against your ear. You took a step away and turned to the boy, giving him a surprised look.

His green irises peaked through half lidded eyes, face dusted in freckles, his red lips stretched into a lazy smile when he got a good look at you. He almost looked like a doll. He wore a white dress shirt with a black vest, black slacks, and converse. His cute face did not match his clothes at all.

“M-maybe I will,” you felt an uneasy tension creep up your back.

Taking a step closer he reached behind you, his arm pressing uninvitedly on your shoulder, and pulled a different record back into his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re going to get an album by The Doors, might I suggest ‘Strange Days,’?” He flipped the vinyl over to show up the list of songs, rubbing his shoulder against yours. “Some of the songs feature a harpischord, an elegant instrument that’s not usually associated with rock and roll.” When you didn’t say anything he continued, “you know, when Morrison died they didn’t do surgery on his body to see what his cause of death was. Some believe he might still be alive.”

That made you laugh. “Yeah he’s probably somewhere sharing a drink with Elvis, right?”

The boy grinned at your joke. “Yeah, something like that,” the spirit of eerie irony filled his voice.

You took the vinyl from his hands and admired the odd photo they used as the album cover.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked.

“F/N L/N,” you said without hesitation. You felt you should be cautious around him but you couldn’t help but blurt out the honest answer immediately. A shiver shot through your body.

“F/N L/N,” your name was drawled our through his lips, slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “You’re a friend of Kacchan’s?”

“Who?”

The boy chuckled humorlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou. I can smell him on you.” Another uneasy wave hit you, still you were unable to move away from the boy. “He has a hard time making friends.”

“I can’t fathom why,” you said rolling your eyes.

The boy jumped up to sit on top of the counter holding the records. He smiled down on you. “I like you, y/n,” he said slightly kicking his feet. He reached over to the box of lapel pins and held it in his lap. He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Will you do me a favor?”

I don’t think so. “Sure.”

“Give me your hand.”

Your right hand involuntarily reached up to reach the boys. Taking one of the lapel pins he pricked your pointer finger. You winced, shooting your hand back. A drop of scarlet oozed from the tip. You sucked at your wound.

The boy’s smile grew, his tongue pressed against his white teeth. “What does it taste like?”

Leave. Turn around and leave. Go find Bakugou and go home. “It takes like,” you licked your finger, “skin and copper.” Why do you want to know?

He bit his lip, looking pleased. He held out his hand to you once more. “Let me try.”

Again your hand met his. He caresses your arm as he brought your bleeding finger to his lips, keeping eye contact with you, he kissed your finger. “Oh,” he took your finger into your mouth, you felt his tongue swirl around the wound, and he sucked. A greedy moan escaped his lips.

You felt a different kind of tingling envelope your body. It’s like you were entranced by this man who was sampling your blood.

Looking pleased, he let your hand fall to your side. “You taste magnificent. Like honey, sunshine,... ambrosia.” He licked his lips as if the taste of you lingered on them. “I can’t wait to have you when you’re not intoxicated.”

How does he know? How am I not screaming? Why can’t I call for help? Questions ran rapidly through your head as you stared at the green haired boy, paralyzed.

He hopped down from the counter and started walked towards the stairs. “Sadly, we’ll have to save that for another... date.”

Your body was burning to move. “What’s your name?” Was all you could muster.

He tossed his head back, sleepy eyes landing on you. “*Izuku Midoriya*, but you won’t be remembering that anytime soon.” The boy disappeared down the stairs.

Chapter 3

Tags for EVERYTHING: @yandere-inamorata @doriichii @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @kido-is-not-a-ghost @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelenore @kpanime @jetblackjessie @ayeputita @bokunoheroes-stories @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland

If you asked to be tagged in Like Ghosts In Snow please remind me. The list slipped through my silly seal flippers and I misplaced it.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #my hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha reader insert #reader insert #villain deku x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader

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realsamcalloway · 7 years

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2/22/17 - Interview With Musician Brody Dalle “Style Evolution From AUS to The USA” (www.regardingstyle.com)

Originally posted February 22, 2017 and appearing on www.regardingstyle.com.

A Conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style (And More)

By Sam Bone

The indie/punk rock/alternative music scene has been a desolate, lonely lull since 2014. It’s been nearly three whole years since fans of Brody Dalle’s haunting-yet-dangerous growl and lyrical prowess have heard anything new. If you’re a genuine fan of Brody’s (which I have no shame in admitting that I adore her immensely and forever!), then you’re probably one of the 300,000+ people who follow or “Like” her social media posts. It is from within this social media sphere, where fans grasp onto every tweet, photo and post in general, in hopes of a tour announcement or a Beyoncé-inspired surprise album drop.

This question has been an ongoing one for Brody Dalle since she and her (former) band of misfits, The Distillers, hit the punk scene in the late 90’s/beginning of 2000. The Distillers self-titled album was single-handedly the anthem record equivalent of ammunition of that time, and every record Brody has since released has only added as kindling to that raging fire. Back then during the “debut era,” fans of Dalle were in high school (or just out) and most of those fans have grown up right alongside with her. It didn’t matter what was happening, either.

Fans of Brody Dalle don’t “mess” around, and have stayed with her through it all, the good times and the bad. #Punx4Ever, right?

Since the debut in 2000, Brody released two more records under The Distillers moniker, Sing Sing Death House (2002), and Coral Fang (2003), followed by her Spinnerette project which saw the release of an album with the same name in 2009. Most recently, die-hard fans rejoiced when Brody flew solo with the powerful and equally as memorable Diploid Love (2014).

In January of this year the stage was set for me to interview Brody and in an attempt to tackle something she has never spoken about publically; her personal style and fashion sense. I know I’ve always been pretty curious about this subject, so I’m willing to bet that other fans share my feels.

Being a badass punk poster girl, plastered on the walls of both guys and gals the world over (her fans expand across both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans), Brody Dalle’s sense of style has a direct correlation to ethical fashion in that punk style requires a love of thrift store shopping. Tattered and torn hand-me-downs are always in high demand no matter what rock subgenre you identify.

Without further ado, here is our 2017 conversation with Brody Dalle, Regarding Style.

Hey there, Brody! I’d like to start off slightly unconventional by asking what’s got you angry lately?

The insanity right now-- the attitude and the words that come out of the Orange-Faced thing. Pence. Speaker Ryan and Bannon. He's terrifying and completely delusional and represents the Christian alt-right. Fuck all of them; their gross incompetence and their being unqualified, arrogant fucks. The lying, the misogyny, the racism, the homophobia and the unfairness of it all. The (Russian) hacking. The lack of people being held accountable. It's disgusting, embarrassing and horrifying. The hypocrisy of banning Muslims from entering the United States when this country was founded on freedom of religious beliefs.

It's baffling really. By the way, it’s only been a week.

I don’t want to get too into that here, because it’d be unending, but I will just say three words: I feel you. How are you, otherwise? How is your family? Congratulations on the birth of your newest son, Wolf!

Thank you so much! My family is wonderful! My son Wolf is a sunbeam rainbow baby, sweetest little munchkin ever. As far as myself, I'm doing better-- Going from 2 to 3 kids was a massive adjustment. Wolf is about to be one, and it's taken me about a year to get back on my feet. It's been a bit wobbly trying to balance the kids with no sleep, having to breastfeed, and issues with my health (rheumatic fever with chronic pain). Also balancing my husband’s schedule, kids school schedule, and then our family… friends… just our lives, in general… all while trying to balance my own personal life and get back to creating. Just started in the studio a couple of days a week.

How do we do it all though?! I asked my mum if life has gotten crazier and she said yes… life used to be much simpler, slower, and we didn't always have to be “on” and available.

I feel as though technology has much to do with society’s rapid pace, also that “rat race” you once spoke of is real. The struggle is real. Since the Distillers all the way through now, your style has influenced a lot of people, both girls and guys. Where did your sense of style develop? What are your earliest memories?

I guess it all started with the punks in Melbourne. I made a book for my mum when I was about 6 years old; it was of punks walking down the street whistling and girls doing handstands. I asked her why she thought I drew punks in the book with the mohawks and she had no idea, but suggested maybe I'd seen them on the street. Perhaps it was a prophecy ha!

I was in a movie about teenage delinquents called "Hard Knocks" when I was a baby, but I doubt I would have remembered it as I was 8 months old at the time. Right after that I went to see Cyndi Lauper at the Tennis Center, and Madonna was all over the TV and in the magazines-- I remember spending every waking hour putting those records on and dancing for hours in the living room with a black beauty mark drawn above my lip with my mum’s eyeliner.

My mum collected Vogue magazine, and I remember perusing though the 80’s ones and noticing all of the different angles, the neon colors and all of the multicolored make up. I sewed a pair of pants at my grandmother’s house once, but when I put them on they fell apart and I was discouraged with fashion after that.

I remember wanting certain things, the first thing I ever wanted, as far as fashion, was a purple feather in my hair for school photos when I was 5 years old. After that, it was a pale pink pair of sneakers at the tennis shop my dad would go to on the weekends… I begged him for months to buy them for me, and finally he acquiesced.

My first pair of Chuck Taylors were red and I got them when I was 8. My parents didn't have much money, so we shopped at Target for clothing which was the equivalent of Cole’s today, which I'm sure is way cooler than Target was back then. But it was mortifying, and I was teased mercilessly. Doc Martins were all the rage but they cost about $100 which, of course, my parents laughed at. So I ended up getting fake Docs… a mean girl at school made me lift up the bottom of my Docs and then ridiculed and teased me in front of the other mean girls, and well, that was that.

My Uncle Frazer gave me my first guitar and also my first surfboard; a Strapper Thruster with a giant red sun on it. I went through a surfer girl phase and got an undercut and wore giant rusty t-shirts and surfer boots and brands. I longed to be a pro surfer but there are no waves in Melbourne, the best waves were at least an hour away. Plus, I was pale as a ghost and I looked nothing like the tanned bleached blonde beach girls. I gave up surfing after being tossed around like a rag doll in 20 foot waves in Coffs Harbour, I thought “This really isn’t for me anymore" as I did full cartwheels underwater for a minute at a time.

One of the first records I ever bought was Mothers Milk by RHCP. When I was 12 and on my way to Vaucluse Catholic Girls college in Richmond, the RHCP got on our tram. They walked right up to me and talked with me for 5 minutes before getting off a few stops later… so weird to think about that, cut to The Distillers opening for them in German stadiums 12 years later. They actually remembered our encounter. Fucking weird mate.

I hated everyone and everything after that-- I got into Nirvana, Hole, Mudhoney, and Sonic Youth, and then I started going to All-Ages shows in

Melbourne. The bands I loved the most were The Meanies, Tumbleweed and the Hard-Ons.

Then, flares and ripped band t-shirts were the fash. Eventually I started working at Friends of the Earth when I was a 12-year-old hippy/anarchist. That was a Co-op that my parents shopped at. I bought my first item of clothing with the money I had earned; vintage orange and brown flares, which I wore to death to every Tumbleweed and Meanies All-Ages shows I ever attended in Melbourne.

Then it evolved to Dead Kennedys and Kyuss t-shirts. That's right, Kyuss... they were my favorite band. I also wore Levi's jeans, one pair at a time until there was NOTHING left!

After that, thanks to Courtney Love, it was 1940's tea dresses, nighties, and ripped fishnets worn with shitty, op-shop high heels and Chuck Taylors.

After that, I got into Discharge, The Exploited, Cock Sparrer, Oi Polloi and Last Resort. I got beat up by two street girls in the city wearing Bon Jovi t-shirts, and they fractured my arm... I was so pissed I shaved my head the next day into a Chelsea haircut and I dyed it blue. Also by now I could afford to buy real vintage stuff with the money I made from my jobs, and I also bought my own Docs and any op-shop find, especially plaid mini-skirts.

So my look was Courtney Love meets Skinhead. A lot of tops had to have the “Courtney Love white collar.” Then when I was 17 years old I saw “Betty Blue” (the film), and that changed everything-- I wanted black hair in a choppy bob. Black hair became my favorite thing! I got into do wop music and started cleaning up my look; black hair, up in a high ponytail with long side burns and big hoop earrings, Revlon Color Stay in Berry Red, black liquid eyeliner and Creepers-- plaid Creepers. Mini-skirts. Bomber jackets.

By this point I was in L.A., so I was being influenced by so much in Los Angeles and also New York, mainly trash and vaudeville. I was hanging around a lot of older, cooler punk chicks. My friend Tomomi made mohair sweaters.

I started cutting up my t-shirts after I'd seen a girl on the street with her t-shirt cut into tassels-- I didn't know that was an option and it changed the game. I became obsessed with, wore and collected Polly of California heels. I also discovered trashy lingerie and agent provocateur. I admired Vivienne Westwood. My friend Evelyn had a shoe store called Diavolina and I became obsessed with shoes.

I met Agatha Blois, who made most of my pants that I wore on stage… another game changer. Rosalyn Mazzola (“Casper Rose,” for you diehards out there) had these naturally occurring dark circles under her eyes and I loved the way it looked so I recreated it by using MAC's color 'texture', which is still my favorite for smoky eyes.

Right before we made Sing Sing Death House I met Rosalyn, and I fell in love. She was so beautiful and androgynous-looking, like jaw-dropping beautiful… I felt so ugly next to her. God I loved her so much. We kind of morphed into each other for a while although her thing was more gutter than mine. We dressed like dirty squatter boys and put our eyebrows on with black sharpie, it lasted for a week sometimes longer. I look back at old photos of us and think we looked pretty scummy but we weren’t, I swear! I’m a very hygienic person, my favorite smell back then was this raspberry body spray that smelt more like cotton candy. They stopped making it of course, they stop making everything that’s awesome. I had my managers hunt down the last box in America. I wear mostly vanilla these days. The way you smell, your scent, is as important and memorable as your clothes.

I will add this- my style icons in the past have been Kurt Cobain, Courtney Love, Lydia Lunch, the Misfits, Beatrice Dalle in “Betty Blue,” Discharge, The Exploited, Sex Pistols, DEBBIE HARRY ❤️, Vivienne Westwood, Oi, Agatha Blois, other punk girls.

Thank you for sharing all of those memories. I remember first hearing The Distillers on a sampler… I think it was one of those oi, garage punk compilations. Anyway, it had the rough cut of LA Girl on it, from the Oldscratch EP. It was of course this audio that lead me to visual curiosity so I checked out the band, and I remember the days of Rose and recall that she was very street punk, which obviously appealed to me. Moving on, do you have a vault of super-secret punk rock DIY designers that custom-make your garments? Who/what are some brands and designers that you respect?

Ha! I used to when I was touring more! I'm not much of a “fashionista.” I'm lucky to know and have some very talented friends who happen to be incredible clothing makers and designers. I'm not really too into brand names per se, it's more that I know what I like when I see it, or I’ll get inspired by something old and remake it. I did have a love for Vivienne Westwood, in fact my look in The Distillers was really a mash-up of Vivienne Westwood, Agatha Blois, t-shirts scoured from Goodwill, "wife beaters" from Target, Polly of California, trashy lingerie, vintage coats, various jeans, Submission, Very Bad Horse, spray-painted hooker boots from Hollywood Blvd, Agent Provocateur, very sick and cool shit from Japan and my old friend Tomomi (Fukuda) has a store called Camden Lock. I love Agatha Blois as a friend, and her designs had a big impact on me, she and I worked really well together. Ligia Morris made a badass jumpsuit and some stage clothes for Reading and Leeds festivals in 2004. Corey Parks makes the meanest leather jackets and pants ever. I love Hedy Slimanes, and obviously his influence made that company (Yves Saint Laurent, YSL) what it is today. Punk is Hedy's staple diet I think, not sure where YSL is headed now.

When it comes down to it, it's not the label, it's what I like in the moment.

That’s great, and it’s also very cool that a lot of those more indie-back-then designers have really sort of exploded in the sense that they are doing their thing with their boutiques and brands. I know you’re busy, thanks so much for your time. Lastly, what can fans expect from you next?

I’m slowly coming out of the 1-year baby fog of losing myself completely. It’s a scary process to unravel but I usually get songs out of it. My plan is to write two records which I’ve just started.

I know fans will love this news! Again thank you so much, nothing but the purest wishes for both you and your family!

You can stay up to date with Brody oh her Twitter and Instagram profiles.

Certain elements, such as links and photos, may have been removed from the original version of the above article.

#brody dalle #the distillers #spinnerette #diploid love #coral fang #sam bone #trsb #regarding style #writing sample #author #author sample #interviews #australia #donald trump

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punchlinesf · 5 years

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The Punch Line and The Pit Bull

Bobby Slayton: (Picks Up Phone) You're 3 minutes late. It's 2:03. If you're 3 minutes late every day, eventually that's over 20 minutes late a week which is over 1,000 minutes a year that you wasted of my time. I'm a busy guy. I don't have time to waste.

That's actually the abbreviated version of how the infamously sharp-tongued comedian answered the phone. There was no attempt at a compulsory greeting. He was immediately (and hilariously) ranting, raving and calling me out on my tardiness. Slayton is one of the few comics that was both around at Punch Line's inception in 1978, and who has routinely performed here yearly since. Taking his lead, I didn't even attempt to slow things down and introduce myself. I just played along...

Ronn Vigh: So, is this why you're known as "The Pitbull of Comedy?"

BS: Well, Alex Bennett came up with that. He was a big SF radio guy in the 80s and 90s. He really was the first guy in the country to have comics on the radio and I was the first guy. Then one day, I lost the radio station a big account they had with McDonalds because I made an innocuous little joke about them. Who even knows what it was. That was when Bennett told me, "Slayton, you're like a pitbull. You bite the hand that feeds you." It just stuck.

RV: And, so you've been--------

BS: I don't really like it anymore. I told my people to take it off my website. So, what are we doing here? What's this for anyway?

RV: Well, this is for Punch Line San Francisco's comedy blog. Since you're hosting our 40th anniversary celebration shows, I really wanted to get the chance to talk to you comic-to-comic and hear about the early days of our beloved club and how things have progressed or regressed over the last 40 years.

BS: Yea, well when it started, the place was a real dump! There was a big club just next door - The Old Waldorf. Where the Punch Line is now was kind of the back stage area when there was a show. It was a beat up shitty bar with a big pool table. One Embarcadero wasn't even built yet, there wasn't action downtown, it was pretty dead. Jon Fox started doing comedy there first and he used me a lot and Bruce Balm, George Wallace, Elayne Boosler, we were all coming up and around then.... but it wasn't a nice place. I was kind of embarrassed.

RV: We're you simply living in the moment and doing gigs at the club because they were available to you? Or, did you recognize early on that the place was a diamond in the rough?

BS: Yea.... I had started doing comedy about a year before that and was kind of the house MC. I was so embarrassed by the joint. There were plastic sheets nailed to the ceiling, old beat up couches with nails coming out of the side, the microphone was mounted from the ceiling and would fall down during the show. The place was a fucking wreck. The guy running the place was such a cheap fuck. So, I went out and bought movie posters, posters of old time comics and tried to make it look decent. When Bill Graham took it over, he finally put some money into it.

RV: I technically started comedy in New York. However, Punch Line has been highly influential in my development as a comic during the 2000's. It sounds like it was both the infancy of your career and the club when you were performing here regularly. How do you think it has influenced your career?

BS: When Old Waldorf was next door, they were paying like 25 or 50 dollars a set at both places and Dana Carvey, Kevin Pollak and I worked the rooms the most. You would go up before the band, then over to the Punch Line and back to the band and then back to the club for the late show. By the last show, between the booze and probably the coke too, I'd be on my ninth set and forgot what the hell I talked about already. But, that's what got me good.... getting a lot of stage time. It was kill or be killed. It was really very good training!

RV: So, your career has spanned 4 decades. Being the "Pitbull of Comedy" that you are, have you found it harder or easier to do your act in more recent years?

BS: It's really much harder now. You think at this point audiences would be better trained but the attention span of millennials is that of a fucking fly.

RV: Yes but with the current political and social climate, do you think people tend to have more knee-jerk reactions rather than just listening to the material as a whole?

BS: All they hear are buzzwords. Holocaust. Autism. AIDS. Then they are quick to judge and get all caught up in a fucking bandwagon. As far as I'm concerned, if you can't name any of The Beatles then you should be dead. And then the millennials will complain, "Oh well The Beatles were before my time." It's like fuck you! George Washington was before my time and I still know that he's on the fucking one dollar bill.

RV: Do you think social media and sites like YouTube have ruined the live stand-up comedy experience?

BS: I never liked social media. I tweet once a week and I lose followers once a week. I don't give a shit anymore. The whole game has changed. You had guys like (Don) Rickles and dozens of comics in the 60s who would go on stage in 3 or 4 piece suits, jacket and ties... Now it wouldn't even matter. Everyone is a slob, in dirty shorts. Flip flops. It's disgusting now. It was a different time, a different era.

RV: In all 40 years, what are your best memories of performing at Punch Line?

BS: Robin Williams stopping by all the time and a lot of hot waitresses.

RV: I've heard stories of Robin popping in a lot. Though, I've also heard this club referred to as "The House That Bobby Built."

BS: You know where that comes from, right?

RV: Um. (Long Pause) I'm afraid to tell you no.

BS: Didn't you say you were from the fucking East Coast? It comes from Babe Ruth. Yankee Stadium. The house that Ruth built. Listen, I don't know if I contributed that much to the long term success. I was certainly a part of it and so was Dana Carvey, Kevin Pollak, Jon Fox, Bill Graham. It really was a big group effort.

It will certainly be a group effort again as we celebrate our 40th anniversary throughout October. Bobby Slayton is coming back to MC a series of shows featuring comics that have helped shape our club throughout its 40 years of serving up live comedy.

Bobby Slayton & Friends 40th Anniversary Celebration At Punch Line San Francisco on Oct 11, 12, 13. One show Thursday. 2 Shows on Friday and Saturday. Tickets are $25 - $30.

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