Thom

People… in #monochrome.

#Photography #MonochromePhotography #BlackAndWhitePhotography #CityPhotography #FujiFilm #FujiFilmXT5 #HumansOfBlueSky #PhotographersOfBlueSky

Graffiti that says “The Rich are a luxury we cannot afford”

UK citizens, you know what to do. Make your feeling known to your local MPs and make it clear that there will be consequences at the next GE.

Blue skies, golden sands, #BamburghBeach...

#Photography #BeachPhotography #LandscapePhotography #FujiFilm #FujiFilmXT5 #PhotographersOfBlueSky

It’s a good thing Congress isn’t alive to see this....

This is amazing.

www.getyourfuckingmoneyback.com

Beneath a blood-red sky...

#Photography #BeachPhotography #LandscapePhotography #FujiFilm #FujiFilmXT5 #PhotographersOfBlueSky

Today I'm #writing whilst listening to #TheMountain & my immediate impression is that this might well be my favourite #Gorillaz album since Plastic Beach.

#WritingCommunity #MusicSky

Super important that no one provokes them into doing the thing they are already doing.

Where? Have you found an uninhabited island somewhere?

Hillary Clinton’s fire and fury opening statement to the House Oversight Committee.

Proud to be connected to this one, the brainchild of Will Christopher Baer with the collective work from a host of other writers... there's some good blood in here.

Hardcover copies of the three books in the Phineas Poe trilogy: Kiss Me, Judas; Penny Dreadful; Hell's Half Acre

a.b.w.c.b.p.

(always be will christopher baer posting)

#booksky

I've just subscribed via the form... Is that it? I assume we'll get a notification when it's available for preorder?

one. I MUST BE DEAD for there is nothing but blue snow and the furious silence of a gunshot. Two birds crash blindly against the glass surface of a lake. I'm cold, religiously cold. The birds burst from the water, their wings like silver. One has a fish twisting in its grip. The other dives again and now I hold my breath. Now the snow has stopped and the sky is endless and white and I'm so cold I must have left my body. I drift down an elevator shaft to the hotel lobby. I see myself walking across a gold carpet. Time is slowed to a crawl and I'm looking through a filter but it's me. The familiar skull shaved to stubble and the eyes like shadows. The gray skin pulled tight on my face and my hands flashing white as if cut from paper. I wear a black suit and tie and a dirty white shirt. The clothes hang loose, as if borrowed. The truth is I am losing weight. I look like I'm dying of cancer. I stop and turn a slow circle. I think I'm looking for the bar. The prick of nausea. Someone else is watching me. A woman in a red dress. She sits in a leather armchair, long legs crossed and yellow. She has long black hair streaked with blond. Her lips part slightly and I can see her teeth. I pass behind a marble column and disappear. I slip inside myself again and I can hear the sound of a piano. I sit at the bar and order vodka. Vodka how? the man says.

Daer I don't know. With a lemon and some ice. He brings me a glass. I sip it and feel better. The woman in red sits down beside me. She is younger than I thought. It's been too long since I sat so close to a woman and my first impulse is to move away. I loosen my tie and look at her. She has a scar at the edge of her mouth and disturbing eyes. She doesn't seem to blink. Her body is like a knife. A dull black stone, shaped like a teardrop, dangles from a string of silver in the cold hollow of flesh above her collarbone. Are you a tourist? she says. I'm not even sure what city this is. Denver. I'm a salesman. That's funny. You look like a cop. I've just been released from a mental hospital. Perfect, she says. I finish my drink and push it aside. She dips two fingers into the glass and I see her nails are painted blue. She fishes out the twist of lemon and eats the pulp. I turn my head slightly and her face is two inches from mine. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. I breathe her dead air. You must be a terrible salesman, she says. I am. Do you want to buy me a drink? I'm not dead. Terribly cold but my eyes are open. I'm staring directly into a white overhead light and when I close my eyes I still see it, as if the white is burned into my brain. I try to take shallow breaths. I'm in a bathtub. I'm naked and the tub seems to be filled with glass. I don't think I'm bleeding. I'm fine, really. The glass is smooth and somehow comforting. There's a strange tickle down my left side, below the ribs. I want to scratch it but I can't move my arms. She says her name is Jude. What are you drinking? Silly question. Tequila sunrise, she says.

kiss me, judas Why is it silly? Look around. It's island night. I swivel on my stool. The waitresses are barefoot and wear plastic flowers in their hair. They serve multicolored drinks that sport happy little umbrellas like hats. On the dance floor are belly dancers cut from card-board. Surf music drones in the distance. The dancers, I say. What about them? They're not real. She laughs. You are clever. The bartender brings us a glowing pitcher of tequila sunrises and two tall glasses. I drink cautiously from mine. It tastes like children's vitamins. Jude drinks hers with a straw. I used to be a dancer, she says. I was thirteen and I wanted to be famous. How sad. Don't you want to be famous? No. She gazes at me, her mouth crooked. There's something wrong with you, she says. I stare down at my limp body. Wet black hairs against the white skin of my torso. The genitals shrunken as those of a corpse. The scar of a bullet on my left thigh like the mouth of an unborn twin. My knees blue with cold. What I thought was glass is in fact ice, and it has a familiar smell. The trapped air of a hospital, a morgue. Disinfectant or formaldehyde. The ice is red but I don't see a wound. The tequila is gone and by now I have one hand well up Jude's dress. She has swimmer's muscles and goose bumps along her thigh and she is so sweet and lovely I might weep. Do you want to go upstairs? Oh, yes. I pat my pockets but can't find my key. Room 411, she says. A key dangles between her blue nails. That's my key. 7

will christopher baer Of course it is. I try to fondle her in the elevator but she isn't having it. This is going to cost you two hundred, she says. The elevator stops at the second floor but no one gets on. Do you have two hundred? I'm sure I do. The elevator rises, groaning. She stares at the floor. What's wrong with you? she says. My reflection in the mirrored doors is shadowy, grotesque. I must look like a corpse to her. Why don't you want to be famous? I'm terrified of crowds. In the room she drops her purse on the bed. It's square and black, oddly like a doctor's bag. It looks heavy. Jude pulls her dress over her head. There is a strange tattoo between her shoulder blades: a third eye, staring at me. I fumble through my wallet and come up with a wad of bills I can't bear to count and a decayed-looking condom. She takes the cash and puts it in her shoe. I try to tear open the condom and she takes it away. Don't you worry about disease? I never worry, she says. A stranger's blood can kill you. It's okay, she says. I'm sure your blood is clean. She puts her arms around me and finds the gun clipped to my belt. She holds it up with a smile and I shrug. She already has my money. She tosses the gun aside and says, you don't need it. I push her to the floor and she surprises me with a tender kiss on the mouth. I'm awake. Shivering so badly I have to lock my teeth to keep from biting off my tongue. The ice has melted and the water feels oily, like mucus. There's a complimentary bathrobe hanging from a hook behind the door, less than three feet away. It looks warm and soft and I can't move. I can't move. I don't think I can sleep anymore. I have been asleep in the ice for a day, for two days. In my left hand is a piece of paper. Black ink in round girlish script. 8

'kiss me, judas' by will christopher baer

noir girlies it is essential you read some will christopher baer. every page or so there is a line i would die to write. 'kiss me, judas' may have my fav opening paragraph in all u.s. fiction. i think it is Perfect

Will Christopher Baer is one of my favourite writers and the Kiss Me Judas trilogy is weird, beautiful, and brutal.

And I agree, the opening to Judas is just perfect.

Manchester… in #monochrome.

#MonochromeMonday #MonochromePhotography #Photography #BlackAndWhitePhotography #PhotographersOfBlueSky

Normalize laughing derisively in men's faces when they deserve it.

Chuck Schumer?

Boom.

Where the sand meets the sky...

#Thailand #KhaoLak #Photography #LandscapePhotography #FujiFilm #FujiFilmXT5 #PhotographersOfBlueSky

Papal burn 🔥

I'm listening to White Feather Hawk Tail Deer Hunter on loop while writing my #wip... And it turns out that Southern Gothic Romance is the perfect vibe.

#LDR #LanaDelRey #WritingCommunity #WritersOfBlueSky #MusicSky

Happy Saturday. This is #Manchester.

#Photography #UrbanPhotography #CityPhotography #FujiFilm #FujiFilmXT5 #PhotographersOfBlueSky

😕

YouTube video by NirvanaVEVO Nirvana - The Man Who Sold The World (MTV Unplugged)

Happy 59th Birthday, Kurt...

An old comic style of a woman looking out her window at a city skyline. The bubble says, “What a stupid time to be alive.”

My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man.

Trump Suffers Setback Unrelated To Child Rape

Trump Suffers Setback Unrelated To Child Rape

I think his performance as Toller in First Reformed was incredible - he should have got an Oscar nom for that.

His John Brown in The Good Lord Bird was also very, very good imo.

My best guess:
- fans from some countries being banned
- the threat of fans who do go being intimidated and arrested by ICE
- the fact Trump is a rapist paedophile and warmonger who FIFA gave a peace prize too?! 🤮
#WorldCupBoycott