LAWNDALE – The 312 Magee Avenue Playlist

The Lawndale book is just one week away from being published!

While writing the Lawndale book I started to think about all of the music we listened to growing up in the house on 312 Magee.

There was always some sort of music playing somewhere in the house at any given time. Whether it was my mom listening to Andy Williams on the record player in the dining room while she did her housework, or us kids listening to our records.

My father always loved music and would listen to classical and operas in the basement while he worked or read his books.

We had the jukebox on the porch that had been loaned to us by a couple that my dad was friends with and we loved that thing!

There was the the 8-track player in the 1969 VW minibus that we all rocked out to on trips on the road with dad.

We listened to the radio in the kitchen and would hear all the new popular songs of the day.

I would sometimes bring a little record player to the dinner table and sit it on the seat next to me. My dad wasn’t home, and it would be just my mom and my sisters. I would put little 45 rpm records on and we would all sing to them. It was a riot!

I got into listening to some of my favorite songs and bands recently on Spotify and thought about creating a playlist of all the music we heard in our house growing up as kids. Not just the music we owned, but all the theme songs from our favorite shows that were on TV in the 60s and 70s.

At first I thought it would be cool to share it with my sisters for nostalgic reasons. But then I thought, wouldn’t it be great to share it with all of the people who might remember some of these songs from their past as well.

So I’ve decided to add to the anticipation of the Lawndale book coming out next week and share it with everybody as a soundtrack to the book.

Some of the songs you may not recognize but some will make you smile and take you back to a simpler time. This is an eclectic mix of music and themes from the 60s and 70s that were alive in our house at 312 Magee growing up.

I hope you enjoy it, and maybe you’ll listen to it in the background while reading my book! (Don’t worry if you don’t have a Spotify account. It’s free and you can just go on and check it out!)

Here it is! The 312 Magee soundtrack!

https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5nQ0QYz4dBIphiU7hiIZR4?utm_source=generator

I hope you all enjoy listening to this as much as I enjoyed putting it together. I’d also be happy to add any songs I may have forgotten!

Enjoy!

LAWNDALE the book will be available on Amazon next Tuesday on August 9th!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please like, comment, and most of all, FOLLOW Phicklephilly! I publish every week on Tuesdays.

Wildwood Daze – Botto’s and the Office

North Wildwood, New Jersey – Late 1970s

Botto’s

One of our favorite hangouts growing up at the shore was the beloved Botto’s Arcade at 10th and Surf Avenue. It was 2 blocks from our house and was a meeting place for the local kids.

In the first half of the decade, it was a small market full of food staples, sundries, and beach stuff. It’s where we used to go to buy our kites and string. But because Russo’s Market at 9th and Ocean was such a juggernaut and go-to spot they sort of ran Joe Botto out of business. Just geographic competition. Botto, a retired Philly cop, was never happy about that, but shifted gears and turned it into an arcade much to the joy of the neighborhood youth.

Botto’s had everything we needed for an enjoyable afternoon or evening as an alternative to the beach and boardwalk. A phonebooth outside in case you had to drop a dime and make a call, and a soda machine full of ice-cold beverages stood out front. Joe’s wife normally worked during the day, giving out change for the machines inside and operating the bike rental part of the business.

The place was small, but just the right size for us kids. A regulation-sized, slate pool table in the center of the room, and a thunderous jukebox packed with 45’s of all the hits of the day parked against the front wall near the entrance. (It played A and B sides! This way, I could listen to Walk this Way and Uncle Salty!)

All around the perimeter of the room were pinball machines and video games. My favorite pinball machine, Flash was where I spent most of my time and quarters. They had some of the greats… Eight Ball Deluxe, Gorgar, Wizard, Playboy, El Dorado, and Joker Poker, to name a few.

But, they had all the classic video games of the day in there too. Space Invaders, Pac-Man, Super Breakout, and Asteroids.

Botto’s was a place where teenagers could hang out, play games, chat, flirt, shoot pool, drink soda and smoke cigarettes. The owners were cool, and there was never any trouble there. I’ve spent many a rainy day or health night in that arcade. The phrase “health night” came from my mother. She used to say to me, “You’re out every night! Take a health night!”

You never knew who you might run into while you were there, but it was always a solid meeting spot to hang and make plans for where you may be heading afterward. It was surrounded by motels so even though its core audience was kids from the neighborhood, they always got a few tourists in there as well.

Across the street was a place called Golf City. It was pretty much a waste of valuable real estate that was home to a miniature gold course. Fun for the little kids and they had a small arcade as well, but overall it was lame.

Botto’s was the cool kid’s place. I spent many wonderful times in Botto’s in my youth, but sadly it’s now long gone. What stands in its place now is an ice cream stand.

All that’s left to remind me of the original Botto’s in the brick face and the door and windows. So picture this place without the A-roof, the awning, the sign, the benches, the lights, and the rest of anything pink.

What’s left would be a pretty boring-looking spot. But, none of that was important. Botto’s was about what was inside. The people, the music, the games, and the laughter.

The Office

That’s not what it was called. It was a little game room on the third floor of The Flying Dutchman Motel.

Right there on the southwest corner of the 3rd floor!

The photo I used at the beginning of this post is the motel before they added the 3rd floor. But that’s what The Flying Dutchman looked like in the 70s.

We knew the owners and they were cool with us going up there to smoke cigarettes and spend our quarters on their vending machines in their game room.

The reason we called this little spot The Office, is because we used it not only as a place to hang out and play but to have meetings. If there was some local drama going down or some stories to be told, this was the place it all took place.

I remember trying to tell my older sister some convoluted story about some things that had gone down on Morey’s Pier or some other crazy news from the neighborhood one day. She was trying to understand what we planned to do about this matter and I simply said: “Office…now.”

We liked it because it was high up off the street. We had a view and also liked the games they had in there. Just two pinball machines and an old 1972 Pong machine. There’s a link I provided, but it was so basic it may have been the first video game ever invented. But a fun game! Pinball was still king, but video games were getting better with every coming season.

The biggest difference between this place and Botto’s was, this spot was quieter and more private. You could hang up there, sit at the card table they had set up in there, and just chat. It didn’t have the number of games and music that Botto’s had, but this was our spot. Most of all, it was unsupervised.

This is probably one of the most important aspects of this little game room.

I’ll let you in on a little secret. Pinball machines are designed so that you can’t rock them around too much or they’ll “Tilt.” What that means is, if you shake the machine too much or lift it up to slow the ball down or anything else to upset the machine while the ball is in play, it’ll light up, TILT, and the unit goes off and your ball drains down the hole. You’re done for being too rough with the unit and most of all trying to cheat.

But kids are creative, cunning, learning machines. You know that if the adults come up with some solution to thwart our fun or sustained play, we’ll probably work to come up with a solution to beat it.

So while the machine was on, we’d have one kid gently lift the lower front up off its legs and stack quarters under the legs, one or two at a time. This would flatten the play area on the board but not enough to TILT the machine. We’d get that baby up as high as possible. This would slow down the gameplay and go virtually unnoticed if someone walked in.

By applying this simple remedy, the game would be easier, you’d get a higher score and rack up more free games. That was the main goal. Free games! 

This also assisted with the legendary, “Back from the Dead.” What this meant was if you were in the middle of a game and the ball somehow got past your flippers, and towards the hole… if it was moving fast enough to bounce back out of the hole and back into play, it was always deemed a miracle, which was met with cheers from any onlookers. The ball literally came back from th dead!

So, we did that all the time up there.

Sometimes I would just go up there on my own and play pinball. I just wanted a little time alone to think and reflect on my life living at the seashore all summer. It was a brilliant and unforgettable few chapters from my young life.

Braces off, skin clear, and finally emerging from puberty!

Here’s a pic of me in 1978 on the 3rd-floor sun deck of The Flying Dutchman. The Office wasn’t just for pinball. It was also a great opportunity for me to meet the vacationing talent.

Pictured: Me with Ann and Gina Dougherty on the roof deck of the Flying Dutchman Motel -1978

Yea… tough times for Chaz in Wildwood!

If you liked this story, you’ll love my next book, Down The Shore, coming to a bookstore near you Memorial Day, 2023!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Tales of Rock: Man Accidentally Trips On LSD For 9 Hours After Cleaning A Classic Synthesizer

Eliot Curtis accidentally tripped on LSD while fixing a vintage Buchla Model 100. He was tasked to repair a piece of history, but he didn’t expect to begin seeing history and time in front of him as tripped on acid. With his experience, he added another story to the history of the synthesizer, and it’s probably a good idea to making cleaning old equipment with gloves on a standard procedure.

The Buchla Model 100 was invented in the 1960s by Don Buchla of Berkeley. He completely immersed himself in counterculture, and in 1966, his synthesizers were put on a school bus converted to play music. The iconic bus of counterculture, Furthur, was purchased by Ken Kesey, an advocate for using acid. Among their crew was Owsley Stanley, a sound engineer and manufacturer of a potent strain of LSD. While these links can explain how the drug could’ve gotten on the synthesizer, it’s still unclear exactly how the LSD got on this specific one.

Curtis, the Broadcast Operations Manager for KPIX Televsion, was tasked with repairing the vintage analog music modular instrument they found in a closet at Cal State University East Bay’s music department. It was acquired by two music professors who taught in the university during the 1960s. During his repair, Curtis found something stuck under one of the knobs, and it appeared to be a crystal. He sprayed cleaning solvent on the residue to dissolve it a little bit, then he dislodged it from the knob to continue cleaning the area.

45 minutes later, Curtis began to feel strange tingling sensations. He speculated that he was tripping on LSD but thought that’s probably just his imagination. His original inkling, however, was true. His unexpected LSD trip lasted around nine hours.

Authorities later confirmed that residues of LSD were present on the instrument. According to reports, the place the synthesizer was stored made it possible for the LSD to remain potent. The machine was resting in a cool, dark place, so the drug’s potency was preserved so well that it was possible for the residue to be ingested through the skin. With his unexpected trip, Curtis learned a lot more about the 1960s counterculture than he could have ever imagined.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

My new book, Angel with a Broken Wing is now for sale on Amazon!

 

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Listen to the Phicklephilly podcast LIVE on Spotify!

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly    Twitter: @phicklephilly

Tales of Rock: The Night Rob Halford Saved Black Sabbath

When Metal Legends Collide…

In November 1992, Ozzy Osbourne was about to wrap up his supposedly final concert tour in support of the massively successful No More Tears album. Two “farewell” shows were scheduled at the Pacific Amphitheatre in Costa Mesa, California.

To make these “retirement” concerts into an even bigger must-see event, the Osbourne camp reached out to Ozzy’s former band, Black Sabbath, with an offer to open the Costa Mesa shows. At the time, Sabbath was touring in support of 1992’s Dehumanizer album, which featured the return of vocalist Ronnie James Dio—the man who’d replaced Ozzy in Sabbath in 1980. Everybody thought this was a fabulous idea—except for Dio, who suspected that the invite was merely a back-door method to plant the seeds for a full fledged Sabbath/Ozzy reunion. Dio refused to do the shows and announced that he was leaving Black Sabbath for the second time.

No, sorry. I have more pride than that. A lot of bad things were being said from camp to camp, and it created this horrible schism. So, by them agreeing to play the shows in LA with Ozzy, that, to me, spelled out ‘reunion with Ozzy.’ And that obviously meant the end of our particular project.

— Ronnie James Dio

Various bootlegs of the Costa Mesa gigs. Note that the one on the top right says "with Rob Ralford." Ha!
Various bootlegs of the Costa Mesa gigs. Note that the one on the top right says “with Rob Ralford.” Ha! | Source

Enter Halford

In desperation, Sabbath’s Tony Iommi reached out to a fellow son of Birmingham to replace Dio for the two gigs: Rob Halford of Judas Priest fame. Rob was a free agent at the time, having split from Priest the previous year. He was also a massive Black Sabbath fan, so naturally he jumped at the chance to be their temporary front man. Legend has it that Rob only had two days to familiarize himself with Sabbath’s set list prior to the gigs.

Metal news traveled slower in those pre-internet days, so I imagine much of the audience in Costa Mesa must have been quite surprised to see Rob Halford take the stage with Sabbath on November 14th, 1992. By all accounts, the Metal God absolutely killed it, in spite of the short amount of prep time.

I’m sure that the bootleggers who were already there in force to capture Ozzy’s “last shows” on tape must have been absolutely thrilled to get the Halford/Sabbath combo as an added bonus. Their grainy VHS videos and scratchy audio recordings of the two gigs immediately became popular items in trading circles. For a brief time after the Costa Mesa shows, rumors circulated that Halford might be joining Black Sabbath full time, but obviously that never came to pass.

Night #1, Nov. 14, 1992 (Full Set)

Call for the Priest…

I own a CD of the second night’s show on November 15th (entitled The Priest Comes to the Sabbath), which seems to be the more common of the two nights available via bootleg. It’s obviously an audience recording (occasionally someone yells out “YEEEAAAAHHH!” or “WOOOOOO!” close to the recorder/mic and drowns out the music!) and unfortunately it’s missing the first song of the set (“The Mob Rules”), but aside from that it’s a decent quality recording of an amazing night in Heavy Metal history. Rob’s lack of rehearsal is most obvious during “Children of the Grave,” when he comes in at the wrong time and then has to repeat the first line of the song a moment later (whoops!). However, he quickly redeems himself with a fine rendition of Heaven and Hell‘s “Children of the Sea” (one of my all time favorite Sabbath tracks).

As the set goes on, I’d say that Rob’s singing style is better suited to the Dio era songs like “Neon Knights” and “Heaven and Hell,” but on the other hand, he does turn in some killer performances of Ozzy-era classics too, especially “N.I.B.” and “Into the Void.”

The crowd is clearly having a blast throughout the set, and it sounds like Rob himself is pretty damn jazzed to be singing for one of his favorite bands, too. I guess even Metal Gods can still have fanboy moments!

Night #2—November 15, 1992 (Full Set)

The Aftermath

Ozzy’s planned “retirement” didn’t last long. He was back out on the road again only a few years after the Costa Mesa shows, and Black Sabbath kept on truckin’ as well. Their paths frequently crossed with Ozzy’s during the late 90s at the man’s annual OzzFest attractions. Sabbath also managed to mend fences with the estranged Ronnie James Dio, releasing 2009’s The Devil You Know album with him (under the moniker “Heaven & Hell”) before Ronnie’s tragic death in 2010. A full fledged Ozzy/Sabbath reunion resulted in the 13 album, released in 2013, and a farewell tour.

Rob Halford spent the rest of the ’90s dabbling in street-level groove metal with his solo project Fight and electronic rock with the band “Two.” He returned to Priest style traditional metal with his Halford solo band before he rejoined Judas Priest in 2004.

Amazingly, Halford’s association with Black Sabbath wasn’t quite over yet. Judas Priest was taking part in the 2004 OzzFest tour, headlined by an Ozzy-fronted Black Sabbath, when Ozzy came down with a bout of bronchitis at the Camden, New Jersey date. Rob was asked to step in for Sabbath once again, and even though he had already performed a full set with Judas Priest that day, he was still able to belt out an additional set of classics with Sabbath that night! “Iron Man” indeed!

“Paranoid” With Rob Halford—2004

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

My new book, Angel with a Broken Wing is now on sale at Amazon!

Listen to the Phicklephilly podcast LIVE on Spotify!

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly    Twitter: @phicklephilly

Tales of Rock: Meet Connie Hamzy — Rock And Roll’s “Most Notorious Groupie” And Bill Clinton’s First Sex Scandal

There was one drummer who got away, though. “I haven’t had Neal Peart. That I regret,” she said.

“Sweet” Connie Hamzy Parente (born January 9, 1955), also called “Sweet Sweet” Connie or Connie Flowers, is an American woman who is known as a groupie who claims to have had sex with numerous rock musicians. Hamzy also received some attention for her claim that she was propositioned by Bill Clinton, then governor of Arkansas.

Connie Hamzy Parente
Born
Connie Parente

January 9, 1955(age 64)

Little Rock, Arkansas
Occupation Media personality, groupie

She is mentioned in Grand Funk Railroad’s song “We’re an American Band” (“Sweet, sweet Connie, doin’ her act/ She had the whole show and that’s a natural fact.”)

Hamzy personally claims to have given oral sex to various members of the many bands that have traveled through Little Rock. Her alleged groupie escapades were detailed in a Cosmopolitan profile in 1974, and in 1992 she wrote a tell-all article for Penthouse.

In 1991, Hamzy was briefly in the news due to her claim that, in 1984, she had been approached by an Arkansas state trooper on behalf of Bill Clinton. She claimed that she and Clinton had looked for “a place where they could have some privacy for an assignation, but couldn’t find one.” George Stephanopoulos later recounted that Clinton told him a different story of his meeting with Hamzy. According to Clinton, Hamzy had approached him in a hotel lobby, flipped down her bikini top, and asked him, “What do you think of these?” Stephanopoulos secured affidavits from three people who had been accompanying Clinton and confirmed Clinton’s recollection. When asked about Hamzy by reporters, Stephanopoulos responded by denying the story off the record and offering to provide the affidavits, also off the record. Although CNN Headline News reported Hamzy’s allegations once, neither CNN nor other mainstream news organizations pursued the story further.[2]

Hamzy published a memoir in 1995 under the title Rock Groupie: The Intimate Adventures of “Sweet Connie” from Little Rock.

In 1996, Hamzy sought to run as an independent for the United States House of Representatives from Arkansas’ 2nd congressional district, but ultimately did not appear on the general election ballot.

Hamzy was featured in a segment of the Insomniac with Dave Attell episode in Little Rock.

Image result for connie hamzy

She was also interviewed on the Howard Stern Show on December 4, 1991, and again on December 8, 2010

As long as there’s an American band around, Connie Hamzy will keep “doin’ her act.”

Connie Hamzy, born Jan. 9, 1955, in Little Rock, Ark., has collected several nicknames over the years. Some call her Connie Flowers, “Sweet” Connie Hamzy, “Sweet Sweet” Connie, or just simply “Sweet Sweet.” A prominent rock groupie, her celebrity status was solidified in two lines from the Grand Funk Railroad’s 1973 song, “We’re an American Band,” which became the group’s first number one single:

“Sweet, sweet Connie, doin’ her act
She had the whole show and that’s a natural fact.”

Connie Hamzy’s early escapades

Bands she was allegedly associated with include Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Bad Company, ZZ Top, and the Doobie Brothers. In 2005, Spin dubbed her“the world’s most notorious rock’n’roll groupie.” But she wasn’t just a 70s groupie. Hamzy was in it for the long haul.

Hamzy was only 15 years old when she was with her first rock star, the drummer for Steppenwolf, Jerry Edmonton. Then she moved onto to Keith Moon of The Who and John Bonham of Led Zeppelin.

Arkansas groupie claims she and Bill Clinton 'fondled each other ...

Drummers soon became her niche. “The drummers gravitated to me because they wanted to hear about John Bonham and Keith Moon,” she told Howard Stern in an interview. There was one drummer who got away, though. “I haven’t had Neal Peart. That I regret,” she said.

In the 1980s, while her fellow groupie comrades like Pamela Des Barres and Bebe Buell slowly drifted out of the scene to start families or write books about their wild exploits, Hamzy continued her groupie lifestyle into the 90s.

Connie Hamzy’s affair with politics

Connie Hamzy

In fact, some of the biggest waves she made came in 1991, shortly after Bill Clinton declared his candidacy for the presidential nomination. In a tell-all published by Penthouse magazine, Hamzy alleged that in 1984 she had an encounter with Clinton in a North Little Rock hotel while he was governor of Arkansas and married to Hillary Clinton. Hamzy said Bill spotted her while she was sunbathing by the hotel pool. The two of them went into the laundry room and fondled each other until they were abruptly interrupted.

Hamzy said that the incident fell on deaf ears. Political journalist George Stephanopoulos got affidavits from three individuals who said she approached Clinton and he rebuffed her. CNN picked up the story but dropped it after the affidavits were produced.

In 1995, she wrote a book titled Rock Groupie: The Intimate Adventures of “Sweet Connie” from Little Rock, but her love for rock stars didn’t stop. In her 2005 interview with Spin, when she was 50 years old, she told a story of a recent encounter with Neil Diamond while she was hanging on a tour bus.

Connie Hamzy - Alchetron, The Free Social Encyclopedia

“Then he gets high with us and disappears backstage. A few minutes later, his manager says he wants to see me in his dressing room. So I knock on the door, and there’s Neil waiting for me in a blue robe.”

It wasn’t an unlikely encounter, given that Hamzy was reportedly backstage at every Arkansas gig well into the new millennium. “She’s a legend in Little Rock,” said Chris King, owner of the local music venue Sticky Fingerz.

Howard asked if Connie ever felt insulted that the rockers just passed her around like a plate of potatoes. “Well, a plate of good potatoes,” she replied.

Connie Hamzy, now 63, was back in the news in October of 2016, when she rehashed the sexual episode with Bill Clinton. She took a polygraph test about the alleged Clinton scandal and mailed the results over to Donald Trump’s campaign, who she gave her full support to.

This is Connie now.

Image result for connie hamzy

“Rock and Roll devours it’s own young.”Phicklephilly

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Listen to Phicklephilly LIVE on Spotify!

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 7

The days crawled by. I saw just about everybody on the list in September, individually or in small groups. But it proved impossible to find an occasion when all 11 of us were free.

Finally, Thanksgiving weekend loomed. Leo and I both skipped off that Friday. We packed our overnight bags and the costumes in the backseat, along with some food supplies Teresa had asked us to pick up.

Then we went shopping for the booze. Everybody had given us their requests. We got six cases of beer (two-fours, in Canadian slang), and three cases of wine. I wasn’t sure that we had enough wine. Then we added a case of liquor. Most of it was rum, or flavoured rum, but there was also vodka, tequila, scotch, and even a bottle of peppermint schnapps (Leo was on a schnapps kick).

– “Schnapps?” I asked him. “For pirates?”

– “It won’t go to waste.” he said. “Just imagine that we’re sailing past some German island.”

As you can probably guess, geography and history weren’t Leo’s strong suits.

– “You psyched?” he asked me.

– “Just a little.” I admitted.

While he was rearranging things in the backseat, I saw that Leo had packed a box of 12 condoms in his overnight bag.

– “Somebody’s optimistic.” I commented.

– “Hey – Be Prepared. That’s my motto.”

– “You have about 100 mottos, Leo.” I said.

– “You can never have enough mottos.” he replied.

– “That’s 101.”

I didn’t kid him too much about the condoms. After all, I had packed a dozen of my own. I was hoping for an epic weekend, too.

 

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=262

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 3

Just before we got to her apartment, Teresa stopped, and pointed to a park bench.

“Can we sit here for a minute?” It was a lovely spot, opposite a pretty little park. The late summer day was bright and sunny, without the excessive humidity that had tortured us through the month of July. Yet I felt a sudden chill.

We sat down together. Teresa slowly swept her long hair back, and turned to face me.

“Colin, I have to tell you something.” she said. Normally, I’m a pretty optimistic guy, but those words sounded like the footsteps of doom. I swallowed, and nodded.

“I really, really appreciate your help with this.” she continued. “And I’m looking forward to seeing how it will all turn out. But I have to tell you now: this weekend won’t be about you and me. Do you understand?”

I didn’t understand at all, but I nodded as if I did. Teresa was watching me closely – did I mention that she was very bright?

“We aren’t going to be getting back together this weekend, Colin. I’m going to be very busy running the game, for one thing. And then there’s Lena to look after – she won’t know anybody else but me, at first. You could help me out there – be nice to her.”

“I want you to make this long weekend about you. Have fun. Solve the puzzles. Don’t spend your time flirting with me, or going out of your way to be helpful. You don’t have to try to impress me. I want you to just relax and enjoy yourself.”

“Flirt with the other women. Sleep with them.” Teresa saw the look of surprise in my eyes. “I mean it, Colin. We’ve always been frank with each other on that subject. I don’t want you to think about me romantically this weekend. Get drunk, if you want. Have a fling. Flings.”

– “This is one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had.” I said.

Teresa took me by the hand. “Colin, please. This is very important to me: tell me that you understand.”

– “I do. I get it.” I told her.

And I did understand. If I was busy chasing Teresa all weekend, trying to get back together with her, it would interfere with her running the murder mystery. It would also leave me frustrated; she was making it clear.

But I did say that I was an optimist. I understood something else very clearly: Teresa said that we weren’t ‘going to be getting back together this weekend‘. She also said that she didn’t want me to ‘think about her romantically this weekend‘.

Those were her exact words.

Why would she specifically say ‘this weekend’? Not once, but twice. She could have said that there was no chance of us getting back together, ever. Period. But she didn’t.

Which meant that there was hope for us yet.

We parted with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Then I went on my way. I waited until she was out of sight before I started to smile.

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=254

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: Phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly

A Unique Gift – Chapter 1

This is part one of a new series I want to write that mixes mind control with transformation elements. This is the first time I have written something primarily based on mind control and while this first part is very smut heavy later parts will have more focus on the mind control aspects for other purposes (as well as smut). I hope you enjoy and please give me feedback, it would really help!

*****

Jack sighed as he made his way to college. At nineteen he felt he should have more of a handle of his life than he did. He was stuck taking classes he didn’t enjoy and working a job he hated to pay for those classes. He had barely any friends and he hadn’t had sex in almost a year. Overall life was pretty dull. He sat down in his least favorite class, economics. Not only did he find the subject exceptionally boring it was taught by his least favorite teacher Miss Jameson.

She was extremely attractive and Jack, like most guys in the class, had grinned when they first saw her walk into their classroom. She was tall, just shy of six feet tall, with long legs, curved hips, a small waist and generously sized breasts. There had been quite the debate over whether they were D or DD. She didn’t just have the body, she had the face to match. She was very pretty with green eyes that was typical of someone with her red hair which she always wore in a neat bun.

Obviously with a teacher like that it was no surprise all the guys had been excited when they first saw her but it had been short lived. They had all soon realized she was a complete bitch. Always serious, always angry and always willing to berate her students for the most minor of transgressions. Jack had quickly learnt to keep his head down, keep quiet and stay under her radar. Which for the most part had worked. He folded his arms and rested them on his desk with his chin perched on top of them as she began her lecture.

She droned on and Jack felt himself getting sleepy as he listened. He wasn’t in the mood to take notes so instead he rested his head on his arms. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he suddenly heard someone shouting, loudly. He looked up to find the whole room staring at him and Miss Jameson seething with anger.

“I’m sorry am I boring you?” She asked.

“No sorry,” Jack apologized. This was the last thing he needed today.

“So what have I spent the last ten minutes talking about?” Miss Jameson asked. Jack tried to think, he looked at the clock and felt a pang of panic, he had been asleep for almost forty minutes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted to much smirking from his class mates.

“Come see me this evening, we need to have a talk about your performance in this class,” Miss Jameson clipped before turning to the rest of the room and continuing her class. Jack groaned, the last thing he wanted was to spend another hour with her at the end of the day. It wasn’t like detention like back in high school, no that was easy. Turn up, sit there for an hour, catch up on homework and leave. No this was worse. This was going to be an hour of being lectured and berated by the queen bitch.

By the time he got home Jack was exhausted. He made his way back to his house, which was a short drive from campus. It was the only time in his life he had ever been lucky. It was actually his sisters house, she was seven years older than him and seemed to be the lucky one of the family. She had graduated from the same college he was now attending and landed and extremely high paying job, which to Jacks fortune, meant she would be spending most of the next four years out of the country.

As such she had let Jack live in her house. It was close to the college and meant that she didn’t have to sell her house or worry about leaving it vacant for months at a time. So other than a few weekends here and there when she would be home, Jack had the house to himself. He unlocked the door and almost missed the small box someone had hidden behind the plant pot by the door. He picked it up, briefly wondering what was in the small package and went inside. He put the package down and made himself some dinner.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=80

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly      Facebook: phicklephilly   Twitter: @phicklephilly

Wildwood Daze – Dirty John – Part 2

Living at the shore always brings you to the beach. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is. If you live in a city you go meet up in a park or a bar. If you live at the shore when the shit hits the fan, you head to the beach.

I go home covered in puke and my mom is cool with the rock and roll lifestyle.

“Is Jim okay?” My mom was totally fine with my best friend/lead guitarist blowing chunks all over me.

I’m in a working rock and roll band, and we have had a an incident with our youngest underage member.

“I think he’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get your clothes into the washer.”

I loved that my mom was always on board to dispose of the evidence.

But I just loved that mom was ready TO make it all go away.

 

I hadn’t heard from Jim and prayed he was still alive

It was a real growing step in this new band and I was fearful about what could happen to us going forward.

I knew in that moment I would need to form a new band with Jim and we would have to go to LA but he liked music that wasn’t so so furious so I would miss my friend.

As much as I loved Jim and the band, I knew I needed to go to LA an create something new.

But I’ll hang here because I love you.

 

A day passed and I spend the day worried about my friend.

There were was no email or text social media back then. You either get a call or somebody shows up at your door.

I get a call on my land line from Jim.

It was 7pm.

24 hours after my best friend had lost his shit.

 

“What happened last night?”

“Lets meet up and I’ll tell you the full story.”

We meet up and Jim seems fine. He’s just young, and confused. Nothing like this has ever happened to him, and that has to be jarring.

Your first blackout can be frightening. I’ve been there many times and it never gets any easier. I never let it happen anymore. I totally manage my shit now.

 

I meet up with Jim and we go to the beach.

Living at the shore always brings you to the beach. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is. If you live in a city you go meet up in a park or a bar. If you live at the shore when the shit hits the fan, you head to the beach. There’s just something about the power of the sea and it’s timeless intimidating beauty.

It was night and off-season, and Jim and I were no strangers to wandering through this resort/retirement island community in the off season.

There was a beauty to Wildwood that no one knew that belonged to us. The natives.

As fucked as we were as teenagers in a resort community that didn’t own hotels and boardwalk stuff. We found our way.

Instead of falling into the usual drugs and teen pregnant rich kid boredom we had our band. We were going to break out of what everybody else was in this town. Usually rich kids from prosperous seasonal business owners. We were just regular dudes. Jim and I were tight.

I will be grateful my entire for life for meeting Jim. He is a wonderful man and father and husband. I just really dig him and wish I could see him more. Because we actually share something unseen that is really special and belongs to only us.

I miss him.

Wildwood in the off-season is quiet and dark.

If you live in a place that is away from city lights, you’ll understand what the sky looks like when you look upon it in a rural or remote area.

City light drown out the sky, and I live in Philly and I’ve seen all the skies I need to see, but let me describe what a night sky looks like when you’re away from city lights.

I was on the beach in Wildwood with my father one night. We were fishing.

He said, “Look at the sky, son.”

I of course did as he said.

“What do you see?”

“I see more stars than I’ve ever seen.”

“You can’t see that in Philly.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Then my dad said this…

“It’s like a thousand diamonds scattered on a velvet pillow.”

I loved him so much in that moment.

The beautiful, charming, elegant being he had become through all of his pain and suffering to raise me an my sisters into who we are today.

 

These thoughts fill my mind as I meet my best friend I’m glad isn’t dead like Bon Scott on the beach that evening.

There were umbrella stands on each block of the beach. They were these wooden boxes on legs that were used to store umbrella rentals during the summer, but were empty during the off-season.

Jim and I meet up and head to the beach.

I’m so happy to see him and I’m so happy he survived. I was so scared after the Dirty John incident and I know Jim hates when I tell the story, I was genuinely grateful he was okay. I love Jim and it was the first time I thought we’d have a rock and roll tragedy on my watch. I couldn’t lose him and I was scared the whole time.

We walked together along the shoreline.

People come to the shore and do their thing every summer and enjoy the beach. But what people forget is the mystery of how all life rose from the sea.

As my only friend and I walk along the shoreline, every step we take lights up around our feet.

There are iridescent animals that react to contact and illuminate when struck.

So imagine this people… Every step you take on a night beach, there are lights around your feet with every step you take.

Yea, the beach is so much more magical than you know.

We saw and experienced all of that.

I loved that we were in a band together. Rocking out and living our little dreams, but still be moved by the magic of life itself.

That’s why I always loved Jim. He was and will always be one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. A bright and beautiful artist who I had the honor to jam with and most of all have in my life as a friend. I miss him and think of him often.

 

We find an abandoned umbrella stand/hut and climb inside it.

The beach is completely desolate and there is no one around. There are no umbrellas so the boxes are open. Jim and I climb inside of the box and chill.

“What the fuck happened last night?”

I describe in great detail to my new lead guitarist what happened and he is appalled.

I tell him how I turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t end up like Hendrix or Bon Scott.

I think we’ve both learned from this experience. I love Jim so much that he can vomit on me anytime and we can still go forward and rock out!

He is and will always be one of my best friends in this world.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish everyday.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                           Facebook: Phicklephilly

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.”

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish everyday.

Instagram: @phicklephilly               Facebook: phicklephilly

%d bloggers like this: