Podcasts about friendless

In this very special episode of Friendless, your host James Avramenko sits down with Leandra Guillet. Together, they dive into the quirks of Vancouver life, from unpredictable weather and the city's mysterious moodiness to what it actually takes to find and foster community in a city full of "shelter cats."The conversation bounces (or "ADHD ping pongs") from the deep—human insecurity, the cyclical nature of history, and our collective need to be seen—to the delicious, like mourning cheese on a vegan journey and the surprisingly powerful life advice parents pass down about always layering up and never saying no to a meal.Along the way, expect musings on art history, the endless rhyming of cultural trends, the exhausting but ultimately rewarding pursuit of friendship, and why building community is, at the end of the day, your own responsibility.Read the Friendless Substack

This week on Friendless, I'm joined by two guests I've been genuinely honored to sit down with: Elder Larry Grant, Elder in Residence at the Justice Institute of BC and UBC's First Nations House of Learning, and an elder of both the Musqueam Indian Band and Vancouver's Chinese community — and his co-author Scott Steedman, writer, editor, and publishing professor at SFU. Together they wrote Reconciling, a book that maps Elder Larry's life not chronologically but geographically — Chinatown, Strathcona, Musqueam, the Fraser Valley — letting each place pull its own stories loose.We talk about growing up caught between two identities that were both, in different ways, denied to him. We talk about the specific, everyday mechanics of exclusion — the signs, the double standards, the small cruelties that build until they explode from somewhere inside you. We talk about his years of drinking and the two-beers-that-were-never-two-beers, and how getting sober became inseparable from learning to love and respect himself. And we talk about what reconciliation actually asks of a country that would rather it stayed on paper than stood as a monument you can't walk past.Reconciling is out now — grab a copy at Book Warehouse.Learn more about the Musqueam Indian Band• Email: friendlesspod@gmail.com• Substack: https://friendless.substack.com/• Instagram: @friendlesspod• TikTok: @friendlesspodCreate your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

Balerno 1830 - Aimee Roberton

Content Note: This episode discusses disordered eating. If you're in recovery or feeling vulnerable, please prioritise your well-being.This week on a very special episode of Friendless, host James Avramenko sits down with poet Brandi Bird for a deep dive into creativity, recovery, and self-discovery. The conversation explores the messy realities of writing and publishing poetry, the impact of external validation, and the importance of allowing time and distance between lived experience and creative transformation.Brandi discusses their own journey through eating disorder recovery and how it shapes their work, approaches to confessional writing, and the ways truth, persona, and vulnerability intersect in poetry. The two tackle topics such as perfectionism, the pressures of literary recognition, and the liberation found in writing for oneself rather than for approval.They also reflect on the power of oral tradition, stage presence, and shared first drafts, as well as the nuances of exploring difficult family relationships—particularly with mothers—within art. The conversation turns to broader issues including medical bigotry, Indigenous identity, community, and what it means to move beyond victimhood to agency.From pop culture to personal struggles, this episode is an honest, witty, and intimate look at the intersections of art, healing, and being unapologetically oneself.

Journalists and politicians are honouring Robert Fife, who retired after 48 years. Known for his big scoops, Fife leveraged anonymous sources to hold the powerful accountable. But Fife's brand of “access journalism” also runs the risk of being used as a political tool. Jan Wong joins Jesse Brown to explain why journalists shouldn't get too cozy with the politicians they cover. Host: Jesse BrownCredits: James Nicholson (Producer), Kallan Lyons (Associate Producer and Fact Checking), imogen sayers (Mixing and Mastering), Tristan Capacchione (Senior Production Supervisor), Jesse Brown (Editor)Guest: Jan WongPhoto: Mark BlevisAdditional music by Audio NetworkFurther reading: Ottawa mayor declares June 11 ‘Robert Fife Day' to honour veteran journalist - The Globe and Mail Robert Fife gives a candid account of some of the biggest stories and issues of his career - The Globe and MailRobert Fife — 2026 Hyman Solomon Award for Excellence in Public Policy Journalism Hear No Evil, Write No Lies | The Walrus Change is coming to Winkler, ralliers say as southern Manitoba city hosts 1st Pride march | CBC News Weston family-backed digital publication Be Giant launches - The Globe and Mail Sponsors:Fizz: Visit fizz.ca and activate a first plan using the referral code CAN40 to get 40$ off and 10GB of free data.Douglas: Douglas is giving our listeners a FREE Sleep Bundle with each mattress purchase. Get the sheets, pillows, mattress and pillow protectors FREE with your Douglas purchase today. Visit douglas.ca/canadaland to claim this offer.Shopify: Sign up for your one-dollar-per-month trial today at Shopify.ca If you value this podcast, Support us! You'll get premium access to all our shows ad free, including early releases and bonus content. You'll also get our exclusive newsletter, discounts on merch at our store, tickets to our live and virtual events, and more than anything, you'll be a part of the solution to Canada's journalism crisis, you'll be keeping our work free and accessible to everybody. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, your pal James Avramenko is joined by Charlie Demers. Charlie Demers is a comedian, broadcaster, author, and 20-year veteran of CBC's The Debaters — and somehow all of that is just the warm-up. Recorded live at Book Warehouse on Main Street, this conversation starts with his new Canadian lexicon book The A-Team (a celebration of the words and phrases that mark you as one of us), takes a hard left into French immersion class politics, and ends up somewhere genuinely surprising: what treaty actually means, why Canadian humor is tender instead of cruel, and what it looks like to love a country you have complicated feelings about.Along the way: house hippos, English muffins vs. french fries, the roast of Kevin Hart as a culture clash, and why writing to a word count might be the most freeing thing a writer can do.If you've ever said "toque" in the United States and watched a room go silent, this one's for you.Charlie's new children's picture book I Sure Do is out this summer from Trade Wind Books. Season 2 of Superteam Canada drops on Crave. Find him at charliedemers.com and on Instagram.

Senior Pastor Christopher Chia delivered his sermon from Job 3-27.

In this final episode of the DBT micro-season, James walks back through the terrain — mindfulness, distress tolerance, emotion regulation, and interpersonal effectiveness — not to reteach, but to reflect. What landed. What didn't. What surprised him. And, more importantly, how to actually use any of this in real life without turning it into another productivity project or, worse, becoming a DBT zealot who diagnoses everyone at brunch.Expect a tour back through the season, reflection questions to sit with, strategies for practising without burning out, and a slightly insistent reminder that you cannot do this alone — even (especially) coming from a podcast called Friendless.

It's Independent Bookstore Day, and to celebrate, Friendless is doing a double feature — two short conversations recorded at the Bookshelf, both circling the same question: what do bookstores actually do for us that nothing else can?First up is MLA Christine Boyle, BC's Minister of Housing and Municipal Affairs — and a lifelong library and bookstore nerd. We talk about the physical, relational experience you can't get from an online cart, why her 11-year-old plays her like a fiddle every time they walk past a bookshop, and the climate novel her book club still hasn't forgiven her for.Then I sit down with Cathy Jesson, the owner of Black Bond Books. Cathy started in her mother's store in Brandon, Manitoba in the sixties, moved to the coast, built the business into a three-generation family operation, and in 2012 stepped in on a five-day turnaround to save Book Warehouse from closing. She talks about running a bookstore as a business (not a pipe dream), why the magic only happens on the floor and not in the office, and what she wants customers to feel walking out on Independent Bookstore Day.Both conversations are short, warm, and — if you're anything like me — going to send you straight to your nearest independent.Mentioned in this episode: Black Bond Books, Book Warehouse, Hager Books - https://www.blackbondbooks.com/ Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson Fire Weather by John Vaillant A Truce That Is Not Peace by Miriam Toews The Women by Kristin Hannah Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert HeinleinFind Friendless on Instagram and TikTok @friendlesspod. Reach out: friendlesspod@gmail.comCheck out the Linktree: https://linktr.ee/friendlesspodFun and safety, Sweet Peas.Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

What does it take to truly belong somewhere — and what happens when you didn't know that's what you needed?This week on Friendless, James sits down with Iona Whishaw — bestselling author of the Lane Winslow Mystery series — for a live conversation at the Book Warehouse on Main Street in Vancouver, BC. Her newest novel, A False and Fatal Claim, is the backdrop for a wide-ranging discussion about identity, deception, community, and the surprising things we discover about ourselves when we stop running.They get into: the lies we tell ourselves versus the lies we perform for others; why Iona doesn't plot her novels (and what that means for how story finds her); how Kings Cove functions as both utopia and honest mirror; the way technology has quietly eroded our capacity for friction — and why friction might be exactly what we need; Lane Winslow's journey from deliberate isolation to unexpected belonging; and how writing at 64 gave Iona a whole new life.Iona also shares how her mother — a larger-than-life woman who hitchhiked to Alaska with an evening gown and sneakers — became the unlikely skeleton of Lane Winslow, and what it means to inherit someone's courage second-hand.Recorded live at Book Warehouse VancouverPick up Iona's book at the Book Warehouse on Main Street.• Email: friendlesspod@gmail.com• Instagram: @friendlesspod• TikTok: @friendlesspodCreate your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

Your feelings are real. But what if acting on them is making things worse?In this episode of Friendless, host James Avramenko continues the DBT series with three tools for navigating emotions without being controlled by them.We cover Opposite Action — the skill for when your emotion is justified, but the urge it's driving you toward would damage something you care about. We look at Problem Solving — for when the emotion does fit the facts and there's something concrete you can actually do. And we explore Building Positive Experiences — the proactive, preventative practice of filling your emotional reserves before crisis hits.James shares personal stories from his medical leave, a financial spiral, and the anxiety he felt recording this very episode — and what it looked like to apply (or not apply) these tools in real time.In this episode: The "action urge" behind every emotion — and when following it makes things worse How avoidance teaches your brain that the threat is real Why you can't half-ass opposite action The difference between a catastrophe and a problem Why positive experiences aren't a luxury — they're emotional infrastructure

This week on a very special episode of Friendless recorded live at the Book Warehouse on Main Street, host James Avramenko interviews thriller author Robin Harding about her novel Strangers in the Villa.They discuss the inspiration for the book's setup—a couple, Sydney and Curtis, retreat to an isolated villa in Catalonia, Spain, to repair their marriage after an affair, then invite in two Australian strangers who won't leave—by a real trip and intensified by language and cultural barriers. They discuss character psychology, morally gray “damaged and damaging” behaviour, the cruelty of calling an affair “meaningless,” and Harding's theme of “what is forgivable,” escalating toward an ultimately unforgivable revelation tied to exploitation and trafficking, raising questions of justice versus vigilantism. Harding describes her craft process, multiple POV, and how isolation strips away performance.Find Robyn at robynharding.com or on Instagram @rhardingwriter. Strangers in the Villa is out now — find it at the Book Warehouse!

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, we ask what if the goal of emotional maturity isn't to stop feeling things but to stop fighting them? In Part 5 of Friendless's deep dive into DBT emotional regulation, James unpacks what emotions are actually for, and why treating them like problems to solve is exactly what keeps us stuck.This episode covers three foundational skills: naming emotions accurately (because "I feel bad" tells you nothing useful), checking the facts (the difference between what actually happened and the story your brain added on top), and the PLEASE skill — the unglamorous daily maintenance checklist that has a surprisingly direct line to how regulated you feel.James also gets personal: about spending years terrified of his own anger, about the shame hiding underneath a text that didn't get answered, and about why exercise remains the bane of his existence.In this episode: Why emotions are signals, not malfunctions The smoke alarm analogy that reframes everything How vague labels like "fine" keep you stuck Checking the facts vs. checking the story PLEASE: Physical illness, Eating, Avoid substances, Sleep, Exercise A short practice to try right nowFriendless is a podcast about loneliness, connection, and the honest, sometimes uncomfortable work of understanding ourselves.

Distress Tolerance Pt. 2: Self-Soothing & Radical AcceptanceThis week on a very special episode of Friendless, we're continuing our exploration of Distress Tolerance skills as the DBT mini-season hits the halfway mark!STOP and TIPP — last week's skills — are built for acute crisis moments. This episode is for the other kind of hard: the slow burn, the ongoing grief, the situations you can't fix right now and just have to live with anyway. Two major skills today: self-soothing and radical acceptance.Self-Soothing is about giving your nervous system what it needs to feel safer — not by fixing the thing, not by numbing out, but through sensory input that tells your body it's okay right now. James breaks down what this looks like across all five senses, shares what's in his self-soothing kit, and makes a case for building your own before you need it.Radical Acceptance is probably the hardest skill in DBT. It's also, in James's experience, the most transformative. This is the practice of accepting reality as it is — fully, completely, without the layer of this shouldn't be happening — and why that's not the same thing as approval, defeat, or giving up. James draws on a deeply personal story about his divorce to show what it actually looks like when you finally stop fighting what is.In this episode:• Why stop and tip aren't enough for the slow burn — and what is• The DBT distinction between pain (unavoidable) and suffering (optional)• What self-soothing actually is — and what it isn't• A sensory breakdown of self-soothing tools across all five senses• What James carries in his self-soothing kit and why• The most common misunderstanding of radical acceptance• A personal story about divorce, gaslighting, and the moment reality finally shifted• Why radical acceptance is a practice, not a one-time decision• A short guided practice for both skillsConnect with Friendless:• Email: friendlesspod@gmail.com• Instagram: @friendlesspod• TikTok: @friendlesspodCreate your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

Our love expert, Kellie Rasberry, is here to answer the big and the small questions that plague your relationships. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Our love expert, Kellie Rasberry, is here to answer the big and the small questions that plague your relationships. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, we're leaving the mindfulness skills behind and stepping into DBT's toolkit for emotional emergencies: the moments when you're at an eight or nine on the chaos scale, logic has stepped out of the building, and your nervous system is running the whole show. The only goal in those moments? Don't make things worse.In this episode, James breaks down two core Distress Tolerance skills:The STOP Skill — your emergency brake for when your thumb is hovering over "send," you can feel those words rising in your throat, and everything in your body is screaming do something. STOP interrupts the impulse-to-action pipeline just long enough to give you back a choice.The TIP Skills — a set of physical interventions (Temperature, Intense exercise, Paced breathing, and Paired muscle relaxation) that work directly on your biology when you're too flooded to think your way through anything. Because sometimes you can't logic your way out of a crisis. You have to use your body.James also shares two personal stories: what happened when he recorded a full 45-minute episode and forgot to hit record, and how he used the STOP skill in real time during a text conversation that was heading somewhere neither party wanted to go.We wrap with a short guided mental rehearsal so these skills are a little more accessible when the real crisis hits.In this episode:• Why mindfulness alone isn't enough when your brain is in chaos mode• What's actually happening in your nervous system during a crisis (and why the first impulse is almost always the wrong one)• The STOP skill, broken down step by step• The TIP skills: Temperature, Intense Exercise, Paced Breathing, and Paired Muscle Relaxation• The dive reflex — and why cold water actually works• Why a long exhale is a biological signal that the danger is over• A short guided rehearsal to help build your crisis response mapConnect with Friendless:• Email: friendlesspod@gmail.com• Instagram: @friendlesspod• TikTok: @friendlesspodCreate your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, your pal and host of the show James Avramenko sits down with journalist, activist, podcaster, and author Garth Mullins — live at Book Warehouse on Main Street in Vancouver — for one of the most honest, wide-ranging conversations the show has ever had.Garth is the host of the Crackdown podcast and the author of Crackdown: Surviving and Resisting the War on Drugs (Penguin Random House), a memoir-meets-manifesto that traces his life as a drug user, activist, and community organiser through the ongoing overdose crisis. His book is one of those rare things: deeply personal and rigorously political at the same time.In this episode, they talk about shame — what it costs to carry it, and what it feels like when it finally lifts. They talk about grief as something we were always meant to share communally, and what it means to lose half your community to a crisis the government had the tools to prevent. They talk about necropolitics — the idea that governments don't just neglect people, they make calculated decisions about who will live and who will die. And they talk about what it actually looks like to build community in the middle of all of it: the meetings, the minutes, the coffee runs, the naloxone.Garth is one of the clearest, most generous thinkers James has had on the show — and this conversation is proof of why.

In this very special episode of Friendless, we're continuing the DBT micro-season diving into the how skills of mindfulness: non-judgmentally, one-mindfully, and effectively. If those sound like made-up DBT words, you're not wrong—but what they actually mean is surprisingly straightforward.Last episode covered the what skills (observe, describe, participate). This week is about how to practice them without turning mindfulness into another thing you're failing at. Because here's the thing: you can know all the skills, understand them intellectually, explain them to other people, and still completely fuck them up by making mindfulness a source of shame.The how skills are the guardrails that prevent exactly that.What You'll Learn: Nonjudgmentally: How to separate facts from interpretations—the difference between "I'm feeling tired" and "I'm lazy for feeling tired" One-mindfully: Why doing five things at once means doing five things poorly, and how to actually focus (spoiler: your mind will wander, that's fine) Effectively: Letting go of the "right way" and just doing what works—meeting yourself where you are, not where you wish you wereSign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

in this very special episode of Friendless, we're kicking off the DBT micro-season with Mindfulness Part 1, and no — this is not the sit-cross-legged-and-think-about-nothing version. This is practical mindfulness. The kind that gives you an off-ramp when your brain is catastrophising about a blank document or a text that went unanswered.Today we're covering the three "What" skills: Observe, Describe, and Participate. These are the foundation everything else builds on. They're deceptively simple, which doesn't mean they're easy — but they're the tools that let you notice when you're time-traveling into worst-case scenarios and choose to come back to the present.What You'll LearnObserve — How to notice what's happening without trying to change it, fix it, or make it go away. Just acknowledging "my heart is racing" or "I'm having anxious thoughts" without layering judgment on top.Describe — How to put words to what you're observing. The difference between "I'm failing" and "I'm having the thought that I'm failing." Words create distance. Distance gives you options.Participate — How to give your full attention to what you're doing right now instead of being on autopilot. Not every second of every day — just having the ability to come back when you notice you've drifted.In This Episode Why mindfulness gets a bad rap (and why DBT mindfulness is different) The spiral I had preparing to write this very script — and how my brain turned a blank document into proof I should quit everything How observing my anxiety about an unanswered text gave me just enough space to not make it worse That time I drove to Main Street without music or podcasts and actually noticed the road (it felt longer than driving across Canada) A short guided practice for trying Observe, Describe, Participate in under two minutes Why the thoughts don't disappear — and why that's okaySign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

In this very special episode of Friendless, your host James Avramenko finally launches the long-promised DBT mini-season. This introductory episode explores why Dialectical Behavior Therapy isn't just for people with BPD diagnoses—it's practical emotional scaffolding for anyone who's ever sent an unhinged text at 2am or catastrophized themselves out of sleep.James shares his own journey into DBT during one of the lowest points of his life, why he was skeptical at first, and the moment a simple acronym (STOP) prevented him from making things worse. This isn't about fixing yourself or becoming a better person—it's about working with the brain you have when everything feels like it's falling apart.What You'll Learn Why DBT isn't self-help BS: The difference between theories and tools The four DBT modules: Mindfulness, Distress Tolerance, Emotional Regulation, and Interpersonal Effectiveness Who DBT is actually for: Spoiler—you don't need a diagnosis to benefit What's coming: A roadmap for the 10-episode mini-season (2 episodes per module + intro/wrap-up) The real goal: Fucking up slightly less often (that's it, that's the bar)Sign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, host James Avramenko welcomes acclaimed author Susin Nielsen for a live recording at Book Warehouse Vancouver.Susin's latest novel "Snap" tells the story of three unlikely friends brought together through an anger management program—and it all started with a real incident at a disastrous school visit 15 years ago. In this wide-ranging conversation, Susin and James explore the power of optimistic storytelling in dark times, the peculiar difficulty of making friends in Vancouver (despite everyone being "so outwardly cheery"), and why setting Canadian stories in "any town USA" drove Susin crazy enough to plant her work firmly in Vancouver's streets and neighbourhoods.They also dive into Susin's journey from craft services on Degrassi Junior High to writing on the show at age 22, creating positive work environments on Family Law, refusing publisher pressure to censor her work, and her recent experiments with meditation and church-going (for the community, not necessarily Jesus).Whether you're interested in the craft of writing, the challenge of building community, or just want to hear two people who love Vancouver bond over its friendship paradoxes, this conversation has something for you.Links & Resources: Susin's Website: susinnielsen.com/ Book Warehouse Vancouver: [link]Sign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

This week on a very special episode of Friendless, I sit down with Dr. Greg Hammer—pediatric intensive care physician, recently retired Stanford professor, and author of A Mindful Teen—to talk about what we're actually doing to young people in 2025.We unpack the unique pressures facing today's teens: smartphones as double-edged swords, the performative perfection trap of social media, sextortion and AI-generated abuse, fentanyl-laced everything, gun violence as background noise, and the impossible college admissions race. You know, light stuff.But here's the thing—Dr. Hammer isn't here to just list problems. We dig into his GAIN method (Gratitude, Acceptance, Intention, Non-Judgment), a practical framework for building actual resilience without the therapy-speak bullshit. We talk about neuroplasticity, the negativity bias our brains are stuck with from evolutionary baggage, and why telling your kids to be grateful while you complain about traffic doesn't work.We also get real about recognizing depression versus sadness, the telltale signs parents and teachers miss, and why love needs to be a verb, not just a feeling.Fair warning: this episode discusses teen mental health, suicide, and self-harm in depth.In This Episode: Why "kids are resilient" is a cop-out The self-surveillance generation and viral culture paralysis How smartphones and social media rewire developing brains The GAIN method: a 3-minute daily practice for mental resilience Three Good Things: the stupidly simple gratitude practice that actually works Modeling behaviour vs. telling kids what to do Recognizing the signs of clinical depression in teens Why we're all more alike than different (and our dark thoughts aren't unique)Guest Bio:Dr. Greg Hammer is a pediatric intensive care physician, recently retired professor at Stanford University School of Medicine, and author of Gain Without Pain and A Mindful Teen. He's spent his career studying physical and mental wellness, longevity science, and resilience practices—and has raised teenagers while watching an entire generation navigate challenges he never had to face.Resources: A Mindful Teen by Dr. Greg Hammer: Amazon | Barnes & Noble Dr. Hammer's website: greghammer​md.com Instagram: @greghammer​mdMental Health Resources: Canada: Call or text 988 (Suicide Crisis Helpline) USA: Call or text 988 (Suicide & Crisis Lifeline) Crisis Text Line (both countries): Text HOME to 741741Sign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

This week we address a listener's question about making friends in the art world. Kate announces a new weekly social mixer! Fridays 5pm - 6pm at Et al. Make new friends and keep the old! Music in this episode is by The Good LifeRing the bell of friendship!Why It's So Hard to Make New Friends as an Adult - Psychology Today Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this very special episode of Friendless, host James Avramenko delves into the complexities of friendship, sobriety, and mental health with his dear friend William Raphael Pacheco. Join them as they discuss the impact of family names, the challenges of quitting substances, and the journey toward self-acceptance. They share laughs, deep reflections, and valuable life insights on maintaining friendships and navigating queer spaces while staying sober.Follow Will on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/will.r.pacheco/Sign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastr

In this very special episode of Friendless, join host James Avramenko in a look back on the year that was 2025. He reflects on the highs and lows of the past year. James opens up about his medical leave, mental health, and the complexities of dealing with burnout. He discusses guest highlights, including interviews with Dean Spade and Dust Kwaine, and shares his thoughts on the current state of friendship in culture. James also provides recommendations for books, movies, and music that defined his year and announces exciting new plans for 2026, including monthly live episodes with local authors. Tune in for an honest and insightful look back at 2025 and a glimpse into what's coming next.Sign up for the Friendless Substack HERE!Follow Friendless on TikTokand on InstagramSupport the show, Buy Me A Coffee!!Create your podcast today! #madeonzencastrBooks Mentioned:Giovanni's Room - James BaldwinMonsters: A Fan's Dilemma - Claire DedererPenance - Eliza ClarkTen Bridges I've Burnt: A Memoir in Verse - Brontez PurnellThe Children of Jocasta - Natalie HaynesThe Five: The Untold Lives of the Women Killed by Jack the Ripper - Hallie RubenholdFollow me on StoryGraph: https://app.thestorygraph.com/profile/javramenkoMovies Mentioned:SinnersFinal Destination: BloodlinesOne Battle After AnotherEddington28 Years LaterFollow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/anaveragemango/

The ongoing debate on U.S. anti-drug cartel military action in Venezuela. Historian Victor Davis Hanson’s piece, “Reality Caught Up to ‘Climate Change’” at victorhanson.com. Robert P. George’s resignation from the Heritage Foundation and the accessibility of American intellectuals. The song “My Sweet Lord” and copyright infringement claims. The crisis of friendless young men in America.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Patreon: www.patreon.com/nosleepdsm Facebook: www.facebook.com/nosleepdsm Instagram: @nosleepdsm Toll Insta: @tollbocop AJ Insta: @asimmetrical Alex Insta: @fakealexcarter

Join this channel to get access to perks:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpScWes_g_Z95ViTF5vdkiA/joinLink to the song at the end of the video - https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/neenab/diagnosisLet us know if you agree in the comments below! Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. ----email us at----thepanicbuttonpodcast@gmail.comNew REACTIONS Every Week!SUPPORT THE CHANNEL

Friendless and terrified, Paddy Grindlay turned up at Haven't You Done Well Productions in December of last year. He wouldn't stop ringing the doorbell. Taking pity on this confused little boy, Broden and Tom gave him a job and a nice shirt and now he's just terrified. He also wrote this description and would like to say editing your own podcast interview is A TRULY AWFUL EXPERIENCE. Listen to full episodes of 'The Footy with Broden Kelly' on your favourite podcast app. Follow 'The Footy with Broden Kelly' on Instagram and TikTok.

Pete Davidson may be celebrating impending fatherhood with girlfriend Elsie Hewitt, but those closest to the comedian aren’t convinced he’s ready for diapers and midnight feedings. Meanwhile, former friends of Madonna are coming forward to say the pop icon has burned every bridge she’s ever crossed — claiming she’s isolated, cold, and obsessed only with herself. And in Hollywood legal drama, Ben Affleck is reportedly furious over what’s being said about him in the upcoming Gwyneth: The Biography — so much so that his team is weighing legal action. Instinct magazine’s Corey Andrew joins Rob with all the dish! Don't forget to vote in today's poll on Twitter at @naughtynicerob or in our Facebook group.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Friendless with Pastor Miller

Josiah and Micah visit with Tim Lukei (Mariners Church Men's Pastor and Founder of Maverick River Collective) about the crisis of young men, loneliness, emptiness, and creating discipleship pathways for young adults! Today's episode is presented by: 1. The Minnesota Young Adult WKND: https://www.youngadults.today/the-wknd 2. Join us June 5-6 for the West Coast leader conference IN PERSON in Irvine, California: https://www.youngadults.today/west-coast-conference More about us: -Free eBook "10 Steps to Starting a Successful Young Adult Ministry: https://www.youngadults.today/book/starting-a-successful-young-adult-ministry -Book Bundle: https://www.youngadults.today/book/3-book-bundle -Subscribe to the youngadultstoday podcast: On Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/youngadults-today/id1477787085 On Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4swpMslS254rcZR41lpEPp?si=3854c66c00124d42 -Join our FaceBook Group Community with 2500+ leaders: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/15Lmxj4qUW/ -Follow youngadultstoday on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/youngadults.today/ About our ministry: www.youngadults.today More about our guest, Tim Lukei: https://maverickriver.com 

Vincent, Buffy and other family matter.Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels. It is selfish to believe that your family will always love you. At some point you will be asked to earn it The main front was stabilizing. The 2nd Army was in tough shape though all three divisions were still in the fight. The 1st Army's 2nd and 9th Divisions had corked up the advances out of Cambodia. As soon as night fell, they would maneuver the majority of the 2nd Division to crush the Alliance forces north of Bangkok. The rioters would be crushed tomorrow morning. They would survive.This realization came too late to them. The rot of fear had infected the 1st Army, 1st Division and the police force commands. Of more importance, a small group of secretive individuals convinced two senior Thai officers that something had to be done before the city fell, or the Prime Minister reasserted control over the city.Those two conspirators had the same problem as the Loyalists, enemy troops and protestors in the street. Those officers had no way to contact the crucial enemy commanders, but they knew who did, the Indian Navy. Surreptitiously, they contacted the Indian Navy's Expeditionary Fleet. The fleet's Admiral quickly put them in touch with the Alliance Command Authority and within two hours, a deal was made.The Great Khan would stop the Alliance offensive if the King of Thailand made a public appeal, no strings attached. This new group of rebels and the Alliance worked out the path they needed to take to reach the King so that the Alliance forces were out of the way and no planes, or helicopter attacked their formations. They even had a TV station that would broadcast the King's speech ending the conflict. All they needed was nightfall.And that was the true story of how the counter-coup was pulled off, how the King of Thailand was able to talk to the Great Khan and how the Thai government was overthrown. In the final analysis, the Loyalist hadn't fallen before the might of the Alliance. They were done in by a tiny number of Black Lotus operative almost no one knew existed, with a small amount of assistance from JIKIT."No wonder the Seven Pillars has never been able to wipe out these guys," Addison yawned. "They are slippery as eels and thrice as lethal. I am glad they are on our side." Several sets of eyes looked at her skeptically. "I mean, I am glad we are currently working toward the same goals."Thus,"I suggest we all get some sleep," Addison declared as she stood up and stretched.Odette was comfortably asleep, so I curled her up and carried her to the elevator. I wanted to go home and forget that I had lost any semblance of a normal life. I didn't know what was worse; me doing the shit I was doing, or me understanding what I was doing. Juanita had gone down ahead of us to pull the car around to the front.Chaz, Pamela, Odette and I went down in the first wave of the exodus from the workplace. The door opened on the ground floor. I wasn't the first person to notice her. My reflexes had improved to the point I had a moment to recognize her before the people around me sprang into action.Pamela side-stepped to the right, pistol mystically appearing in her two-hand grip. Chaz, Chaz bore Odette and me to the ground. His level of dedication astonished me. He was shielding us with his body. From what, I hadn't been able to determine."Deadman switch," one of my aunts stated. "I want to talk with Cáel." The voice had a stressed tenor to it."Back outside," Pamela simmered."No.""Chaz, what is going on?" I asked him. He hadn't moved and wasn't letting me wiggle around to see."Explosive vest," he responded coolly. That's right. Chaz was shielding Odette and me with his body.That is what I found astonishing, his desire to give his life for me. His expectation that Pamela could kill the threat while he was currently occupied was understandable."We seem to be at an impasse," Pamela edged further away.She wasn't avoiding the blast radius. That was impossible in this lobby. No, if it came to firing, she was making it easier for Chaz to get a shot off since the shooter couldn't cover both angles of attack."Let me talk to him," my aunt insisted. This made no sense."Chaz, let me deal with this," I told my bodyguard."Are you sure?" he questioned."Not really. As Pamela said, she's not going to let any of us leave until she talks to me and if you kill her, she kills all of you." Chaz let me stand.Odette was just awakening to the threat. Chaz rose to stand by my side. (Sadly, Odette didn't rate him dying for her.) I prayed I didn't fuck this up."Cáel, is that really you?" the women with green eyes and red hair asked me. She sounded desperate, which would explain the suicide vest."Yeah, which one are, Mom?"{9:10 pm, Tuesday, September 2nd ~ 6 Days to go}"Yes, I'm Sibeal. Are you my son?""Do you mean   No! Grandfather Cáel hasn't supplanted my spirit with his own," I took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how I can convince you of this.""Do you miss your Father?" she queried."Yes," I murmured."Ahh Cáel, you are still my son. Thank all that is divine," she sighed."Care to deactivate the vest now?" Pamela suggested."Do you promise not to shoot me? You two, and the one sneaking up on me from behind." She meant Juanita, who had sensed the danger and exited the car."You are three kinds of crazy, so I'm not making any guarantees," Pamela answered."Pamela   Chaz, I really think she is my mother. And I assume she is here to kill Cáel O'Shea, not me," I interjected. I still wasn't leaving Chaz' side. "Please don't kill her.""No guarantees," Chaz affirmed."She's his mother," Odette chimed in. "If it was anyone else, they would be in a cloud of bodyguards, not alone.""Here is the deal, Mom. You deactivate the vest, then we will talk. Otherwise, I'm taking my security's advice and backing the fuck out of here.""Okay," she nodded. "It's a fake. I'm upset, but not enough to be suicidal. I wanted to see what you would do. Father would have sacrificed everyone else. You got tackled and you obeyed the man who was trying to save your life.""Chaz, what do you think?" Pamela asked him."We could hold her here until Virginia shows up. That would give Cáel a few minutes to reminisce before she gets dragged off to the looney bin." (That would, of course, lead to her death while in Federal custody   so that wasn't happening, period.)"I concur," Pamela agreed. She still had her gun out and aimed. She went to a one-handed grip so she could motion Juanita to come inside.I took the opportunity to walk around Chaz, though I only advanced half way."I think it is asking too much from my bodyguards to walk up to you with that vest lying at your feet," I pointed. "You know   just in case you are lying." She nodded, smiled and came forward. A hug was in the offing. I almost missed Odette coming up behind me."I'm on a timetable," Mom murmured into my shoulder. "You know why.""I am afraid I do," (my pheromones were already affecting her). "What brought this on? How long can you stay?""The kidnapping made it imperative. But this has been my first opportunity to get close enough to you to determine if my father had won, or not," she confessed."I'm not sure how long I can remain ~ maybe a day, or three. I have heard you have an upcoming ordeal you must go through for your Amazons." Odette again by way of Delilah. I decided to give Delilah the benefit of the doubt and just accept that she did what she did because she was worried about me."Oh. Mom, this is Odette Sievert, my roommate and all-around better friend than I deserve." Odette extended her hand. Mom reached past me and shook it."Nice to finally meet you in person," Mom smiled."Nice to realize you aren't as nutty as the rest of the bunch,and considering you came at Pamela and Chaz with a fake suicide vest   that is saying something," Odette grinned."My son is all I have left of Ferko (my dad)," she grew grim. "If my father stole him after killing my husband   I wouldn't know how to carry on.""Aaahh," Odette stammered through this tense family moment. "You are about to be a grandmother in a serious way," she tried to turn things around. "How does a dozen grandkids sound?"Operational security and secret information were concepts Odette was aware of. She simply refused to use either one."Really?" Mom looked from Odette to me. "How serious?""How about we get out of here before the FBI shows up," I began directing my mom out the doors."Cáel?" Chaz questioned."Hey now, I never agreed to hand my mom over to Virginia. The vest was fake. Let's not dwell on this," I urged Mom and Odette out the door."Ishara," Juanita repeatedly prayed, "why do you test me so?"Chaz and Pamela showed their faith in me and my decision-making ability by tagging along. For me, what does a son who hasn't spent any time with his mother since he was seven (because she was supposedly dead for the past fifteen years) ask first?Actually, we waited for Chaz, who had the presence of mind to ensure the vest was truly a dud and then called Virginia so she could clean up one of my messes   yet again."Thank you, Color Sergeant," Mom looked toward Chaz as the GL 550 pulled away from One Mi Ma1 Tower. Unfortunately, the look he sent her way wasn't friendly."Thanks for reminding me," I nodded to Mom. "Chaz, what in the Hell possessed you to jump on Odette and me? I appreciate it,""Me too," Odette chimed in."But please don't do that ever again. Of all the, let's just say I have too many deaths of people I like on my mind. I don't want you added to that list.""Tough.""Well, thanks for considering my request," I groaned."Chaz, three nights ago our boy learned that one of the women he knocked up is going to die and no one will intervene to save her life and they won't tell him where she is," Pamela let him know."Who do we talk to?" he asked me. By 'talk' I assumed he meant torture until they coughed up a viable location/suspect."The Goddess Ishara.""Fuck. I apologize, Cáel. That is hard news for a young man like you to take. As for my jumping on you   suck it up. It is my job to make sure you can do yours.""Juanita," Pamela called out. "Stop driving to Havenstone. Take us back to Cáel's place. He won't let the Amazons take his mother, which means I won't let them, which means Chaz won't let them. Besides, Odette could get killed in the cross-fire and too many people like her for that to be safe for any would-be assassin.""Really?" Odette perked up. Of course she wasn't worried about being killed. Odette was fascinated that people found her valuable   enough to kill anyone who killed her. She'd more fully grasp that curse later on. She was a genuinely nice person. What Pamela left unsaid was that if 'people' thought someone might kill Odette, they would 'proactively' protect her. Too many people she now hung out with were of that stripe of crazy."Pamela, would you miss me if I got killed?" Odette turned to the most dangerous person in the car. (I didn't think Mom was in her league, but then I had never seen her fight, so I was keeping an open mind.)"You bet your ass, Baby-cakes," she grinned at my super-kind sidekick."Me too," Chaz added gruffly. "Of greater importance, Addison would take umbrage. Next to Ms. Love, she's the nastiest bitch I've ever met." He meant that as a compliment."Not Lady Yum   I meant Worthington-Burke?" I inquired."She doesn't take things personally. She'd miss Odette, but not enough to move off-mission," Chaz explained."Let's not forget Buffy," Pamela snorted. "What she lacks in experience she makes up for by being totally psychotic and fanatically loyal to Wakko here. People who piss him off tend to end up as a place holder on the Obituary page.""Unless they never find the bodies," Juanita commented   from her personal experience disposing of people for me. Groan."Cáel, I am so happy I met you," Odette hugged my arm. "My life was going nowhere before you gave me your phone number. Now, I know my life is at risk and I don't care. Being with you has been more wonderful than I ever thought possible."Mom was studying me, both pleased and worried."What?" I asked."You have a lot of your grandfather in you. He did have a gift for inspiring the best out of people. You are like your father in that you care for those people   caring for both their lives and their happiness. Your father inspired that same kind of loyalty because he kept the needs of his people in the forefront of his mind.""Dad was like Grandpa?" I worried."Hell no." That was Pamela."Thank the Divine, no," Mom exhaled at the same time. "How do you know my father?""I killed him," Pamela grinned."You were the one? I'm, I don't know what to think," Mom murmured."Keep that in mind before you try to pull another stunt like you did tonight," Pamela's grin grew feral."Pamela is the best Grandmother I could ever hope for," I explained."Spiritually speaking," Odette tried to lighten the mood (she was a cracker-jack morale officer). "Otherwise it would make Cáel's having sex with her granddaughters rather, suspect.""Odette, you can say 'incestuous'," Mom gave a half-grin. "Do you know much about my family?""Your Pa created you and your sisters to be fuck-toys who also ran errands for him," Odette nodded. "They are all loonies.""Don't share that view with them," Mom cautioned. "When we last met, they had a highly under-developed sense of humor and a well-cultivated mean streak.""Gotcha," Odette giggled. "After dealing with the Slayers of Testicles numbers 1 & 2, I have learned what kind of wacky girls Cáel attracts without even trying.""I really should make sure Mr. Fiennes is okay," I reminded myself."You would do better catching up with that girl down the hall. The Korean takeout girl also asked about you", offered Odette. Yeah, the girl in 3-F baked me some cookies when Dad was murdered."How many grandchildren are we talking about?" Mom looked at me with some serious maternal affection."Who are the Slayers of Testicles?" Juanita wanted to know. My family jewels belonged to House Ishara   at least in her and her sisters' estimation."Oneida's bodyguards," Odette let slip out before she saw the warning look in my eyes."You are sleeping with the apprentice of House Arinniti?" gasped Juanita   I was hoping her questioning wasn't hurting her driving. "What about the 84 day rule?""I'd better not bring up Rhada," Odette nodded thoughtfully."I'm going to spank you," I growled at Odette."Was that aimed at me?" Juanita."Yippee, and we are going home now, too!" Odette squealed."Not you, Juanita   Odette. I want to teach her how to 'not say' whatever pops up in her head," I grumbled."You promised to punish me!" she beamed brightly. "Punish me! Punish me!""Uuuuuuu," I beat my cranium against the headrest in front of me."I thought she was the 'nice' girl," Mom chided me."She was," Pamela smirked. "Unfortunately, she's been totally corrupted by your son.""Yep," Odette agreed. "He's opened up a whole new horizon of things sexual for me.""Son, how many women are you seeing? I thought you were engaged." Mom."Uuuuuuu," I repeated."I'll take care of this," Chaz intervened calmly. "He is as loyal as he can be   within the bounds of his limited moral arsenal   to Hana Sulkanen. So he is sexually and romantically involved with Brooke Lee and Libra Chalmers, civilians he met through contacts at Havenstone. There is Anais Saint-Armour, RCMP, who departed this weekend,""She'll be back," Pamela assured Mom. "They always come back at least once.""Who has only come back just once?" Chaz laconically questioned Pamela."Good point," Pamela acceded. "They keep coming back until he changes the locks, his phone number and address." That made no sense,"I am glad you two are my friends," I groused. "I'd hate to think what you would say about me if you hated me.""You're welcome," Pamela grinned."Ms. Marla Chalmers," Chaz continued without missing a beat, "Libra's younger sibling, who your son indubitably impressed while in college; three teachers at an exclusive school, he met them while body-guarding a group of children; an assistant manager of a hotel he stayed at; six attractive, college-educated European young women,""Don't forget the Macedonian!" Pamela interjected."I have removed her from the list because she has no reliable way to hunt down our boy," he explained."Good point," Pamela nodded."They like busting your chops, don't they?" Mom smiled."As opposed to physically busting my chops   this I can live with.""You have matured nicely. Your father would be very pleased   quietly, of course.""Thank you Mom." She knew the man better than I ever would."We won't count the 189 Amazons who have staked a claim to him for the next nine days," Chaz added."What! 189? When did that happen?""The thirty huntresses and the 159 members of House Ishara," Pamela clued me in."159? When did that happen?" I gasped again. I was repeating myself   not good. I knew I had told Buffy to 'keep up the good work', but still, House Ishara wasn't even two months old yet."They are the best of the roughly 20,000 Runners in the Host and thus, all are serious bad-ass bitches," Pamela assured me. "I think Helena would like you to explore a few more heroic Runners who have since passed.""Passed?" Mom."Cáel sees dead people," Odette beamed."So does his Aunt Baibre," Mom said."Met her, came off a bit, off," I confirmed."That's Baibre. What other ones have you met, besides Deidre and Brianna?"She was asking if I had met others outside of Delilah's watchful eye."Hmm, Imogen, Kelly and Matilda.""Okay. You haven't met the bad ones yet," Mom nodded. I was stunned yet again. Not by what Mom said, but by,"The 'bad ones'?" Pamela inquired. "They come in shades worse than Kelly and Matilda?""I'm with you on that. Those two were unsettling," Chaz agreed. Holy Shit! Pamela and Chaz were agreeing that two of my aunts had them worried on a tactical level. So 'not good' for me, since I couldn't take either of my friends. Bad-bad."Fiona is the worst. She is the second youngest of my generation and by far the most lethal. She was Father's pet.""Oh joy," I sighed."Is she bulletproof?" Chaz inquired."Not quite, but she is definitely hard to kill. She has a greater share of Alal while remaining sane.""Oh, she's the sane one?" Juanita joined in."On that side of his family, sane is a relative term." Thanks, Odette."Relative to how far your cock is into them?" Pamela snorted."Hold on now," I interrupted the jocularity. "What do you mean   'your generation'   'the second youngest'   what happened to the youngest   and when you say 'worst', define 'worst'."Pamela's phone rang."Father created three generations of daughters and sons. Carrig was the 'success' on the male side of the equation."Uncle Lumpy was the 'success'? What had the other uncles been like   idiot cyclops cannibals?"He destroyed all the rest.""Please clarify," Chaz studied my mother. "Your father murdered his own children?""Yes. All but one of the 36 sons. He kept Carrig around as a reminder to not create any more sons. The first generation of daughters were all 'failures'.""You mean dead?" Odette gulped."Yes   dead now, though he viewed all of us as property, not human beings.""Consider Grandad's low opinion of humanity, that's extra tragic," I put an arm around Odette. Pamela was muffling her conversation."Of the second generation of daughters, only Aunt Faoiltiama was kept around. I always had the impression her soul wasn't entirely human. She is rather primitive and predatory. A less horrifically unbalanced Carrig   physically that is. Carrig was somewhat more erudite.""Wow, I don't know what to think of that," I mumbled."Of my generation, eleven of us were allowed to live. Kelly and Maitilda are the most physically dangerous. That was their purpose   killing things.""Trained in combat styles by Cáel's grandfather?" Chaz looked, depressed."Yes. The four of us were. Fiona was the only one I couldn't best.""I would like to spar with you when it is convenient," Chaz requested."Okay. You deserve to know how bad it can be," she nodded. "Of the rest, Una was the youngest, the most human and humane. She was Father's final failure. I was never sure why he kept her alive.""For Cáel to rescue, of course," Odette insisted. Crap. She was right. By the horrified look on my Mother's face, she knew Odette was correct as well.Alal had let Una live as a contingency card, in case I was a soft-hearted sap. In hindsight, it was obvious. The innocent damsel trapped in a madhouse, at the mercy of her fiendish kinfolk, she was a perfect weapon to make me do stupider shit than normal."Damn," Mom muttered. "Anyway, Briana is the most willful and the family's representative to the Illuminati. Deidre is the most sedate, so she handles the normal business interests that we are allowed to know about. Darcie had Alal's hunger for lost and forbidden lore. In her case, it is all-consuming. She has memorized much of Father's collection.""She is rather good at it too   or was when I last saw her. Imogen is our tactician and oversees the O'Shea's bodyguard contingent. She has Father's ability to choose the best men and women, to train them to a razor's edge and to inspire fanatic loyalty.""Sadhbba: she is Father's spy master; with the exceptionally eerie talents of subterfuge, deceit and finding the weakness in others. She and I did not get along. Fiona could do it all, except for my talent.""Which is?" Chaz took over, since Pamela was waving me over for a close, quiet chat concerning her phone call."Fiona was an updated version of me. She was slightly better at everything I could do, except for one thing. I had Father's sixth sense about things. Fiona did not, and that was the reason she hated me so much. Father stoked our internal conflicts to keep us all on edge.""Good to know," Chaz understated his concern. "Do you have any intelligence on how, when and with what your father will come after our boy?" I wasn't insulted by the 'our boy' moniker. He wasn't calling me a child. He was telling Mom that I was 'one of the boys'   on his team. I felt all warm and tingly. My dearth of long-term male friends had meant I had never really been in a fraternity   the close brotherhood of men   before."Problem for you to deal with," Pamela handed me the phone. "It is Tabitha Loire." Tabitha? Vincent's   FBI Special Agent Vincent Lorie's   drop-dead gorgeous daughter. He had taken more than one bullet in Romania. I hadn't heard from him since that morning at the hospital, before being whisked away to the US via Germany. I remained a lousy friend."Hello? Who is this?" the weary, angry voice on the other end of the connection spoke."Cáel Nyilas. Tabitha Loire, what can I do for you?""What can you tell me about my Father?""Oh God! He is not dead, is he?" I grunted. Pause."No. No, Da is okay. He was released from the hospital a week ago. I would like to talk to you about what happened to him overseas.""He won't tell you?""No. Neither will his boss, or any of his acquaintances. Mr. Nyilas, he is down in the dumps and I want to know what I can do to help out. If you are his friend, you should help."I couldn't blame her for being both bitter and exasperated. She had run full tilt into the Great Wall of National Security and been stopped cold."How about I come down and talk to you?" I offered. "What I can tell you shouldn't go out over a phone and I have been remiss in not catching up with your father sooner.""Umm, when?""I'll take the next train down tonight," I decided. "We'll arrange some vehicles at the station. What is your address?" She hesitated. After all, she had Pamela's number, not mine and I was tied into her father being shot   badly. She gave me the address, her desire to know what happened overcoming her caution when dealing with strangers. "I'll give you a call when we arrive in Alexandria.""Train?" Juanita griped. Chaz pulled out his phone and called Agent-86 for both the next train from Penn Station to Alexandria and an update to Virginia and the Homeland Security people for clearance to bring along our ironmongery. Pamela looked at me with pride. So did Mom. Whatever Juanita's opinion of me was, it was concealed by her call to someone else   probably updating Buffy on my itinerary."Vincent was the Federal Agent who was wounded at Miercurea Ciuc?" asked Mom."I need to have a talk with Delilah," Pamela glowered."I want to be in the room when you do," Chaz agreed."Juanita   Penn Station and call someone at Executive Services to pick up our car. Long term parking there is a bitch," I related.Was it? I had no idea, but Alal apparently did. I had been to Penn Station three times; and I never had a vehicle that needed a parking space. All three times, Havenstone sent a car to pick me up. That was for my preliminary and final interviews, plus handling all the paperwork after I got the job.I'd left Bolingbrook in a U-Haul truck (without much in it) a week before starting work. I had an iron-clad belief I could find a place to live within that time span. That was all the time and money I had allotted to that endeavor. My budget had been tight, or so I believed.Unlike the other four chuckleheads who joined the New Directive, I hadn't received a signing bonus. Maybe I should have asked for one. Too late for that now."You taking your mother to meet Vincent?" Odette poked me. I looked from Pamela to Odette then back again.Sneaky-ass bitches. They were introducing my widowed Mother to a really nice, mature guy who was brave, a good father, a widower and all-around stand-up guy. He had a ready-made family, an oldest daughter my age. Beyond some physical similarities, Vincent was not much like Dad. Dad was a quiet, private man.By the nature of his job as a Field Agent, Vincent had to possess superior communication skills. Physically, they were nearly the same height, but Dad was broader in the shoulders. On the other hand, Vincent had both a warrior's spirit and the skills to back it up.But why Mom? Her life was more a disaster than mine, and mine was colossally fucked up."Don't get any ideas," Pamela put out there. Was she talking to me? "Chaz and I don't like you. Your father is a rat-bastard with a mind like a snake. We have no idea if you are yet another one his plots to get at Cáel."They were still taking her with us as we went to see Vincent in Virginia. Since this was going to be a quick trip   I had to be back at Havenstone at 6 a.m.   no clothing was necessary. Chaz received a call from Agent-86 with a follow-up call as we pulled up to the station. I didn't know the nature of the second call until we went to pick up our tickets for the 10:05 Northeast Regional.Waiting there was my old buddy and now sister, Wilma Draper/Ishara. I was at a loss why. It wasn't as if I needed more firepower than Juanita, Chaz and Pamela in the confined environment of a train."Wilma?""Hello Ish   Cáel," she smiled. She was emotionally pumped."What are you doing here?""Oh... Buffy told me that I was to be here on assignment to fulfill an Isharan obligation." This would be Wilma's first mission for House Ishara, no matter how brief and danger-free it might be. She was ecstatic.Huh? I couldn't recall any obligation I owed Buffy, or Vincent. Unlike every other Amazon House, things regularly happened without the Head of House's knowledge. Face facts: I was the least prepared leader the Host had ever had. I compensated by having hyper-competent underlings   the very best of the best Runners-turned-Full-blooded Amazons."Ah," Pamela nodded, sensing my loss of understanding, "A promise to provide Vincent a bodyguard was made in your presence. Being the highest ranking member of the Host present, and failing to pass on that knowledge, it falls to your House to answer that pledge.""Wilma, you are here to be Vincent Loire's bodyguard?""Only temporarily. The current state of affairs at HQ won't allow me to take more than three days leave. Your 'First' is seeking another appropriate Isharan for the task."I had totally dropped the ball.The initiative to bring JIKIT and the Amazons together was my creation. Katrina had approved it, yet it was my status as Chief Diplomat of the Host (as I had redefined that role,) that was responsible for that group, and thus Vincent. There was also another undercurrent to providing Vincent an Amazon bodyguard. I would be sending Vincent the message that he was still a valuable member of the team. His infirmity was simply a temporary difficulty.I gave Javiera a call. I suddenly needed to know Vincent's status with the FBI. A little past Philadelphia, she called back. Vincent was on long-term leave and, barring a positive physical assessment, he would never be going back into the field. They were making him a desk jockey for the rest of his career. That would be a heavy enough blow to the man to put him in the dumps.I made my view clear. As Unpaid Honcho Assigned to Unit L &  U HAUL, I wanted Vincent on my team   JIKIT's field team. I had plenty of lethal shooters. I needed a trained investigator and a veteran lawman to keep us aware of the niceties the world's legal systems wished to live by. I finished that off with a very regal "Make it so!" Javiera, my boss, hung up on me; though I thought I caught a laugh before the connection was cut."Pamela," Chaz turned to Pamela, "I am proud to call him 'brother'.""I think he is coming along nicely, Grandson Charles," Pamela preened. Wha- huh? My family had grown yet again. Grown yet again with people who were better than me."Does that make Aya your niece?" a sleepy Odette smiled."I guess it does," he nodded."Aya will love you," Pamela smiled."I hope Caitlyn loves him too," I smirked."A man could do worse than marrying an Amazon," Chaz blithely retorted. Less I forget, the Tomorrow Clan had its own long warrior tradition."Asking it to be three thousand years long is a bit too much," Pamela agreed with what I had not spoken aloud."On the plus side," I began."He's also getting several frisky sisters-in-law," Pamela finished. Hi-Five."Super Twin Powers Activate!" we proclaimed loudly.Fuck Ishara for taking Tad fi from me. I could be just like my Father. I could bleed off my pain with humor and look at my daughter with untainted love."When I grow up, I want to be just like you," Odette yawned. Which one of us she wanted to emulate wasn't clear.{Wounded, but not forgotten}{2:00 am, Wednesday, September 3rd ~ 5 Days to go}The tickets were one-way. Katrina was having a private jet come down at 4 a.m. to fetch me. We arrived in DC at 1:30. Two bleary-eyed State Department flunkies met us with an S U V and a sedan. We took the S U V ~ we had seven people ~ while they drove the sedan back so they could try to make something of the night that duty had destroyed.They looked curious about what this was all about and were a bit disappointed that no explanation was forthcoming from our crowd. We were polite, and I thanked them for their service. Being a decent human being doesn't cost you much and can pay serious dividends.The drive to Casa de Loire took thirty minutes. Juanita informed me the small airport I would be flying out of was a twenty minute drive, so I had roughly an hour and half with Vincent and his family. When we arrived, Juanita sent Wilma to make a 'walk-around' Vincent's home so she could get the lay of the land as well as keep an eye out for voyeurs.Pamela saved another series of frowns from Juanita by being the first person to the door. Tabitha had called her after all. Tabitha, Vincent's oldest and a Georgetown University senior, clearly didn't know what to make of us, and we weren't making it any easier for her by showing up on her stoop three hours after she had called Pamela.It wasn't going to get better. For starters, Juanita (and the not visible Wilma) had a MP-7A1. Ya know  military-grade weaponry. The door opened halfway. It was Gretchen Loire, the middle daughter."Hello. May I help you?" That wasn't her being uninformed about our imminent arrival. This was the child of an FBI agent allowing a stranger at her door to identify themselves instead of giving them a name to use."I'm Pamela Pile," my mentor answered. "This is Cáel Nyilas, my grandson. The gentleman to his left is my other grandson, Color Sergeant Chaz Tomorrow of the British military. To the left is Juanita Garza, my younger grandson's bodyguard   the one without a gun in his hand. The young lady in back is Odette Sievert, another one of your father's co-workers. The woman beside her is Sibeal Nyilas, Cáel's mother. Don't trust her   long story. A seventh member of our group is checking out your backyard. Her name is Wilma Draper.""You are heavily armed. Is my Da in trouble?""I want to talk to your father, if that is okay with you. I'll let Cáel answer your questions. He's our titular boss."'Thanks Pamela', I groaned inwardly.She was cute, exhausted and emotionally-vulnerable. Eager for answers and for someone to make sense of a world where her anchor   her father   had been nearly killed (not that his wounds had really been life-threatening). I hadn't had sex in over a day and that had only been a tension-breaker quickie with Odette.As we entered, it was obvious that Gretchen and her younger sister, Mariyah, had camped out in the front living room, catching some 'z's' on a recliner and a sofa with light blankets for covers. Mariyah was on the sofa, sitting up on her elbows and struggling to wake up.As Chaz shut the front door, Tabitha came down the stairs."Mr. Nyilas," she greeted me. Well, I was an infamous celebrity. I even had two Facebook pages (Nyilas Nailed Me! and Az  j Magyarorsz g kir lya (The New King of Hungary)) as well as four Instagram accounts devoted to me."Ms. Loire," I met her halfway and shook her hand."Call me Tabitha.""Call me Cabbage-Head," I grinned. That caught her off guard."Oh, kay, not what I expected." (I get that a lot) "We need to talk," she failed to stifle a grin."If you sleep with any of these girls, I will shoot you," Pamela warned me in Hittite."Excuse me?" Tabitha looked her way."Don't worry about it, Tabitha," Pamela gave her a congenial look. "I simply warned the boy that if he acted inappropriately, I would scar him.""Aren't you engaged?" she turned on me."Yes. Yes I am. Hana is a wonderful woman; beautiful, smart, with a big heart and a serious nature. Sadly for her, I'm a lousy human being, untrustworthy cad and perpetually prone to making bad decisions where women are concerned. Very bad decisions.""Miss, since my associate appears to be eminently capable of mangling the English language, let me help you clarify the situation: Cáel can't say 'no' where a woman is concerned. He can't even say, 'no, please don't hurt me', or 'no, not now. I'm talking to my date'.""Hi. I'm Odette. There are four sane people in this room and I'm one of them.""Says the woman who snuck aboard a transatlantic fight and hid in a place in the galley which you couldn't get out of," Pamela snorted."I got to go to Europe for free," she defiantly perked up. "Oh, and ladies," to the Lorie girls, "your father is a wonderful and brave male. (OK, too much time around the Amazons for her.) "He saved my life in Budapest.""He was in Budapest?" Gretchen."When?" Tabitha."Why?" Mariyah."We need to talk to Vincent  

Cáel saves a spirit and risks losing his soul.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.Life gives you two chances to get it right; be who you want to be, or who you need to be.(Making choices we can live with)"Trouble," Wiesława relayed to our vehicle. Velma had an 'issue' at my apartment. She'd gone ahead in order to see to my security. My GL-550 had come within a block of the apartment when Wiesława's call came."Tell me what the problem is," I demanded. Wiesława relayed my request."Your roommate won't let them search your bedroom," was the answer I got back."Fuck that," I grumbled. "Tell Velma I'm coming up. Wiesława, take us to the front of my place." She gave me a cautious look, testing my resolve. Sensing that I'd jump out if I had to, she spoke over her blue-tooth to Velma. She wisely didn't pass on Velma's vitriol at me poking my nose into my SD's business, protecting me.As we pulled up and double-parked, everyone piled out."Are we going to need any "extra" assistance?" Delilah suggested. Considering the flock of 'follow-up' cars and SUV's tailing us, I wasn't overly worried about the law enforcement angle.What was I worried about? It wasn't dark yet on a weekday and Timothy was home. Since Velma would have informed me if he was toting around the Black Death, this had to be a crisis of a personal nature, most likely my personal nature. Wiesława struggled to keep pace with me as I took the stairs three at a time. She'd given up on me letting her go first.At the third floor landing we came across one of Velma's team covering that approach. A second member was at the door and from inside, I could hear Velma cursing in Hittite under her breath. But first,"I really don't think you'll need your sword, Saku," Delilah advised. "Timothy's not that kind of trouble.""Hey Velma, Crewe (who, together with Constanza, I'd sparred with, way long ago) and Timothy," I loudly announced myself just as I stepped in. "What seems to be the problem?" Timothy sighed and gave a head-toss to my closed bedroom door. Since I didn't want to be an asshole, I turned to Velma. "Let me send a neutral party to check things out." I had so many to choose from, Miyako, Selena, Vincent and Delilah.Saku might kill on general principle. Buffy and Wiesława were Amazons and I was beginning to think that Amazons, shit. I sighed, groaned and lowered my head. I looked to Timothy and clapped my wrists together (slave-like). He nodded. Rhada. Mother-puss-bucket! What was I going to do?"I've changed my mind, Velma, the room is fine," I started off. "I know for a certainty that my life is not imperiled by my visitor. Everyone else, I am about to have sex, so could you please head out to a restaurant and give me an hour, or two?" I took in the rest. Timothy coughed and pointed to the ceiling. "Three hours, " another cough, "four hours." No more coughing."Who is it?" Buffy snarled, lest I forgot that I was her scratching post. She was resenting the lack of scratching going on between us. I was about to tell her I needed some private time,, or just not tell her anything. But I was working on not being a jerk. I pulled Buffy to Timothy's room and gave her the lowdown. She mulled over the information. Her wrapping a hand around the back of my head and pulling me into a steamy kiss was unlooked for."Okay," she smiled. "Please don't think I'm not righteously pissed with the two of you, but I know you are doing the best you can with your limited survival instincts.I'll take care of everyone." Off she went and in moments, the room had cleared out until it was just Timothy and me."She stopped by work this afternoon looking pretty badly beaten up, emotionally," he explained. "I doubt she's slept in three days and she's really confused about all kinds of things. I was in the process of letting her know you weren't going to be back for two more days when the Welcome Wagon arrived.I figured the last thing she needed, before seeing you, was public exposure," he said."Thanks buddy," I hugged him. "A few hundred guys tried to kill me and Aya last night, so we came back early. Now," I steeled myself, opened the door and entered my room. Rhada was at the head of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin and my pillows stacked up around her in some sad effort at a visual barrier.Her eyes had a sunken quality to them that suggested someone two steps past hopelessness. She was waiting for me to say something, which was an added truckload of bad news in my book. I began to undress in an unhurried manner. The shirt came off. Working the belt free came next."I've missed you," I said in a calm, yet positive manner. No response.I finished undressing while she remained frozen and emotionally clouded. I made some semi-educated guesses. Her mind was probably an incomprehensible cyclone of clashing upbringing principles and adult desires. She didn't need to be built up, Rhada needed to be rescued. That kind of emotional crisis was something I didn't need, or want, at this moment in my life.Rhada had nowhere else to go. Her martial bravery was of no use in the matter of her heart's insistent call. Her fear was of a different nature. She was looking down that unholy, dark corridor that was the last walk of all failed Amazons. She craved her personal slavery to a man and master. It was tough to move farther away from her native culture than that, or so she thought."Have you missed me?" I asked with authority. I ran two fingers along her left jawline. Rhada nodded. It was a rather feeble effort. "I asked you a question.""Yes," she sniffled."I am curious why you are hiding your body from me, Rhada," I prodded her. I wasn't 'curious'; I was peeved and she knew it"I don't know why I'm here," she moaned."Oh, " I mused. I was on her like lightning.She struggled weakly as we rolled around until she was ass-up on my lap. I had her right arm pinned to her back. Two sharp blows rained down on her covered posterior. Just two for now."I asked you a question. We both know your answer was inadequate," I spoke softly. Two more stinging, open-handed slaps to her buttocks. "I have defeated you in battle," two more smacks. "I have repeatedly taken you by force as my captive," two more with her accompanying moan."What makes you think you can defy me now, Rhada?" The promised blows did not fall. "I own you, don't I?" She moaned wantonly from anticipation of the spanking that wasn't coming. The lesson was simple: punishment and reward were mine to dispense, not for her to demand."I'm sorry," she mumbled."The incompetent are sorry, failures are sorry, useless people are sorry," I stated, followed by two more loud, cupped-hand blows on her ass. "People apologize when they commit an error. People apologize if they plan to learn from their mistakes. Now, are you someone else's miserable excuse for a human being, or are you MY person who learns from her lapses in judgment?""I bring shame to my people," she whimpered. Two more smacks fell upon her backside."Why do you insist on insulting me, Rhada?" two more, far harder, spanks landed causing her to gasp in pain. "Of all the Amazons I have defeated, I picked you to be mine, captive, no other. I thought you had the fierce spirit worthy of my fighting prowess.Your crawling up and dying inside disappoints me," I continued. It didn't disappoint me; it scared me. Rhada was so fiery and feisty. Seeing her mentally ground down into a crippled state ate at my mind."I'm afraid, Cáel," she choked out between her tears.The emotional riptide she was going through caused her to shake uncontrollably. I telegraphed my intent to move her, face down, to the middle of the bed. As I straddled her, I dragged her hands over her head and crossed her wrists. I nuzzled her shoulder, the crux of her neck, and ear."What are you afraid of, my captive?" I murmured.The term 'captive' along with the gentle affections brought forth a pleasurable response from her."I am perverse," she whispered. "I want you to take me as I cry and scream. I want to feel your body pressing down on me as you are doing now.I beg to be spanked, lashed, tease and tormented by you. Steal my sight and hearing. Render me helpless and utterly at your mercy, my Cáel," she pleaded. I'd allow the 'my'."And?" I mused."And?" she was confused."I was waiting for you to request something perverse, something I wouldn't do to you," I explained. I punctuated that by pulling her shirt aside and biting down on her shoulder strong enough to leave deep indentations on her flesh."Aha!" she yelped. She still wasn't making the connection, how incredibly stubborn of her."Do you doubt my bravery?" She didn't respond, so I bit into and worried her left earlobe. "Do you doubt my dedication to the Host?""No," she moaned. "You are an excellent warrior.""So we both agree I have earned the right to take you as my captive," I teased her."This is why I find your insolence to be so confusing," I kept up my routine. "It is almost as if you would rather be bound, whipped, beaten, spanked, bitten, lashed, covered with hot wax, blindfolded, and gagged instead of giving me my due obedience." Rhada's deep sensual moan was what I had been looking for. She spread her legs slightly then pushed her ass against my crotch."I am yours," she sniffled slightly. "You defeated me in battle and I can expect no other fate.""Dates take off their clothes. Slaves strip before their masters," I related. Not true. I had enjoyed multiple stripteases in my time and even give a few. What Rhada wanted to know was that I hungered for her naked flesh."You are on top of me," she protested. I pulled her braid to the side and chomped down her right shoulder. That earned me another squeal. Rhada's initial efforts were frantic, inspired by her pain. Within seconds she recalled our shared moments and slowed down. She knew I liked to watch her clothes come off and go back on. I'm odd that way.I rewarded her obedience with alternating kisses and nips to her freshly exposed flesh. As we progressed, Rhada became more insistent for sexual attention. Her finely honed thighs and abdominal muscles ground her buttocks against my cock in a continuous, circular motion. In our current state, she couldn't get her pants and panties off.When I rolled off, Rhada shot me a worried look. First she flashed up fear because she mistook my look for one of anger. In a second, she keyed to my real mood. I was going to own her, stretch her to her limits and then take it one step further. I was going to use my war captive as I saw fit, rip my pleasure from her passion and break her doubts down to their foundations.She shimmied out of her remaining clothing. I rummaged up the appropriate toys with a bit of an amused snort. Odette had organized the 'toy box' (including a bill for 'modernizing and updating' of my equipment.) What girl does that for a guy, categorize sexual aids she knows you are going to use on other women in your life?"Loosen your braid," I directed her after I turned and soaked in the view. She was in the center of the bed, kneeling with her buttock resting on her heels. Rhada's hands rested just above the knees, her great brown eyes had more of their old spark to them. Part of that was caused by my words sinking into her psyche. The rest was her love affair with my physique.Me and all my scars, plus I had a new one for her to judge and appreciate."Small caliber round from a Seven Pillar's QCW-Type 05," I informed her. Amazons loved their weaponry and their martial exploits."Did you kill him?" she asked with her intensity overcoming her attempt at a demur nature."Him and a bunch of other guys," I chose to answer as she unbraided her silky, black hair that cascade down to the small of her back. I was the son of a Chicago working stiff, not some super-soldier."You fought for the Host and killed our enemies," she tried to ease my mind.I wanted to feel bad about what had happened. The horror I had inflicted would never go away."Most of them were burned alive," I enhanced her experience by ripping open my own, fresh mental scar tissue. For Rhada, ruthlessness, martial valor and battlefield accomplishments were their own aphrodisiac.In her translation of events, her captor had proven yet again he was a fearless, masculine champion, a lion-heart. I put one knee on the bed and waited. Rhada had to shuffle to me. It was interesting to see the magnetic effect of the three items I held in my casual grasp, a leather collar, a thin silver-coated chain and a pair of leather handcuffs. I motioned with the cuffs first.I left it for her to discern my intention. I wanted her to put her wrists forward, yet I wanted to train her to know my wishes. Not only would it keep her mind and perceptions occupied, it would give her a needed sense of learning and broadening her education. It was a very subtle narrowing of the eyes that I used to tip her off.She half-turned with her wrists at her back, caught my 'displeasure' and then extended her arms toward me. I cuffed her right wrist, then her left wrist and finally cinched them together with their two bronze links, all the while demanding she retain eye contact with me. With our silent measuring of our true grit, we established our positions.Without that clash of wills, everything else would be tawdry trinkets of no value. As she accepted those bonds, she set aside her willingness to challenge me and embraced our new sense of harmony. A corner had been turned. Submission became the only outcome her destiny allowed. Mamitu; the Amazon belief that the Goddesses put nothing before the sisters that experience hadn't prepared them for.Out of arrogance, she had struck me. Destiny had prepared me for the fight and I had won. In tribute to destiny, Rhada had acknowledged the lesson and was finally learning from it. I yanked her wrists up roughly until they were extended high over her head. Rhada kept them there, as I intended, because now was time for the collar.This time she couldn't keep her eyes from flickering to the device until it passed beneath her chin. With the cuffs, I had been deliberate and relentlessly purposeful. The collar was an easy gesture, me exerting my rights as her captor and master, nothing more. I spared her a smile. Her dark brown-olive complexion, nearly black around the areola and nipple, was extended by the raising of the arms overhead for my viewing pleasure.Lastly, there was the chain. It had clasps at both ends, so I hooked it around the single ring on the collar and pulled Rhada toward me. I feasted on her lips, touched tongue to tongue inside and outside our mouths, and ended up chewing her lower lip. As I pulled and plucked it with my teeth, my fingers began to coax a stiffening of her teats.Gentle caresses turned into vigorous touching that evolved into painful pinches between the thumb and forefinger and energetic plucking. I let my kisses migrate from her lips to nose (briefly) then her cheeks and the underside of her jawline. Rhada made a gasping-choking noise as I nibbled her flesh.My distraction must have worked because she missed my hands moving down. The middle and forefinger of my left became a wedge working between her buttocks. With the right, I led with my middle finger, using my fore- and ring-fingers to part her labia. The clip-rings of the chain were secured on each thumb.Her fluids turned her sex into warm molasses coating folds of molten tenderness. My solo probing finger didn't penetrate, not yet. I ran the length of her vulva vestibule, rubbing her vaginal and urethral openings. Rhada expressed a piteous whine as I stoked her sexual frustrations. I ratcheted up my torture when my left twin fingers reached her sphincter.Tap the opening, tease her with false penetrations. My lips reached her neck right beneath her ear. I pulled in the flesh with a powerful suction, grabbing the tiny tip of taut flesh with my teeth. Her dolorous pleading ramped up as I delved my fingers in simultaneously. Rhada's anal ring pulsed, alternating between ushering my forefinger inside and resisted my progress.I was breaching her defenses without lubrication. It was wiggling, tentative advancement on my part and sensations of extreme sensitivity on her part. By comparison, her vagina virtually sucked me in. Having been denied sex for so long (if you counted two weeks as long) all the while fantasizing to the point of tripwire anticipation, she was quickly rising to orgasm."Do not," I cautioned her. Rhada trembled. Her groans became guttural as she reached down into her physical conditioning to exhibit some control over her racing heart rate and labored breathing. Had I stopped my assault, she might have held out. I didn't. The task for us both was to push her past the point of control. She was going to lose, that was given.How she lost was the lesson. What level of stimulation was going to be too much? She fought it with every fiber of her being. She fought it for me. Rhada sweated profusely and vibrated like a gypsy tambourine. She could not win. She knew I never intended for her to win. But I wanted her to reach down deep and fight.She would fail and I would punish her for her failure, but it would be a punishment that she felt was well-deserved, and she craved that. Even her failure was part of our dynamic, captor and captive. Pain with a purpose. Pain as a thread that united us. She could not wound herself the way I could. Everything she could inflict, she would sense and prepare for.I provided torment from unexpected angles and stimuli in a myriad of forms. Everything faded until only the touch and the pleasure of the messenger remained."Urah, " her opening declaration of the overwhelming tide was animalistic and desperate.For fifteen seconds I continued to play with her as her climax turned upon itself, building and becoming more chaotic. In the back of my mind, I realized my sex play was being cruel to my neighbors. I had to hope the anonymous death threats would keep Mr. Fiennes at bay.I'd deal with my 'friendly' female neighbor later, once I figured out how to repay her for her patience and the cookies she'd sent over when I was ill. For Rhada, it was a temporary cessation of my sexual attention and allowing her to rest her body against mine. I admired her ability to hold her arms aloft. Still,"You failed," I whispered into her ear. Rhada hiccupped. I dragged my fingers covered with her cunt juice up her pubic mount, abdomen, around the belly button and between her breasts. At the conclusion of the trip was the resounding 'click' of that end of the leash being attached to her collar. "I don't think you have been humble before me."I looped the chain around her shoulder, then dragged it over her left breast. She shivered. My next stop was beneath her right breast. Her nipple seemed to swell up as I rubbed the other loop all over her areola. Next under the right mammary, then looping the chain around her right arm before reaching around the back and securing the second clasp.It was both a symbol of her captivity and body ornamentation. The shiny silver links contrasted with her dusky, sweaty flesh.

Summer Camp Mayhem.By FinalStand. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The miracle is not a person jumping into a torrent to save another. It is the dozen who form a chain to pull them both out.(Midnight in the Grotto of Good and Evil)We were in one of the underground pools at the bottom of the mesa. Our tour guide had informed us there were nine known caves and the complex had never been fully explored due to the remaining waterways being totally submerged. It was well past midnight, all my little friends had crashed out and I had wisely ditched my security after Miyako silently woke me up with her hand over my mouth.She pulled my hand to her lips and sucked deeply on two of my digits. I took this to be an indicator to me she was in dire need of loving. The grotto was my idea. I was inspired by my desire to see her naked and I couldn't risk a light source any place but underground. The tool shed and garage lacked a certain appeal. The fuel depot and septic tank were also ruled out."Is the chaos in your mind still raging, Cáel?" Miyako asked in Nipponese, with enough worry to doubly enhance her cuteness."Which of the twenty-seven unexplained languages rolling around in my head do you want me to answer you in?" my toothy grin barely visible in the darkness.Around half way through my sexual enlightenment in college, I had a revelation. The two guys I had gone road-tripping with took me to a bar in Portsmouth. I caught a woman looking us over. I already had my one-night stand lined up and she was looking most agreeable to my nefarious skullduggery (i.e. she had come with some other guy who preferred beer and darts with his buddies over keeping his attention on what mattered).And then my awakening."Nah, she's too fat," he remarked. For one thing, my friend who said that could have stood to lose ten to fifteen kilograms himself. Next, we were dressed like middle class college kids, jeans, shirts that were most likely clean when we picked them out of the laundry basket, light jackets and the shoe thing.This girl was dressed up for a good night out. Nice makeup, her clothing choices were, eh, not stunning, but this wasn't a stunning nightclub/bar. She looked fun, she smiled and yes, she was overweight. It dawned on me that not only did I not care, I never cared. I was a sexual omnivore and that meant any lady interested in sex with me was fine in my book.So, I turned the tables on him."If you can score her number, I'll give you my watch," I dared him. The wristwatch was really nice, one of those $500 handmade German ones. One of my Ex's great-granddad had swiped it off some Nazi pilot in World War II, and the same girl gave it to me twice. See, by accident, as I was exiting the (thankfully) first floor window of the Natural Sciences building, she threw a pitcher at me.It had been sitting in an ornamental display case close by. I caught it, nodded to the flabbergasted female professor-type gawking at the semi-naked me, handed her the projectile, then fled like the responsibility-dodging coward that I was. It turned out that that bit of crockery was from the mid-1600's; the woman I'd surprised was the item's owner.That older lady wasn't a teacher. She was a major benefactor in charge of one of the school's larger endowments. Had it shattered, the Ex most likely would have been expelled. Instead, after watching me round the Chancellor's residence, the mature chick turned to the totally naked chick leaning out the window, still screaming at me."Is he on the track team?" she inquired as she handed the artifact back. They talked, agreed I was a miserable human being, a cad and had firmly developed buttocks. Well, I guess that makes me a pig with nice hams. The next day, I showed up to return the watch, it was just an excuse for one more round of sex.She explained the whole incident to me, took back the watch and sent me on my way. I hurried back to my dorm room, changed the sheets and picked up a bit. An hour later she was quietly knocking at my door. Rather epic make-up sex followed, she gave me the watch as a keepsake and I swore off intercourse in classrooms for two whole months. I'm a tower of resolute willpower, I know.Back at the bar, my buddy snorted, made some comment about her being obviously desperate and promised me he'd nail in her in one of the back rooms. They talked a little, he got 'friendly', then said something that really hurt the girl's feelings. She looked our way, steadied herself with a shot of bourbon and came over to me and my other bud."Did you tell that guy you would give him fifty bucks if I put a lipstick ring on his cock?" she confronted us."No, I told him you were too good for him and if he could get your phone number, I would give him this watch," I showed her the watch. The girl's face flashed back to 'cautiously curious'."Is it a nice watch?" she asked."It is a family heirloom. My great-grandpa brought it back from World War II after taking it off some high ranking kraut officer," I embellished. "I knew he didn't have a chance with you.""Thanks," she grinned. "I agree. Let me get my sister and we can get a bite to eat." Sex.Two guesses of who her sister was. If you guessed the girl I had been cultivating since I got there, you would be right. I am too damn lucky. Lads, the next time you blow a sure thing, blame me for sucking all the good karma away from you, and nine of your friends. I got a three-way. The guy I made the challenge to, got his revenge. He bailed and I had to hitchhike back to school. You know, female truckers, oh, back to Miyako.After stashing our clothing and weapons (all of mine anyway), I took a small fluorescent lantern and slipped into the water. Cold, but doable. Miyako joined me and then, by moonlight, we swam to the point where the guide had said we'd find a passage to a secluded grotto. Down we went. My motivation wasn't sex.That was coming no matter what. Seeing my Nipponese sweetie completely nude directed my course of action. Security protocols meant no lights after 11 p.m. My solution was to cut on a light that couldn't be seen from outside, the grotto. We felt our way along the rather wide submerged passage emerging well before air became an issue. I raised the lantern and cut it on.Our tour guru had forgotten to mention that the algae patches along the sides and bottom as well as the quartz veins on the roof and walls reflected the light over what must have been an eight by ten meter cavern. Gorgeous. We glided to a shelf that met our needs, climbed up and shared a high school 'nervous virgin' moment. She broke the spell by pulling herself out of the water and, standing on her tippy-toes, touched one of the roof veins.I drank in every inch of my little ninja babe's lithe, finely tuned body. Once she got over the newness of my voyeurism, she became playful, giving me a variety of silhouettes and poses. I stripped and returned the favor, which earned me a giggling fit. As I took a minute to sit down and stare into the tranquility of the still surface, she snuck up on me.She said it all with her eyes. I tried to speak, but she put a forefinger to my lips. 'Hold me forever,' her eyes relayed her intentions. 'Love me for all eternity and think of no one else but me.' My elbows were locked, supporting my upper torso as she hovered over my lap. She was a lone feather falling upon the unyielding stone.With one hand behind her, she guided my cock into the wet, luxurious vice that was her cunt. We took it in increments. A sigh more at home in whispered Nirvana than on mortal tongues escaped her lips as she nestled all the way down. We didn't fuck. We rocked back and forth in a timid motion.As Miyako became accustomed to me once more, she would lean farther back with each pulse until an in and out rhythm was achieved. I took the occasion of her victory to pluck her left nipple into my mouth. Experience had taught me that was her more sensitive one. For several seconds, she fought it before knowledge caught up with instinct, then she loosed her passion.After her vibrations subsided, she rested her body tightly against mine. I still impaled her and she was returning a fraction of that warmth."Do you ever think you will find true love?" she whispered into my ear, in Nipponese. I was drawing my finger through her damp hair as it trailed down her back."As in love one over all others, no," I confided. "Even if I did, I could never admit it.""Why not?" she asked in Mandarin.In French I explained; "My life is a mad race through the forest and I don't know if I am a hound or the stag. I don't dare slow down until I know, and that is no way to repay such devotion.""When do you think the race will end for you?" she moaned softly, in English."I would really like to hold a child of mine. I don't regret my life's path up until now, yet I leave so very little of me behind if it ends soon," I muttered in Nipponese, and then chuckled. "It used to be at the first sign of a pregnancy test, I would panic. The World turns very rapidly."A minute passed as she went from warm to heatedly sensuous."Less talk, more babies," she sacrificed her emotions for my well-being with her oh so naught Baby Metal band voice and questing fingers. How could I say 'no' to that?"I don't think it works that way," I teased."Let's find out." She implored me in NipponeseSometime later, I was lying on my back, Miyako's body extended over mine so that not one precious inch of her touched the cool slick rock surface. Considering our position and location, it took me a bit longer to notice the intruder. I thought she was all kinds of strange. Twin memories and perception joined forces for once.The woman moved through the water, yet she was only hip deep in a place I knew the bottom was three meters below. As she entered our isolated love nest, I noticed she had sent forth not a single ripple in the water. Memory filled in the rest. Her eyes, when her gaze met my own, had that void that comes from a tortured life punctuated by horrors you witness as well as ones you are forced to perform.That was from "me". The electron swarm inside my mind provided another crucial piece of the puzzle. Utukku, phantoms, dead denied entrance to the Nether Realms, trapped between, until some sin had been lifted. The spirit gave me a look of shock, then turned and fled."We are in danger," I hissed to Miyako in Nipponese, before cutting off the lantern.I dove in, angling for the tunnel we'd entered by. I was close enough not to jab my fingers into the stone surface as I clawed my way through. I didn't burst noisily to the surface on the other side. My approach was that of an alligator, slowly letting my head crest the surface so I could look around. No one was in evidence. Miyako was soundless at my side as we scramble to the hiding place of our gear.Miyako held my hand back until she was sure our belongings hadn't been booby-trapped. I had to make quick judgment call: how time critical was this? I went the 'clothes and weapons' route."What is going on?" Miyako spoke quietly."Back there, I saw a feminine Asian ghost and the last time I witnessed such a pained, hopeless look, I was confronting the Seven Pillars," I told her. "Their slave had that same doomed stare.""There are only two things here of value," Miyako made her assessment. "You and the children. You are far more accessible in New York City, so it must be the children." We pressed ourselves tightly to the cave sides when we heard the sound of footsteps coming our way. It was Charlotte, my minder for evening, with her bow notched and ready.Firearms were kept to a minimum after hours, so bows were the order of the day, except for the snipers on the mesa top. My movements must have alerted her. I sat down and continued dressing."Charlotte, the Seven Pillars know we are here, they know the camp is here," I told her."How imminent is the threat?" Charlotte knelt beside me. I didn't know."They must be close, to be making a reconnaissance of the caves," Miyako said with tactical certainty."It was drawn to you, Charlotte, you were out of place, so this thing looked further. Otherwise these caves are irrelevant," she added. Miyako had the mindset of a seasoned professional spy."The cavern and spring have a night guardian," Charlotte countered. "I saw her when I was following you two here."I had on my light bulletproof vest (no shirt), shorts (no underwear) and shoes (no sox)."Let's go check on her to see if she's seen anything," I suggested/ordered.What I had assumed was some sort of bedroll brought by Miyako turned out to be a Ninja Survival pack. This allowed me to weapon up while she dressed up. The amount of time we were taking still ate at my nerves. Charlotte stopped me from heading out first, only to be stopped by Miyako. The ninja slipped out like a cool desert breeze.(Friend, Enemies and those In Between)Thirty seconds later, a plastic BB bounced off my right shoulder. This time, I was leading Charlotte out. No one spoke. We couldn't see Miyako anyway, now dressed in her black pajamas and her face being reduced to just one slit for her eyes. We found the Amazon dead at her post. She was in a cunningly crafted blind not easily spotted from any direction.A quick sweep for 'gifts' left behind revealed nothing, but the corpse yielded plenty. She was shot multiple times with two separate flash and sound suppressed submachine guns. The woman had been alive when we came down and if there had been a firefight, Charlotte would have heard the shots, if not seen them; thus the suppression. The bullet holes suggested a small caliber weapon.Miyako stepped up, held up three fingers. Every piece of the Amazon's gear was still on her. The attackers had shot up her phone box. Wireless communications were deemed too risky so all the outposts had buried land lines. At this point, a few seconds of extra effort stood between the Seven Pillars and success; that and the Goddess Paranoia.Had the assailants yanked up the box and cut the phone line, it would have been rendered useless. Instead, they shot up the device and moved on so that when Charlotte pulled out the cache of concealed goodies, including the spare phone box, we were back in business. As Charlotte got to work switching out the busted for the back-up, I studied our situation.Advanced teams taking out the perimeter guards, and most likely the snipers, didn't make much sense. The camp had 300 highly motivated Amazons. Cutting them off temporarily from their armory and vehicles didn't make any sense, since all Amazons were armed anyway. That left timing. But timing meant nothing if I didn't have the goal of their attack.It came as a double-whammy. The Chinese place a high premium on family and the Seven Pillars had mastered a sadistic art form of turning young foreign women into their concubine/assassins. The Condotteiri would have slaughtered the entire camp. The Seven Pillars would want to kidnap the children, both as current bargaining chips and as future tools.500 girls, 400 could be kidnappable. The oldest would go down fighting with their sisters. How did you get 400 kids out of here? Helicopters? That would be a fuck load of helicopters taking out their team and the children. Besides, helicopters alone couldn't dig them out of their cave and cliff-face strongpoints.Desert, no waterways. That left the road. You couldn't use ATVs, not enough carrying capacity. The smart move would be to have tractor-trailers parked alongside the hard top state road. They would use smaller, more rugged trucks to ferry their captives out to the semis. That suggested some sort of 'cover/support' vehicles.2 half ton trucks with weaponized Hummers providing fire support a la 'Blackhawk Down' and that meant the bridge and the BBQ pit. That objective would solve both of the Seven Pillars problems, moving the main assault group into close contact with the Amazons so the Amazons couldn't organize a defense, and removing their hostages in a prompt manner so they all could be gone before anyone else could react.The Seven Pillars had to have secured the bridge and were mostly likely replacing the missing piers. It was the choke point of their battle plan. Worse for them, it wasn't part of a barricade where they could attrition the Amazon numbers with vehicle mounted heavy weapons. The ditch ran north-south, bow shaped with the arch to the west and was over a kilometer from the camp.The flanks were purposefully strewn with huge boulders that limited traffic to horse and motorcycles, no four-wheelers. They had to have control of the bridge, so that's where I went."Charlotte, I'm going to the bridge," I whispered before slipping out of the blind. I didn't order Miyako to follow me and I was sure Charlotte wanted strangle me for departing from her protective custody.There are four kinds of fights, be they between armies, or individuals. Set-piece (sparring), assaults, ambushes and meeting engagements. I was about to be in the latter one. Meeting engagements happen when opposing forces are set on goals that unknowingly intersect one another. One of the most famous battles in US history, Gettysburg, was a meeting engagement.I was using the bone-dry culvert because we feared the Seven Pillars had replaced our snipers. Miyako was, somewhere else. The enemy commandos used the same conduit to avoid having the remaining Amazon pickets spot them and raising the alarm. I had little doubt that the three men speedily moving south were heading for the grotto and its three inhabitants (Charlotte, Miyako and me).Not knowing that I could both see ghosts and guessed who its demonic masters were, they assumed we were still in the caverns. Me not knowing how this whole ghost-scout thing worked, I assumed that I had a chance of surprising them at the bridge if I moved fast enough. In a final prick of irony, they misinterpreted the role their snipers played in our engagement.They believed that their snipers would alert them if anyone moved on the bridge, ignoring the fact that the snipers didn't have a complete view of the gulch. I was only using the big ditch because I was afraid they had taken out the Amazon snipers and now had the high ground, which turned out to be true. Thank you, Goddess Paranoia.My first tomahawk was in my left hand and my Glock-22 was in my right. My fear of snipers and the bend in the gully saved my life. We literally ran into each other, me and the first 7P soldier. His long barreled Type-05 was pointing past my left, his torso slammed into my pistol, ramming his front armored plate against it as it discharged.The proximity muffled the sound of the gunshot. The bullet failed to punch through his impressive body armor, but the resulting force knocked him down and out. Unfortunately, our shared momentum knocked my gun out of my grasp. My right hand went for tomahawk two. The flattened man's team mates swung their submachine guns my way.Halfway through his shift, a black dart flew out of the western darkness, past the first one, then snapped back. The action caused the hardy thread to wrap around the barrel of his weapon. I couldn't see her, but I knew it was Miyako with her flying wedge with the thread attached. The middle guy was startled and not moving as his training dictated.That allowed me to use him as a shield against the third guy. Right as 7P #2 decided to release his weapon, I kicked him hard into the confused man behind him. Neither man went down, but I still got what I wanted.Guy number three's main weapon was trapped to his right as I rushed his left. Vainly he tried to get an arm up to defend himself. My right tomahawk shattered his forearm at the elbow joint. Only the body armor on the inside of the blow stopped the appendage from falling off. My rational mind was catching up with my instincts.These men had on head-to-toe ballistic body suits with knee guards and solid ballistic inserts for the front and back of the torso. They had on some sort of dull, dark-grey respirator mask which was why the armless guy wasn't screaming his head off. They also had matte black circular ear protections and a type of high tech visor on the ears and eyes respectively.The sole survivor was falling back, drawing his silenced pistol while trying to put some distance between us and find Miyako at the same time. Dummy, tomahawks are designed for throwing. A bit of Amazons indignation was behind that toss. His visor was cut in two as my anger drove the blade 6 cm/2+ inches into his skull.I heard a sharp crack of a rock being shattered. Miyako's graceful flip landed her at my side. I ran to the last victim, put my foot on his chest and put my right hand on the tomahawk's shaft. The guy reached up and grabbed the thigh of the foot on his chest with both hands. Shit, the fucker wasn't dead!

musing on:ethel cain's irony epidemic, the currency of being uncool, how complex traumaand the fear of individuation prime us for eastern/ new age spirituality “ego deaths”.

Welcome back to THE DISCOURSE, a podcast about film, entertainment & culture. In this episode, originally recorded in 2023 for a bonus tier, Tony and Carl talk numerous topics including the controversial right wing picture Sound of Freedom, plus how men engage with friends which turns into some unlikely therapy for one of the duo... Host / Editor Tony Black Co-Host Carl Sweeney Follow us on social media: https://linktr.ee/thediscoursepodcast Follow Tony & Carl: Carl: @CKJSweeney on Twitter Tony: https://linktr.ee/ajblackwriter Support the Film Stories podcast network on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/simonbrew Twitter: @filmstories Facebook/Instagram/Threads: Film Stories Website: www.filmstories.co.uk Title music: The Subtle Ones (c) John Ahlin via epidemicsound.com Get NordVPN 2Y plan + 4 months extra here ➼ https://nordvpn.com/fspn It's risk-free with Nord's 30-day money-back guarantee! - Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome back to THE DISCOURSE, a podcast about film, entertainment & culture. In this episode, originally recorded in 2023 for a bonus tier, Tony and Carl talk numerous topics including the controversial right wing picture Sound of Freedom, plus how men engage with friends which turns into some unlikely therapy for one of the duo... Host / Editor Tony Black Co-Host Carl Sweeney Follow us on social media: https://linktr.ee/thediscoursepodcast Follow Tony & Carl: Carl: @CKJSweeney on Twitter Tony: https://linktr.ee/ajblackwriter Support the Film Stories podcast network on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/simonbrew Twitter: @filmstories Facebook/Instagram/Threads: Film Stories Website: www.filmstories.co.uk Title music: The Subtle Ones (c) John Ahlin via epidemicsound.com Get NordVPN 2Y plan + 4 months extra here ➼ https://nordvpn.com/fspn It's risk-free with Nord's 30-day money-back guarantee! - Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textDescription: An immersive reading of A Prayer to the Asvins by Ghosha translated by H. D. Griswold with reflection on physician gods, Gosha, leprosy, praise and gift exchange. Website:https://anauscultation.wordpress.com/ Work: A Prayer to the AsvinsGhosha translated by H. D. GriswoldYour car, the swiftly-rolling:, circumambient,To be saluted day and night by worshippers,Asvins, that car of yours we here invoke,Just as the name of father, easy to entreat.Arouse the lovely hymns and make our thoughts to swell,Stir up abundant riches, — that is our desire ;Make glorious our heritage, ye Asvin pair ;Yea, make us for our princes like the Soma dear.Ye are good luck for her who groweth old at home ; The slow — yea even the slowest one — ye help him on ; Ye two are called physicians, healers of the blind,Yea of the feeble and the one with broken limbs.I call to you, O Asvins, listen to my cry,And give your help to me as parents to a son ; Friendless am I, bereft of relative, and poor,Save me, O save me from the curse which rests on me.Upon your chariot ye did bring to Vimada,To be his consort, Purumitra's lovely maid ;Came to the weakling's wife in answer to her call.And to Puramdhi gave the boon of motherhood.Unto the singer Kali, who had reached old age,Ye gave anew the boon of fresh and youthful strength ; 'Twas you that lifted Vandana from out the pit ;Ye gave to Vispala the power at once to walk.[...]Come on that chariot which is speedier than thought. That chariot, Asvins, which the Ribhus built for you; On yoking which the daughter of the sky is born.And from Vivasvat the auspicious day and night.This praise-song have we made for you, O Asvins, Have fashioned it as Bhrigus build a wagon ;Have decked it as the bride is for the bridegroom, Presenting it to you as our own offspring.References:Poem: https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.110065/page/n49/mode/2up Wendy Doniger. Hindu Myths Penguin Classics 1975https://chs.harvard.edu/douglas-frame-the-myth-of-return-in-early-greek-epic-6-evidence-for-the-meaning-of-the-indo-european-root-nes/ Cartwright, M. (2016, June 30). Ashvins. World History Encyclopedia. Retrieved from https://www.worldhistory.org/Ashvins/  Rig Veda: http://ancientvoice.wikidot.com/src-rvs:rv10-h30 Hyde, L. (2007). The gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World. Vintage.

Another day, another dollar, and every dollar helps us get to that elusive goal! Aaron Imholte is fully down a rabbit hole of hope, delusion and distraction as he keeps leaning in to imaginary crimes by the host of this program to misdirect you from the very real problems and accusations looming over his slowly-balding head. Josh Denny is losing it on Twitter about the recent show going over his reaction to another recent show, and Patrick is starting to think the two will never be best friends again. Johnny Krutches skipped a Steel Toe show, and Aaron used the opportunity to turn the knife even further in to his friends relationship. When will Johnny get fed up with Aaron's duplicitous nature and turn fully on the abusive and manipulative Minnesota ringworm known as Aaron Imholte? Tryhard comedian Chad Zumock is doing more shows than ever while making less money than anyone! Will he be better off with his tribal lover Godfrey at his digital side to fight his stupid online battles with him? ...

Our website - www.perksofbeingabooklover.com. Instagram - @perksofbeingabookloverpod Facebook - Perks of Being a Book Lover. To send us a message go to our website and click the Contact button. You can find Kelly Hill on IG @kellyehill_author . This week we chat with Kelly Hill who published her debut novel, A Home for Friendless Women, this year in March. It is the story of three Victorian-era women who experience a home for “fallen” women in very different ways. What makes this novel especially unique is that Kelly got the idea for it from her time interning at The Filson Historical Society while she was completing her dissertation at the University of Louisville. She came across historic documents about a home for pregnant women here in Louisville and fictionalized them to create a powerful story. While the story is about a tough time for women over a century ago. Books Mentioned In this Episode: 1- A Home for Friendless Women by Kelly Hill 2- The Age of Grievance by Frank Bruni 3- A Five Star Read Recommended by fellow Book Lover Tracey Myers-Quesada @cubadianmom3 - Finding Freedom: A Cook's Story; Remaking a Life from Scratch by Erin French 4- Prophet Song by Paul Lynch 5- When the Clock Broke: Con Men, Conspiracists, and How America Cracked Up in the Early 1990s by Jon Ganz 6- Washington's Gay General: The Legends and Loves of Baron von Steuben by Josh Trujillo and Levi Hastings            

Our website - www.perksofbeingabooklover.com. Instagram - @perksofbeingabookloverpod Facebook - Perks of Being a Book Lover. To send us a message go to our website and click the Contact button. You can find Kelly Hill on IG @kellyehill_author . This week we chat with Kelly Hill who published her debut novel, A Home for Friendless Women, this year in March. It is the story of three Victorian-era women who experience a home for “fallen” women in very different ways. What makes this novel especially unique is that Kelly got the idea for it from her time interning at The Filson Historical Society while she was completing her dissertation at the University of Louisville. She came across historic documents about a home for pregnant women here in Louisville and fictionalized them to create a powerful story. While the story is about a tough time for women over a century ago. Books Mentioned In this Episode: 1- A Home for Friendless Women by Kelly Hill 2- The Age of Grievance by Frank Bruni 3- A Five Star Read Recommended by fellow Book Lover Tracey Myers-Quesada @cubadianmom3 - Finding Freedom: A Cook's Story; Remaking a Life from Scratch by Erin French 4- Prophet Song by Paul Lynch 5- When the Clock Broke: Con Men, Conspiracists, and How America Cracked Up in the Early 1990s by Jon Ganz 6- Washington's Gay General: The Legends and Loves of Baron von Steuben by Josh Trujillo and Levi Hastings

The Tim Corrimal Show Episode 742 – May 5, 2024 On episode 742 of The Tim Corrimal Show, I am joined at the round table with Joe (Joseph Santorsa on Facebook and @Marnus3@mstdn.party on Mastodon) from The Poorly Written Political Blog, Cathy (@Cathy47204163 on Twitter and @CathyLarkin@sfba.social on Mastodon) and from the Let's Remember To Never Forget […] The post Episode 742 – Friends for the Friendless first appeared on The Tim Corrimal Show.

Poetry ≠ therapy? Show notes There's a lot of swearing in this episode. It also gets quite dark. The Friendless podcast guy What happened when I went for therapy — at a poetry retreat by Ian Belcher Deborah Alma's Poetry Pharmacy Why the Internet isn't fun anymore by Kyle Chakra Kiefer Sutherland Twitch The Possible … Continue reading "Ep 265. The Internet is for poems"

Come talk with Allie and Katie about A Home fore Friendless Women by Kelly Hill

Great leaders exist in every industry. When we think about great leaders we often remember the things they did. But what's more important is the impact they had on individuals, teams, organizations and society.For the second episode of our 2023 NYC Veterans Day Parade Series, Fran Racioppi and Psychotherapist Drew Newkirk welcomed two Green Berets from very different wars creating impact across generations. CSM Richard Rice served as a Green Beret in MACV-SOG in Vietnam and later became one of the founding members of Delta Force. Jason McCarthy served in 10th Special Forces during the Iraq war and went on to found GORUCK. Today they're swapping roles as mentor and mentee as they apply their lessons from Special Forces to entrepreneurism, fitness, mental health and building community. We show you how to build organizations on character, why we must embrace challenge, how to live a life of bias for action, and how society is shaped by America's Veterans after their military service. Drew also explores the difficulty elite performers have as they age and become friendless men; something scary to many of us. America became the greatest country in the history of the world because of a national call to service since the Boston Massacre. Today, the world is more dangerous than ever. It's time we bring America's people back together, rebuild our community and keep America atop the world order. Learn more on The Jedburgh Podcast Website. Subscribe to us and follow @jedburghpodcast on all social media. Watch the full video version on YouTube. Highlights:0:00 Welcoming a legend of the Special Forces Regiment8:34 Why need to do hard things; especially at GORUCK10:59 Preventing “friendless men”15:03 The character traits needed to succeed in elite organizations16:38 The films that shaped Rich's perspective on the military 18:00 Why America must maintain our national will in the face of our adversaries24:14 Veteran service transcends their time in the military and carries into society25:10 How mentorship builds great organizations28:18 Making the case for military serviceQuotes: “Throughout my entire life I've always looked for the challenge. Something to test me.” (5:02)“It isn't so much the military service…it's what those Veterans bring back and what they put into our society after they've served.” (5:30)“There's no other way to really know what someone else is made of unless you do something hard with them.” (10:17) “Have a bias for action in the real world and go get after it.” (13:56)“If you're not honest with yourself, you can't be honest with others.” (15:48) “We are in a peer-to-peer battle with not one nation, but a number of nation states.” (20:46) “America needs to come back together. You do that through communities.” (23:04)Brought to you in partnership with Just Ice Tea, Longtab Brewing & Talent War Group.

01. Antoine Clamaran, D-Plac feat. Sabrynaah Pope - Get Up (It Doesn't Matter) (Wh0 Extended Remix) 02. Tom & Collins + AMÉMÉ - Ando High (Extended Mix) 03. Peggy Gou, Lenny Kravitz - I Believe In Love Again (Jex Opolis Remix) 04. B.A.N.G! - Love Addict (Medesen Remix Extended) 05. Tony Romera - Share My Love (Extended Mix) 06. Juliet Sikora - The Other Side (Extended Mix) 07. Sgt Slick, Karina Chavez - I Thank You (Michael Gray Remix) 08. Belters Only x Sonny Fodera x Jazzy - Life Lesson (Dub Mix) 09. Paul Woolford x LF SYSTEM feat. Shayan - In My Head (Extended Mix) 10. GUZ x Piem - Get It On (Original Mix) 11. The Blessed Madonna - Mercy (Masters At Work Remix) 12. Shermanology x Boyz II Men - Mowtown Philly (Extended Mix) 13. Friendless feat. Thai Mason - There With Me (Extended Mix) 14. Disclosure - Looking For Love (Tommy Villiers Remix)

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today InPerspective with Dr. Harry Reeder June 21, 2023