Wildwood Daze – Spring of 1980 – The Union Jacks – Part 2

Look at Chaz in his black outfit, with his ’79 Black Ibanez Iceman, rocking out for the kids. Baby steps.

 

We get our first gig at Margaret Mace Elementary and Middle School. We’re going to play for the kids in middle school. 12, 13, 14 year old kids.

Jim went to this school, and knows the faculty. He was good student, but my dear friend is an older man in high school now. He’s in Wildwood High now with me and Mark the bassist.

Incidentally I will add this side note. My Uncle Jack was valedictorian from the first graduating class of Margaret Mace. My father told me he never cracked a book. Just a brilliant charming dude.

Love him forever.

I wish I were his son. Just neglect me and let me play rock and be in the music industry.

I think family genetics get mixed up but great creativity came from pain and oppression so I’m fine with where I came from.

All the best art comes from the oppressed. Under Jack I may have just ended up a privileged asshole so I’m fine with where my soul landed.

I’m terrified to do our first show. But it’s a bunch of young kids in an auditorium. I can’t eat before the show for fear of throwing up. No one in the band knows about my severe anxiety problem.

They’re ready to rock these kids and take this band for a test drive.

I’m terrified, but we’ve rehearsed everything and have our whole set list ready. Brian would write out the set list and tape it to the floor in front of every one of us so we knew what was going to happen. I always felt comfort in that, so thank you Bri.

If I just could get through the first song I’d be fine. We got this. We always opened with Freeway Jam, I think by Jeff Beck. It was just a cool song we could run licks on and warm up to get the audience going.

It’s funny because almost every blues act does the same thing. They come out and jam for a bit and then get into their real shit with singing and hits. We did the same thing as a fledgling band automatically. It just worked for us so we could warm up and get to the songs.

We hit our groove, and Brian is always the constant professional showman we need to carry us forth.

He’s just great. He is clearly the leader of this band and we let him have the reigns. He carries us through our show with tight drumming and great vocals and showmanship.

Brian is clearly the leader of this band, but he can’t do it without me, the creative songwriter, cute, rock star one, Jim, the sizzling lead guitarist, and Mark, his flexible tone deaf puppet, carrying the rhythm.

It’s Brian’s band and it’s always been Brian’s band, but today he’s a little outnumbered. The audience has me and Jim rocking out on our guitars in the front.

Thats who the audience adores.

I’m just trying to hold it together and hit all of the right notes.

However, I’ve brought several guitar picks with me and I am throwing them out to the kids in the audience.

I’ve lived this exact scenario as a kid. If there was some rock band playing and I could be a part of it, I would attach myself to that in a second. I knew that even though I was playing rock at a middle school I had to go full on rock star. Because that’s what I wanted to be.

I bought tons of guitar picks before the show and threw dozens into the crowd knowing the result. The kids went crazy. Brian picked up on this and tossed drumsticks into the audience and they fought over them.

Back in 1979-1980 the song by JJ. Cale that became a hit by Eric Clapton had become a hit. It was all over the radio. It was called Cocaine.

Huge hit. We covered the song because it was wildly popular that year. People loved it.

Should we have played Cocaine to a bunch of 13-year-old kids? Probably not. We didn’t even think about it at the time. It was just a hit. But to play that for a bunch of kids in middle school, we probably should have deleted from the set list.

I can tell you that we did the chorus…. “She don’t like, She don’t like, She don’t like…..

The kids would shout: COCAINE!

We had know idea.

Union Jacks were already a dangerous band. (We were just playing what was popular on the radio. (Should we have reviewed the set list before playing in front of a bunch of kids….yea probably)

We’re nearing the end of our set. (The kids are going wild) The Vice Pincipal walks onstage and tells us we’re done.

Brand new young lead guitarist Jim and former alum literally pushed him off the stage…

“We’re not done yet.”

He launches into “My Generation” by the The Who, which to me is my favorite song Jim ever performed with our band. It just seemed so arrogant. It just seemed to embody my best friend.

We close out the show and I think maybe Jim busted up his Strat for show.

We never fucked around with our equiptment but because I spent $500 of my busboy money on my sweet guitar I always treated like my best girl. But Jim beat his Strat into the bass drum that day. It was a pot CBS Strat so I knew that bolt on neck would hold and could be fixed.

 

We promise to meet up later to review and revel.

By the end of the show I had a headache from not eating/not puking/anxiety/ I walked home and sat at the kitchen table with my mom.

“How was the show?”

“I should probably eat something.”

“PBJ rock star?”

“That would be lovely, mom. I think we did good but we may have played some songs that not everybody liked.”

“Well you have to expect that in rock and roll. You think Elvis cared?”

I knew my mom cried when Elvis died, but in that moment I knew my mom, even though she wouldn’t go to my shows, was proud of me.

She got it.

She just was so afraid of watching me fail.

I didn’t care. I was just happy I didn’t puke on stage because of my anxiety.

I did it. I made it.

Knock at the door. Mark and Brain are there.

One Bufferin and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich later…

“Hey guys. Thanks for bring my gear home.

Mark: “I feel like a fuckin roadie.”

Chaz: Welcome to real rock and roll. We just played a real gig and rocked the fuck out. I know it was to a bunch of kids, but we’ve got something here an got paid! ”

Mark: “Some kids recorded the whole concert on tape recorders.”

Chaz: ” Really? We have to hear them!”

Brian: “Yea. We have more gigs coming up.”

Chaz: “Cool man. We’re going to the top!”

Brian: “Oh, these are for you. Looks like you’re pretty popular.”

He hands me a stack of slips of paper with girls names and phone numbers on them.

IT’S STARTING….

I have finally arrived.

I read them all and can’t believe that after all of this time of being a loser this is happening now.

A bunch of 11, 12 and 13 year old girls want to meet me.

I throw them all in the wastebasket in my bedroom.

Because all of these lovelies are minors. Sadly this is something that will haunt me my entire life.

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Lori Maddox – Part 2

MICHAEL OCHS ARCHIVES/GETTY IMAGES
COURTESY OF LORI MATTIX

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Lori Maddox – Part 1

“I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO DAVID BOWIE”

IN THE EARLY 1970S, the Sunset Strip was a magnet for rock stars: Bowie, Zeppelin, Iggy Pop, Mott the Hoople, The Who. They all hung out in the VIP rooms of louche LA nightclubs like E Club, the Rainbow, and Rodney Bingenheimer’s English Disco. And with them, of course, came groupies. Scantily clad 14- and 15-year-olds like Sable Starr and Lynn “Queenie” Koenigsaecker sipped cherry cola, dropped pills, and evolved into pubescent dream girls for the platform-shoed rockers who could get anything and anyone they desired. 

MICHAEL OCHS ARCHIVES/GETTY IMAGES
MICHAEL OCHS ARCHIVES/GETTY IMAGES

 

 

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Wildwood Daze – Winter of 1980 – These Fucking Guys

Karma’s a real thing.

I’m busting my ass to work with this band with no name. I’m trying to fit in. I don’t know what Brian the drummer’s deal is. He’s a great singer, showman, and tough leader and we need direction. Jesse is a super talented guitarist way beyond my knowledge. I’m just trying to keep up and happy to be here and learn. Mark’s family owns the practice space and they have money. I just know it. This is successful restaurant that only needs to be open three months a year. I’m sure they’re doing well.

Mark has great equipment. Obviously not earned like me and my dear friend Jim. I’m sure his parents hooked him up with good gear because they’re rich. There’s a difference. I don’t care. I’m just happy to be rocking.

I slowly begin to discover that Mark is tone-deaf.

Our fucking bass player is tone-deaf. How is he a musican? I suppose we should all be proud that he’s a musician. Being tone-deaf means you can’t distinguish between notes in music. What the fuck dude? That IS music, motherfucker!

But you own the space and I’m still the Ronnie Wood in this band so I’ll be cool.

But another thing I learned was there was night I called Brian to see if there was practice and he would say no. I started to get suspicious.

I talked to my dad about it and he said the following:

“just go up to the restaurant one night when there’s no practice.”

I did this one night and walked in on them auditioning another guitarist to take my place.

This was a shocking and heartbreaking moment for me. I knew Brian was a controlling fucker, Mark would go with whatever the majority was and super talented Jesse was just a pussy puppet.

That was this dysfunctional family. A distrustful mess.

I walk in and I see some cunt playing through my Marshall and I’m pissed and hurt. I’ve abandoned my dear friend Jim. I betrayed him and now it’s me that’s getting betrayed.

Karma’s a real thing.

“What the fuck Brian?”

I think back in that moment how me, Larry and Jerry ran Jack out of Renegade to make way for Mike Carlin. We’re all little pieces of shit so I need to be cool.

“You just seemed too mouthy and wanted to take over the band with your opinions and songs. ”

“I’ve been always been honored to play with you guys. I left my best friends band to come play with you guys. I’m sorry if I came on to strong. I was just so enthusiastic to jam with you guys and join your band. I can scale it back.”

Brian looks at me with those blue eyes. Gives me the thousand yard stare. The loser guitar packs up and get out of there knowing there is a domestic about to happen.

“You auditioned these dicks behind my back and let them plug into my amp?”

“Sorry about that man. I just thought you came in here and thought you had too much control.”

“Brian, that has never been my intention. I just am so happy to play with you guys.”

This is the moment I learned that a band is like a marriage and a shitty family all in one. You would think I would have learned this valuable lesson and carried it forth into my future married life.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” (Brian was good like that) “You’re in.”

————————————————————————————————————————————-

Things were great after that. We grew as a band and were tighter than a crab’s ass. (That’s water tight!)

We bonded as a band. We made great music. I was happy. I would hang out and get pizza with Brian. He was a tough customer but a great singer and an amazing drummer.  I almost felt like we should get a drummer and he should be the lead singer of the band. I loved my role in the band. I just played rhythm and they let me do my original songs that I would sing. They actually liked when I would write a new piece and introduce it to the band. We were rocking!

There were nights I would hang with Mark. As fat and gross as he was he had a hot girlfriend. We as a band were all amazed by this, but well done, sir.

At a Styx concert when the band played their hit “Lady” Mark punched his girlfriend in the face. He didn’t mean to he simply thrust out his fists in joy that the band was playing the song and caught her in the nose.

Mark had a car. It was an enormous puke green station wagon that was great for hauling our gear. It had th frostiest air condioning I’ve ever felt. I don’t know what make or model that monstrosity was but it was a great car, It had faux wood paneling on the sides of it, that’s how horrible it was. But I will tell you this: It had a great cassette player in it and I was turned onto the lovely Pat Benatar in that car and have enjoyed being transported to shows not sweating my ass off.

But I do remember some tender times between Mark and myself. Brian was a gruff motherfucker but I was the sensitive Beatle. There were so many nights Mark and I would hang out in his car and just talk about life.

If he was struggling with something, his girl or whatever, he knew he could come and pick me up and we would listen to Joe Perry’s first solo album and had it out in his car. I knew Mark was sensitive and I think when I joined the band he had somebody he could talk to finally. Brian. Prick. Boss. Jesse. Great guitarist and moron.

Mark loved music and reminded me of Larry from Renegade, Guys that made music  just because they loved it so much. We all had different goals. It’s weird … you’re all in the same band but you all want the different thing. I can imagine a band that all wants the same things. What can that be like? Led Zeppelin? Aerosmith? I want that so bad, but that is hard to find on this little island.

We’ll just have to figure it out and make our way down here on this shitty little town.

We’re really good and I love this crazy band. But I’m worried. I feel there is a fragility to this group that could tear it apart at any moment.

————————————————————————————————————————————

“What?  Jesse is quitting the band? ”

“He wants to watch more TV.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Brian?”

“No man. He’s out. But I will tell you this.”

“What?”

“You know that hatchback Izuzu he drives?”

“Yea. He’s had that for years.”

You know how the whole back door is a glass window?

“Yea. So what?”

He quit the band today and packed up his shit. He put his amp in the back of his car and slammed the hatchback shut.”

“So?”

“The amp is square and it shattered his whole back window when he left today. It was fucking hilarious! His car’s back window is gone because of his stupidity. I couldn’t stop laughing. Stupid fucker!

I laugh with Brian over this crazy mishap but instantly have anxiety about the future of the band. Jesse had all of our songs and all of the leads.

We’re fucked.

“Hey man. Jesse was a piece of shit anyway. I fuckin’ hated him. Do you know anybody?”

My mind reeled at the loss of the greatest talent of my band suddenly gone. But in a few minutes I realized I did know someone.

“I have a guy, Brian.”

“Well, fucking bring him in for an audition because we’re short a lead guitarist. We’re going to have to start from scratch again.”

“I’ll give him a call.”

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Cynthia Albritton Made Plaster Molds Of Every Rock Star’s Dick

Often, fans want to commemorate seeing their rock gods by buying some merchandise — maybe a T-shirt or some rad collectible dishes. Really big fans hang out by the backstage, hoping they might get their hands on a guitar pick or a towel drained in frontman sweat. But the biggest of all fans won’t go home unless they get a plaster cast of their beloved musician’s penis. Meet Cynthia Albritton, aka Cynthia Plaster Caster, aka the “Super Groupie.” Cynthia spent the ’70s and ’80s making sure future generations would know how endowed the musical legends of the day were. (In the case of composer Clint Mansell: “very.”) She got her start after being given an assignment in art school to plaster cast “something hard,” which she interpreted as her art teacher telling her to go out and ask Jimi Hendrix if she could grab his dick.

After doggedly stalking Hendrix, she found herself invited up to his hotel room, at which point she pulled out her equipment, told him to stick it in, and made sure it stayed hard — a description which covers 99 percent of all rock star / groupie interactions. Being new to the taking-plaster-casts-of-musician-penises game, however, Cynthia made a mistake: She forgot to lube up Hendrix’s pubes, which led to an agonizing 15 minutes of his short and curlies getting yanked out of what must have felt like cooled adamantium. By the looks of it, maybe she didn’t forget to lube the base so much as run out of it by the time she got there.

Over the next few decades, Albritton would go onto plaster-cast members of bands such as MC5, Journey, the Kinks, the Beach Boys, the Lovin’ Spoonful, and the Dead Kennedy’s (Jello Biafra!). Then, in one of the most bizarre heists in history, Frank Zappa’s manager tried to steal her collection. Not because he wanted to protect Zappa’s choir-boy-like reputation, but because he wanted something interesting on his coffee table. And copies of his clients’ dicks definitely count.

 

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Tales of Rock – The Strange History of the Beach Boys and Charles Manson

WHEN people speak about the dangers of hitchhiking, the warning is usually directed at the one hopping into the vehicle. But when Dennis Wilson — drummer for The Beach Boys — picked up two teenage girls in early 1968 and convinced them to come back to his Sunset Boulevard mansion to hang out, he couldn’t have imagined the evil he was inviting into his life.

Dennis Carl Wilson (December 4, 1944 – December 28, 1983) was an American musician, singer, and songwriter who co-founded the Beach Boys. He is best remembered as their drummer and as the middle brother of band mates Brian and Carl Wilson. Dennis was the only true surfer in the Beach Boys, and his personal life exemplified the “California Myth” that the band’s early songs often celebrated. He was also known for his brief association with then-aspiring songwriter Charles Manson, who was later convicted of murder conspiracy.

Dennis served mainly on drums and backing vocals for the Beach Boys, and contrary to popular belief, his playing can be heard on many of the group’s hits.[1] He was allowed few lead vocals in the 1960s, but his prominence as a singer-songwriter increased into the 1970s. His original songs for the group included “Little Bird” (1968), “Forever” (1970), and “Slip On Through” (1970). Although uncredited, Wilson helped pen “You Are So Beautiful“, a hit for Joe Cocker in 1974. His music has been characterized for reflecting “his edginess and exhibited little of his happy charm, setting it apart from Brian’s music. … By all appearances the happy-go-lucky Beach Boy, Dennis Wilson lived out the proverbial live-fast-die-young motto. … His wild side masked an underside that was, by turns, brooding, self-loathing, sensitive, and anxious.”[2]

Wilson’s only solo album, Pacific Ocean Blue (1977), was released to warm reviews, but a moderate commercial reception. Written and recorded over a span of several years, the album peaked on US record charts at number 96 during a 12-week stay. Sessions for a follow-up, Bambu, disintegrated before his death in 1983. Five years later, Wilson was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Beach Boys.[3]

 

The girls were part of the Manson Family, a cult led by charismatic criminal Charles Manson, whose young members quickly moved into Wilson’s house. Just over a year later, the family perpetrated one of the most shocking and infamous crimes of the past century — killing nine people in four locations over a period of five weeks, in what has become known as the Tate/LiaBianca murders.

The Beach Boys soundtracked a perpetually sunny California. But their rose-coloured tales of first dates, surfing safaris, and puppy love couldn’t have been in starker contrast to what happened in 1969.

Interestingly, it was Dennis’ spiritual retreat to India in 1968 with the Beatles, folk singer Donovan, and fellow Beach Boys members that sowed the seeds for this fateful encounter — or at least instilled the mindset that would see Wilson throw open his house to strangers.

In an article published that year, hilariously titled “Dennis Wilson: I Live With 17 Girls” (boy, did that living arrangement backfire!), Wilson tells Record Mirror: “I told them [the girls] about our involvement with the Maharishi and they told me they too had a guru, a guy named Charlie who’d recently come out of jail after 12 years. He drifted into crime, but when I met him I found he had great musical ideas. We’re writing together now. He’s dumb, in some ways, but I accept his approach and have learnt from him.”

At first Dennis Wilson was taken by Charles Manson, and his unorthodox lifestyle. Manson was a struggling musician, and Wilson provided him the types of contacts necessary to achieve his dreams of stardom.

Wilson introduced him to record producer Terry Melcher, who Manson later felt slighted by; his home was the scene of the tragic Tate murders after an enraged Manson mistakenly believed Melcher still lived there.

Wilson also financed recording sessions with Manson and his older brothers Brian and Carl, who produced approximately 10 songs for a debut album — the results of which most likely will never see the light of day. (The perverse possibilities of Brian’s nostalgic, honeyed production mixed with Manson’s message are almost too much to bear.)

In August 1968, Manson threatened Wilson with a bullet, and the relationship swiftly broke down. According to longtime Beach Boys collaborator Van Dyke Parks, Manson presented the bullet, telling Wilson, “Every time you look at it, I want you to think how nice it is your kids are still safe.”

A physical altercation followed — or as Parks put it: “Dennis grabbed Manson by the head and threw him to the ground … He beat the living shit out of him.” Shortly after, a shaken Wilson abandoned the house, never to return. He refused to ever speak on record about this period.

As a creepy postscript, a song Manson wrote in 1968, the ominously-titled Cease To Exist, was reworked slightly by the Beach Boys as the softer — but still eerie — Never Learn Not To Love, and released on the band’s 20/20 album in February, 1969 — hitting stores less than six months before the murders.

With Manson owing Dennis over $100,000 by that point, Wilson took the copyright and was credited as the song’s sole composer — meaning many who cheerfully hummed away to the song over the following years had no idea of the inherent evil of its actual composer, or the twisted back story that led to the song’s existence.

For a month prior to his death, Dennis had been homeless and living a nomadic life.[20] In November 1983, he checked into a therapy center in Arizona for two days, and then on December 23, checked into St. John’s Medical Hospital in Santa Monica, where he stayed until the evening of December 25. Following a violent altercation at the Santa Monica Bay Inn, Dennis checked into a different hospital in order to treat his wounds. Several hours later, he discharged himself and reportedly resumed drinking immediately.[20][23]

On December 28, 1983, 24 days after his 39th birthday, Dennis drowned at Marina Del Rey, Los Angeles, after drinking all day and then diving in the afternoon, to recover items he had thrown overboard at the marina from his yacht three years prior.[20] Forensic pathologist Dr. Michael Hunter believes that Dennis experienced shallow water blackout just prior to his death.[24]

On January 4, 1984, the U.S. Coast Guard buried Dennis’ body at sea, off the California coast. The Beach Boys released a statement shortly thereafter, elegizing “We know Dennis would have wanted to continue in the tradition of the Beach Boys. His spirit will remain in our music.”[25] His song “Farewell My Friend” was played at the funeral.[26]

Dennis’s widow, Shawn Love, reported that Dennis had wanted a burial at sea, while brothers Carl and Brian did not want Dennis cremated.[25] As non-veterans of the Coast Guard and Navy are not allowed to be buried at sea unless cremated, Dennis’s burial was made possible by the intervention of President Reagan.[27] In 2002, Brian expressed unhappiness with the arrangement, believing that Dennis should have been given a traditional burial.[28]

 

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Brad Pitt’s Powerful Marriage Advice Will Melt Your Heart

Brad Pitt’s Powerful Marriage Advice Will Melt Your Heart

Speaking from the height of his experience, Brad Pitt offers you several powerful tips on how to build a strong marriage, and always keep the flame of love and passion alive. Sadly, his marriage ended. After 11 years of happy (or we only thought so) life with Angelina Jolie, something went wrong. What exactly? Now you can find out and don’t make the same mistakes!

Here are 18 tips from a man who has been married and knows what he is talking about.

“Obviously, I’m not a relationship expert. I would have done differently… After losing a woman that I loved, and a marriage of almost 11 years, here’s the advice I wish I would have had:

1.Never stop taking care of your wife.

Never take her presence in your life for granted. You have received the heart of your wife as a gift from life. This is the most valuable treasure that someone could entrust to you. Take care of your wife’s heart. It caresses her love. Do not be lazy when it comes to showing your feelings to your beloved.

2.Protect your own heart.

Love yourself too, accept life as it is. Leave a place in the heart where nobody can access except your wife. Let that intimate corner belong to her alone.

3.Fall in love with your wife again and again.

Inevitably both of you will change eventually. You will not be the same ones who fell in love ten years ago. Hence, you will have to fall in love again with each other.

She has no obligation to stay with you forever. If you ignore her, she will give her heart to someone else. You will lose it forever. Look at it as if it were your first date!

4.Focus on her best qualities.

Do not concentrate on her flaws. Pay more attention to her virtues, so that your love does not fade away. Remember: you are a happy man if you have a wife like her.

5.Do not try to change her!

Love her for what she is. Even if she changes, try to love her new personality, whether you like it or not.

6.Take responsibility…

…for the state of mind in which you find yourself. Being happy is not just her job. You must also make an effort to make sure that you are full of happiness, joy, and love.\

7.Never accuse your wife if…

You are angry or upset with her. They are YOUR emotions and YOUR responsibility. You chose this woman because you have to go through certain life lessons with her and solve scenarios that will help you heal.

8.Just stay with her.

When you are sad or upset, your task is to SUPPORT her, to let her know that everything is alright, that you listen to her, that you are a shoulder that she can always lean on.

The soul of a woman is a storehouse of emotions that are modified by the slightest blow of the wind. Stay unwavering and strong, do not judge her, and do not try to solve her problem, just stay close. Then she will trust you and open her soul…

9.Do not be so serious or hard.

Laugh more often, not just to other people’s jokes, but to yourself as well. Make her laugh as laughter can facilitate the solving of any kind of problem.

Study the personality of your woman: ask her to make a list of the 10 THINGS that make her feel loved. Remember these things and consult this list in your daily life. The crucial thing is to let her feel like a queen.

10.Give her enough attention.

When you are with her, do not think about anything else. Treat her as your client, your passenger, and your most valuable friend.

11.Do not be an idiot.

You will make many mistakes. It is important that you both learn and not repeat them in the future. Of course, you’re not a perfect man, just try not to disappoint her so often.

12.She must have her own space.

A woman gives everything without resting in relationships, marriage, and children. So she needs time and a little personal space to regain her strength. After a good rest and time alone with herself, she will return with even more energy and inspiration.

13.Be open about your vulnerability…

Prepare to share your fears and feelings with your wife, learn to admit your own mistakes.

14.Always be honest with her!

If you want to earn your wife’s trust, be ready to share EVERYTHING with her… Especially that which you have been hiding for a long time. It takes a lot of courage to fully open your heart to your loved one and let her look in the most hidden places.

Show this courage and she will love you even more for it. Take off that mask, otherwise, you will never experience love completely.

15.Grow with your wife!

Under a still stone, the water does not flow. Your muscles atrophy if you do not use them. The same goes for relationships if you do not work on them. Find your goals and get close to them with your beloved.

16.Do not worry too much about money.

Money comes and goes. Remember: you play on the same team. They do not have to face each other. To win, combine your strength and do not compete for the final prize.

17.Do not keep resentments inside of you.

Do not let the past influence your future. Do not be a hostage of resentment and past mistakes. Do not carry this burden with yourself. It will not let you advance, it can only block you from maturing. Also, do not hold any negative feelings, always choose love before anything else.

18.Always choose love!

After all, this is the only advice you really have to learn. Nothing will threaten your happiness if you adhere to this principle.

Marriage is not a happy ending, but the beginning of hard work. Marriage is life itself, with all its ups and downs. Every day you need to fall in love again, keep building your relationship, brick by brick.

Do you have anything to add to this list? Do you share Brad Pitt’s opinion on marriage?

 

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