A Little Normal: fanfic by sanders

That left the unfamiliar LA number that Ziggy had left.
I dialed it. A woman answered.
I was a wuss and hung up.
DGC, Joy Division


“Oh, my god.” I stare at Michael then at the shorter boy—man, I guess I should say, since I’m fairly sure he’s legal to drink—behind him. “Did you kidnap a rock star?”

“Louise, I can explain,” Michael says, raising his hands with his palms up. “This is… Ziggy. Continue Reading »

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I Will Dare

When we rolled into Albuquerque I was ready to not be cooped up in the bus anymore, but I wasn’t looking forward to being cooped up in my room either. And honestly I needed a break from a night of socializing the Nomad way, which even if it sometimes involved getting on a stage always involved heavy drinking. My head needed a rest, anyway.

So after putting my stuff in the room I dithered, and ended up wandering the hallway, and at one point Clarice stuck her head out her door and said, “You keep that up you’re going to wear a trough in that carpet.” Continue Reading »

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Art post: Daron’s solo album cover

ctan here! To quote from chapter 624 “How to be a Millionaire“, in which Daron and Remo visit Artie’s office at Wenco, and Artie shows Daron what the album cover will look like for his instrumental solo album:

Remember back when I went to take those promo photos? What we’d discussed was that my photo was for the back of the album while they were going to use some kind of nature photography on the front, which was their standard thing.

They had decided not to do the nature thing.

They had used a closeup of my face, so close that the only thing you saw on the CD cover/album cover was one of my eyes, and most of my cheek, where in the photo you could really see the fine tracks of the scars that had been made by the stage explosion. On the back was a little inset photo of the Ovation in a stand in the studio. And in lowercase letters, spaced far apart so that my name spread across the width of the album:
d a r o n
m a r k s
t r a c k s

Well, I was too braindead to write the other night, and so I bought the stock art to make this a reality. Technically it’s not “fan art” since I did it, but you know, I’ve always just considered myself the #1 fan of Daron’s, so count it as whatever you wish. :-)

I also didn’t attempt to actually represent the fine-line scars so you’ll have to imagine that part. (Honestly they’re only really obvious on his face when you really look for them. Or blown up to the size of an album cover, I guess.)

Click on the thumbnail to see it full size! And check under the cut for more views and for a small playlist of music…


Continue Reading »

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Moving in Stereo

The next day was a day off. We had a six-hour drive to Albuquerque and we did it in the middle of the day. So there was no show, but there was a lot of time in the bus. Perfect time to work on Fran’s song, which you may remember we were going to do in LA. We commandeered the back lounge—her, me, and Clarice. Continue Reading »

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Understanding AIDS and the world of DGC by Amanda

I was inspired to highlight this significant event when I read Joe’s timelines (thanks Joe!) posted in May. I work in Health Promotion and am really interested in how community attitudes shape our approach to health.

Understanding AIDS, June 1988.

Approximately 107 million English-language versions of the brochure, Understanding AIDS, were distributed to every home and residential post office box in the U.S. between May 26 and June 30, 1988 and a Spanish-language version was distributed in Puerto Rico during that period too. This was the first time the U.S. federal government attempted to contact virtually every resident, directly by mail, regarding a major public health problem. Pre-internet, pre smartphone, this was a major undertaking by any government. Not the least significant aspect of this was the subject matter itself.

“Some of the issues involved in this brochure may not be things you are used to discussing openly.”
(Dr. Koop in the introduction to the brochure.)

Continue Reading »

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What Kind of Fool

Why do I always upchuck in Texas? Is it something about Texas? I think it must be.

The less said about Dallas the better. The show was fine, really, except for me drinking too much whiskey and not enough water. (Or Gatorade. When I mentioned that Colin used to essentially force me to drink an entire bottle of the stuff before every encore Flip was like “why didn’t you tell me that before?” and took it on himself to start doing it.)

Just as well we left Dallas right after the show and when I woke up we were in Colorado. This may be why sometimes in the map of my mind those two states are really near each other and sometimes they’re not. Sleep long enough and your tour bus can go really far. Continue Reading »

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Daron, Colin and Ziggy by Amy Crook




Another gorgeous artwork from Amy! You can find more Daron’s Guitar Chronicles art at Amy’s etsy shop.

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Way Down Now

The New Orleans venue looked familiar because it was. Moondog Three had played there in 1989. In fact one of our band stickers was still prominently displayed on a supply cabinet in the green room there, a metal cabinet so scuffed and dented that for all I know was held together by all the band and promo stickers on it.

I know. I said “our” band stickers as if I weren’t there with a different band. That just goes to show how I think about it, I guess. Moondog 3 would, and always will, be “ours”/”us” in my mind.

We rehearsed the “For No One” interlude during sound check, which is to say Charlie, Remo, and I showed it off to the rest of Nomad and the backing musicians, who loved it. Continue Reading »

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Five Fun Freebies by Lenalena

Besides our beloved Daron, there is a lot of free fiction on the internet. Not everything is good. There is a lot of dross, but there are many gems as well. In this contribution to the Thursday posts I am going to share a few of the original (not fanfiction) short stories that I have found worth reading over the last few years, in the hopes that you’ll enjoy them as well. All of these have m/m themes. All of these are fun, (relatatively) short and, best of all, they are free! If you have others to share, I’d love to see your recs in the comments!

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Message of Love

I didn’t hear until after the show, but the word was that the St. Louis Arena had sold out, so I guess the national anthem thing worked out. The band was in the bus and rolling out of there before midnight. It was a long overnight drive to NOLA, and we weren’t sleepy right away, so me and Remo and Flip sat in the back lounge and passed a bottle of whiskey and played guitar for a while.

When I woke up it was well into the morning and we weren’t there yet, and I had slept six or seven hours. I brushed my teeth again and went back to my bunk and slept again, probably two more hours? Until we arrived. It felt like a lot of sleep.

We were at a big hotel on Canal Street, at one edge of the French Quarter, where I’d stayed at least one other time. We got checked in pretty easily and then Remo asked me if I could amuse myself until sundown while he took care of some business. I told him of course I could: me and Charlie could rehearse. We agreed to meet for an early dinner.

Charlie and I rehearsed for about an hour and then he wanted a nap. I went out and found myself some lunch in the French Quarter and wandered around listening to street musicians. The temperature was perfect, in the high seventies and not too humid.

It was late afternoon when I made my way down to the gay end of Bourbon Street and got a drink at one of the bars there. I cruised by sitting still at one of the upper level bars and making eye contact with people–men–as they went by. When I’m on a bar stool you can’t tell at first glance how short or how nervous I am.

I was trying to take Colin’s advice seriously. Ziggy’s advice, too. If I didn’t get my balls emptied on something like a regular basis, I would wind up until I snapped. The bus was not a good place to wank, and neither was the bathroom if Flip was in the bed a few feet away.

Did you know that about 98 percent of oral sex feels exactly the same with a condom on? At least when you’re the one getting blown it does. At least on my dick. Giving head to someone wearing a condom, on the other hand, feels really different to me than when they’re not.

And I’m bringing this up now because? Oh, no reason.

I was in a knickknack shop, working my way back across the Quarter to meet Remo for dinner, when Ziggy’s song came on the radio. “People can NOT get enough of this song!” the deejay said. “Maybe that’s because you can’t buy it, can’t get it on CD, album, or tape. It literally arrived in our office on a reel with a ransom-style note attached to it, but it’s pretty obvious who this is. Heck, we don’t even know the title of the song, so we’re calling it ‘Breaking Chains.'”

Why it took until that moment for me to grasp what the stunt was about, I don’t know. But I suddenly realized the song wasn’t about Ziggy breaking free from me, it was about record company control. Maybe it was even about breaking free of genre. And it was a brilliant stunt because they got all this buzz, all these radio stations playing it, and people calling up and requesting it, specifically because it was something they couldn’t sell.

And the reason they couldn’t sell it was because presumably you couldn’t put me and Ziggy together on a record at BNC right now without someone in the legal department having a conniption.

Fucking brilliant.

Remo and me and Alan and George met two musician friends of Remo’s and we all ate in a little private dining room at one of the really fancy-schmancy places, but I guess because we were in a private room we didn’t have to have jackets and ties on. We stuffed ourselves quite well and then the two friends–who it turned out were a banjo player and a percussionist Remo knew from folk festivals– took us around to some clubs to hear music.

We hit three different places, and each place had a two-drink minimum, which probably didn’t apply to us “guests” but I wanted to respect the rules, you know? And then we ended up back at the hotel playing music ourselves and you know, I’m at my most whole and functional with a guitar in my hands, so I think I made a good impression on Remo’s friends even if I was pretty drunk by then.

And then I paged Ziggy and fell asleep.

When I woke up my eyes felt like they were full of burning sand. Then I realized I had opened them because the phone was ringing. I picked it up and covered them with my other hand. “Hello?”


Ziggy. God. Ziggy. “Holy shit I miss you,” I said.

“Are you even awake yet?”

“No. Which is how you know it’s the truth. Actually can you hang on a second?” I put the phone down and went to the bathroom because my bladder was dangerously full. Then I drank a little water and puked it up immediately because it was too cold. One thing at a time, I guess. I brushed my teeth carefully, then had a tiny sip of water and it was okay. Okay.

I went back to the phone. “Still there?”

“Yes. Hangover?”

“How’d you guess?”

“This is a New Orleans phone number, you know.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, it is.” I sat on the edge of the bed. The other bed wasn’t slept in and I wondered where Flip had spent the night. “This is the same hotel where you and I had an epic epic epic fight a couple of years ago.”

“Our first.”

“Was it?”

“Our first epic fight? Okay, to be clear, our first epic fight that wasn’t about music. I mean, that was about…us.”

I lay back on the bed. “I’m a moron. I actually didn’t call to tell you that. I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“Because, deep down, you’re still mad about it?”

“No. I don’t think I am. I just…it was a coincidence, and I just can’t keep my mouth shut. Anyway. The reason I called.”

“You just wanted to hear my voice?”

“Yes, but also because I have been hearing your voice. All over the freaking place.”

He didn’t say anything but I could hear rustling sounds that I could easily picture were Ziggy doing a victory dance.



“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, asshole.”

There really wasn’t anything important to say after that.

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