Today's Document
AnasAbdin
Claire Keane
trying on a metaphor
Peter Solarz
hello vonnie


❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
almost home
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

izzy's playlists!

shark vs the universe
will byers stan first human second
Sweet Seals For You, Always
styofa doing anything

seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Egypt
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Colombia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Luxembourg

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from Indonesia

seen from Australia
@misterzappa

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“I’ll do anything you say, Frank” — Lana, 1973 *personals do not reblog
I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY FRANK

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hello, boys and girls. If you're looking for some serious FUNK this morning, tune in...
˚₊✩‧₊ starter for @misterzappa
Though quiet, Cho had a venturing spirit that often waited to be kindled. More often than not she knew better; and despite opting to take the high road, she didn’t––certainly not now. Ever since her mother had separated from her father, she had gained more liberty. Despite being twenty-two, her usual responsibilities at home restrained her. Therefore it wasn’t often she reigned forth to experience, but every time left her with an everlasting imprint, so the young girl was no stranger to the seeking of adventure. She’d been wandering alone by the soda stands when a pretty female approached her. They talked, and shared some laughs. Simple conversation points, like ‘how did you enjoy the show?’. Maybe what had attracted her initially to prompt a conversation with this woman was her lack of clothing despite the freezing temperature. Osaka winters were always very brutal, especially this time a night. Her figure was hardly visible, but the dim light on her face from the cigarette intrigued Cho, and she followed her without much information like her name. Maybe she should’ve been nervous, hearing male voices from outside the camped trailer where she was being led, but she wasn’t. In fact, Cho was excited. On the rarest of opportunities this happened, and she wasn’t sure who’d she’d be met with. There wasn’t much in her hand, except her phone and her keys with a Doraemon chain that she quickly put away in the jacket of her blazer once they reached inside. She was so curious, she thought, to how life in such a small vehicle was she’d almost forgotten where she was for a moment. Quietly she followed the woman’s lead, waiting for the right moment for her to strike up and say hello.
after their live show in osaka, rather than fucking off to their own individual hotel rooms for the night frank and his band the mothers took to the eccentric little trailer of their even more eccentric self-proclaimed tour guide and fan from the beginning of it all, a five-foot-nothing, hip-to-the-whole-hippie-scene japanese man with long hair braided down his waist. funnily enough, with his wacky appearance he fit in with the rest of the crew seamlessly and could have been mistaken for a member himself. he sat atop the counter of his trailer while he preached in near-perfect english about where to find drugs in japan and expressed his shame in not having anything on him. the gang would have ventured out into the cold of the night for some if it weren’t for frank's word and they all knew damn well that frank’s word was final: no drugs. he was terribly afraid of the varying drug laws from country to country and ordered no drug taking during their two-night stay on account of jail ruining the tour. what they were allowed to do, however, was drink their body weight in sake as long as they could hold themselves accountable for their state of being tomorrow and they had it in them to perform the next night. so, with frank’s permission, the mothers and their roadies carried on drinking and being outrageous, all sequestered within the confines of a little trailer. another luxury the tour guide spoke of was the brothels, which certainly piqued frank's interest, but with girls wandering in and out of the trailer he hardly had to look far at all. one girl who didn't speak a word of english moseyed on over to the couch where frank was sitting comfortably and hurdled herself over that language barrier by rolling up her woolen skirt to show him, first off, the fact that she hadn't been wearing any underwear, and second, a tattoo of a poorly-rendered japanese cartoon character tattooed on her left ass cheek. this amused frank, who smiled beneath his huge mustache and reached out to give it a pinch. she squeaked and ran out of the trailer like it had been a dare, straight past the other two girls who had arrived. before either of them could say anything, frank pointed to a pack of winston’s and his lighter he left on the counter. “do you mind grabbing that for me?” he asked, whether they understood him or not.
“I’ll do anything you say, Frank” — Lana, 1973 *personals do not reblog

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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this is your friendly easter reminder that frank loves groupies—so who wants to come by and form his groupie entourage?
Frank Zappa | Watermelon in Easter Hay
CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER This is the CENTRAL SCRUTINIZER. Joe has just worked himself into an imaginary frenzy during the fade-out of his imaginary song. He begins to feel depressed now. He knows the end is near. He has realized at last that imaginary guitar notes and imaginary vocals exist only in the mind of the imaginer. And ultimately, who gives a fuck anyway?! Excuse me. Who gives a fuck anyway? So he goes back to his ugly little room and quietly dreams his last imaginary guitar solo.
The GTO’s in 1966
Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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the advertisement read:
DO YOU HAVE A GOOD HORROR FILM SCREAM AND ARE YOU WILLING TO EXERCISE THAT TALENT OF YOURS BEHIND A MUSICAL COMPOSITION?
and those that were willing were to report to a giant log cabin situated among the tall trees in laurel canyon of the hollywood hills between the hours of 6 and 10PM. to minimize the attendance of people with potential ulterior motives and to maximize genuine interest, the name ‘frank zappa’ was completely left out of the ad. arriving at the door to greet the auditionees was a skinny girl with clown-like eye makeup and a huge smile on her face. "you're here for mr. z?”, she’d ask, “sure! come on in!" and she’d roll out her wrist for her fluffy-sleeved hand to be taken. they would be led by the girl through the vast, semi-dilapidated living room of zany-looking humans strung over furniture — a musician here (mick jagger with his lovely company marianne faithfull), a film producer there, a couple of groupies (the girl group girl’s together outrageously), and some people frank definitely didn't know doing something he definitely didn't condone in front of the fireplace. a handful of that crowd clapped their hands in applause for the newcomer's appearance. they would then be led down the stairs to the otherwise off-limits basement-turned recording studio where “the magic” really happened: where the magic usually happened, if it weren’t for frank’s patience running incredibly thin. he had plans for their album to be finished by the end of the year but had little faith in seeing it through to completion by its desired date due to his current line up of musicians’ inability to read music. though the end result was always brilliant, teaching each member of the band ten bars at a time proved to be no easy feat and if he’d have known he’d be spending his entire evening babying, he’d have went upstairs to baby his own damn baby. all he could do was chain smoke, chain chug (coffee) and pray that whoever came by for the part at least knew how to count. there was a make-shift waiting room set up outside of the basement studio door with two chairs, a small table, and ashtray to soothe your nerves. behind the glass stood the tall, mustached conductor with his black hair tied back and several other musicians sitting or standing around with all kinds of different instruments in their hands. frank had his right hand up in the air, swinging up, down, left and right in tight increments as he conducted his great musical vision, but upon his assistant entering the waiting room he turned his head around, shot daggers her way with his sharp, unforgiving gaze and, while not missing a single beat with his right hand, motioned for her to 'stop' with his left. the girl smiled sheepishly and visibly cowered, turning to her client. “hhh-he’ll be right with you,” she said, patting their shoulder. “good luck in there,” and she scurried up the stairs, leaving them to their own devices.
@aristarliing