For Aimee's birthday the plan was to get her first tattoo. She was a blond hair lady with a wide bust, huge hips and big *****. Her ***** were one of her best assets she loved to see her body as her canvas her  piece of art; she got her  mind set on getting a rose and heart near her ***** and chest.

She went online booked an appointment in the nearest tattoo parlour to book her consultation to meet the tattoo artist who will be working on this project with her and this was where she met MR Pain.

MR Pain was an  average built man with some muscle tone on his legs and arms. He had tattoo's covering every flex of his body. He wasn't much of the talker in the first meeting more of a quiet and down to earth man. He asked

“ Okay what part of your body would you want the tattoo?”  

“She shyly said “my *****”

His eyes gleamed started to fixate on them as he chuckle

“ well that can be arranged”
I hope you have you brought a design or a piece of artwork with you so I can see a visual design of what you what to have done on your skin”

she took out the picture, he attentively looked at it for half hour and said

“heart and a rose…
this…
could take a few sessions…  
depends on how much detail you want in your design”

He randomly blurted out

“Mmm… I love your *****”.

“More to the point – serious question would you to be able to take on pain? think about it first.

I could show you want you be facing up to with an early demonstration just sign the contract it'll be my treat for your 18th birthday do you fancy hooking up for a drink at my place”

Aimee couldn't see much in the contract the print was tiny; she felt his warm gaze and grin darting around her as she tried to make out what it was saying. His eyes hypnotic and calculating

“Do we have a deal!”

Aimee smiled and nodded she signed her name and said
“can see no wrong in that” its only a drink”

Mr Pain with rasping voice replied

“Excellent!”

Aimee shyly said “should I bring anything with me?”

Mr Pain shrugged

“Nah, I got plenty of drink”
everything we need is here at my place,
don't worry bring yourself
will order a taxi my treat”.

As soon as Aimee got home she had  a bath in honey and milk bath oil. Her ***** were like two huge sunken peaches glazed out in the sun. She got out of her bath robe and placed a long black dress and heels with pink lipstick.  All ready for the evening, she entered the taxi the driver was glaring at her  through the mirror

“You look nice!
“where you going to?”
Aimee gave him the slit of paper with Mr Pain's home address:

the cab driver looked horrified
he silently started to mutter to himself

“that place”,
“another victim;
she’s the third woman this week  
I would be careful with MR Pain,
“I have heard many stories”

Aimee shrugged

“Are you sure?
Can't be the same man
I know ”

Taxi driver shook his head.

“For **** sake
another dippy girl,
what's the world coming to
this is why I hate my job”

He opened up the cab door. Aimee stepped out the taxi

“Thanks for the tip.
Have a good evening.
be careful hunny”  

III MR Pain's Headquarters

Mr pain was waiting outside in the garden.  Dressed head to toe black. His grin slightly twisted and eyes gleaming in the sunlight.  

“Good of you to make it.
Aimee looking beautiful,
make yourself  comfortable.
I will be back with you shortly
I'm with another client.

Aimee waited in the living room for mr pain she could hear random screams and sound of crashing whips from downstairs wailing sounds of another lady
crying out
“ yes master will do what you want”

Aimee was  shaken up by the noise but turned on by the intensity of it all. She laid on the sofa and circled around her ******* with her fingers while doing this she was unaware mr pain was watching her through the CCTV camera. His voice loud and commanding

“I take it your ready for the demonstration”

Aimee stopped what was she was doing
feeling startled by his voice and stammering

“Yes- I - am”  

“Excellent – it may surprise you,
put the blindfold on it is on the table
there will be someone that will
take you through to the main room”

Aimee was feeling anxious and shaken now there were so many things going through her mind

what was the demonstration about ?
Why was there whips and screams?
why was the taxi driver talking
about girls being victims  

“I feel tired mr pain
wish to go home”

“Nonsense you got here,
your not going anywhere
you'll love it”

The figure placed the blindfold over her eyes; led her through a dark tunnel. The room was a cold and damp there were two other girls  with blindfolds being chained and whipped to the wall. Their skin looked as if they had at least 2 lashings a day from the whip there were bite marks and bruises around their body pleasure apparently was substituted equally with the pain. Mr pain got his whip ready; Aimee could not believe what she was seeing around her.  

“Your a fraud, your no tattoo artist
your a *******
a dangerous man
I knew I should have listened
to the taxi driver”

Mr pain voice raspy but more commanding now

“Yes you should have your going no where until my little demonstration is complete
then you can go free ”

He took out the gag from his pocket and placed it on her mouth so she could not speak, grabbed out the  whip and gave her a lashing; followed by gnawing on her ******* and chest;

“You feel what pain is"

He laid her on the table restrained her arms and legs she can not move and fight his advances. He licked her *******; making his way to her ***** licking up and down then in circular movements while Aimee was moaning she started to ***; he then took out what looked to be a huge ***** from the cupboard; pushing it into her ***** her eyes rolled to the side she started to squirm, she didn't know whether to squeal or scream  as pleasure and pain were intensified and felt equal in measure. His **** grew in size with now a huge  hunger in his eyes he pushed his **** further into her making her legs weak and squeal he could feel her heat up and ****** all over the table: he then rolled her to the side and pushed his **** into her *** pushing it all the way in he could now hear her muffled squeals as he fill her up with his ***.

“Demonstration is over; your free to go: taxi will pick you up, its up to you if you return for more but if you say anything about this; I will find you and you'll be back here and will belong to me”  

Aimee quickly put her dress on her. Looking shaken and tired, bruises and marks on her sweat and *** on her too she went straight for the cab. The driver took pity on her and didn't charge her  for the ride.  It was all a distant black memory she didn't say a thing. it was all a blur, a dark secret she was worried about the other girls; did they escape in the end from the crutches of mr pain or did they chose to stay there with him: she was just happy to escape and be free.

In the fairy tale, Aimee was bad at heart,
a pretty shell that promised a pearl and
when cracked open, gave grains of sand
instead. It scratched the surface of the eyes
and misled; Aimee was just one of those pretty
Jezebels, cruel within, decorated without.
Her sister Aurore was the heroine,
a fatalist, who sighed her philosophy:
'What will be will be' and her patience and
good heart tugged her towards the coincidences
that always favour the light.
But Aimee was driven away by her own wickedness,
and had not the luck of the good.
All Aimee had was the face.

These are the kind of stories I am tired of because
I want to tell you that when Aimee was just a
small girl, she sat and watched her mother scrutinise
her appearance in the mirror. She watched as she
painted her face and knew then that she was just a painted
beauty, a kind that easily peels off. How little it
mattered though, as her mother smiled at her jewels.
Painted or true, her mother had succeeded through
beauty. So Aimee saw no good in the kind and the patient,
who suffered and accepted their suffering. She chose an
ambition called wickedness and she wore it like a petticoat
beneath the blue ballgown. Aimee was the kind of girl
to get what she wanted. Her mother had taught her
that her face was the only kind of fatalism she could follow.

I am tired of these fairy tales that give undefined shapes.
I'm tired of the dichotomy between the good and the bad.
I'm bored of the light always finding their happily ever after.
Just tell me the story of the dark and tell it properly.

The whole
Thing started from dropping
The wrong name
At
The wrong time.

"And
How do you know
Adam?"

"Who?" She asked, stepping back. A look
Of horror was painted on her already
Heavily painted face.

"Adam...the guy's who's throwing
This party..."

I knew
I had made
An error.

"Who will pay?"
I thought.

"I'm throwing this party," she hissed, "Who
The **** is ADAM?"

I answered instantly.

"The guy manning
The grill with the Acapulco shirt
And yellow pineapple sunglasses. He
Said he organized and is
Running this whole thing..."

If an Australian wolverine mixed with
A Bay area Marina girl combined and birthed
Their rage into a single ball of high-powered,
impenetrable violence, bent only to destroy
Only who had crossed them well, that is what I witnessed
That night.

Her pupils
Became enveloped in a hot rose red.

Her cheeks, which had been
A pretty pink rouge color just a minute before,
Instantly switched into a purplish, slug-like color.

The blood within looked to be
Literally
Churning.

At one point, I swear I saw smoke coming
From her ears while her lips shook so bad I thought
She was going to ***** bile.

I didn't say another word.

I let her pass.

There was nothing I could do.

She put his face
In
The grill.

What I mean by "in the grill" is
That she whipped the metal grate off barehanded,
Proceeded to grab a very
Surprised Adam, and shoved his face
Into a searing ashy pie of red hot coals.

If it were a pie,
Everyone would have laughed, but because
It was red-hot-coals hotter than fire,
Everyone screamed.

I've never heard a man howl so loud.
It sounded like a million new born babies crying
When he hit the fresh summer grass.

A few girls screeched in fear, but everyone else
Gasped, looked at Aimee (the name of the actual
Thrower of the party), and took a few steps back.

No one was sure what she would do next.
And then,
She did.

"YOU PIECE OF MOOCHER
****!" she screamed.
Her eyes had washed over
Completely black.

I stood behind the screen door between
A shivering 1st string linemen who played for
The ducks and a pre-law major. Pre-law had
Wet himself at the sight of Adams meeting
With the coals. He didn't even make an
Effort to cover it up.

There was no shame anywhere anymore.

"YOU COME MY HOUSE, TO MY
N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R-H-O-O-D, AND YOU
HAVE THE ******* AUDACITY
TO SAY YOU'RE THROWING THIS PARTY!"

"Hey Aimee, I think
He's really hurt..." her friend
Tried to say. Aimee whipped
Her hand back and
Caught the poor ******* the lip.
It split instantly and she let out a
desperate cry. She whimpered and
Slunk back to whatever corner she
Had come from.

"IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR SLIMY LEACH
*** OUTTA' HERE NOW, I'LL POOR THESE
******* COALS OVER YOUR **** CORPSE!"

Adam tried to say something, anything, but
All that came out was a slow whimper.
It sounded like 0"help...me..."

No one dared move.

Then, she kneeled down and got
Very close to him. His face was
The texture of
Cheap, overcooked steak.

Her voice was quiet as
She spoke,

"And if you dare tell the cops
About this," she whispered, "I'll find
You. These are all my friends, you
Understand?"

Adam didn't say anything.
His eyes were locked on the ground.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU
LITTLE PIG ****! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE
A POMEGRANATE!
PIECE BY ******* PIECE!"

She exhaled. She calmed down. Her eyes fluttered
As she threw her hair back, regaining
Her composure.

Then she began again,
"Do you understand?"

"Yeshhh," Adam struggled to say.
A piece of skin
Was hanging off his scorched lip,
Interrupting his speech.

"I didn't quite get that," she said,
Almost apologizing.

She got closer,
Reached for the dangling piece
Of skin, and viciously ripped it clean
From Adam's face
Like a child would a band-aid.

"OHHHHHHHHHHH!"
We all yelled.

Adam screeched another
Furies howl and rolled over onto
His back. "I UNERSTAND! I UNERSTAND!
I UNERSTAND!" He wasn't
Able to pronounce the D, but Aimee
Looked to be letting it slide.

"Good," Aimee said simply, "Now,
GET THE **** OUTTA' HERE!"

A tiny guy in a ducks
beanie and board shorts struggled
To pick Adam up. Adams
Eyes had rolled to the back of his head
And his breathing looked to be
Getting dangerously shallow.

He had ****** himself too.

The tiny guy and what looked to be
His probably now ex-girlfriend got him out
The back gate, onto the street, and into
A car. I don't think they would
Be calling the cops on Aimee.
For their sake, I hoped they told the emergency room
He had tripped and fell into the grill.

Aimee looked around at
All the stunned faces of her party.

She grinned, revealing
A very attractive row
Of perfectly white teeth.

"WHO NEEDS A SHOT!" Aimee screamed.

There was a pause. All
Was as still as the graveyard
Up the street.
That reminded me of a story a friend
Had told me.

He had decided to do mushrooms
After a hard rain. Being high, he
Needed something to do. He went on
A walk and while walking, passed
A graveyard, the graveyard I was thinking of.

He stripped down to his tighties
And bathed in the mud of the graves.
I remembered asking him if he was scared
While he did this. "No," he laughed.
I asked him why and he answered frankly,
"Even the dead need to bath."

Behind the screen door, I instinctively wooed.
It's like a knee-**** reaction. I didn't even really
Want to take a shot. I wanted to leave, badly.

"YOU!" she screeched.
Her dagger finger was pointed
directly at me.

"YOU AND ME
ARE TAKING
A SHOT!"

I looked over my shoulder, to the left and
Right of me, but there was no one there.
The spineless **** and pissy-pants leech
Were gone.

Aimee marched toward me. Her eyes
were Enflamed with the intense need
To drown out whatever she had done in the past
With highly toxic amounts of alcohol.

She grabbed me by the arm and
Tossed me in the kitchen.

"Tequila..?" she asked, "Or whiskey?"

I bead of sweat
Slid down my
Brow.

The answer felt as if it could
Determine
The rest
Of my life.

"How bout' both?" I managed to say.

She eyed me down.
I think she thought
I was trying to make fun of her but then,
She saw
I was serious.

"I love you," she said.

"Let's drink," I told her.

And that's how

I met my

Ex-wife.

Odysseus needs a job he calls pima community college art department chairperson sends her his resume she does not respond after a week he catches her on phone she says he lacks proper credentials laughs to himself his whole life never worked lucrative or reputable position gets job working at thrift store wacky group of coworkers customers store frequently smells like public latrine job expires after 7 weeks he gets better paying job working at record exchange Odysseus always loved music everyday he learns new artist or band his coworkers are at least half his age they pester him about being slow on keyboard he never learned to type neither he nor his generation could have foreseen future would revolve around keyboard he plods on register keys people smile politely kids he works with fly fast making many keyboard mistakes November 29 2001 george harrison dies of cancer he is 58 years old Odysseus recognizes he is from past world different era of contrasting standards ‘80’s behavior is totally unbefitting let alone ‘60’s beliefs it is 2002 and one badly chosen word is sure to send someone flying off the handle he watches his language carefully co-workers mostly born in 1980’s grew up in 1990’s they live indifferent to hopelessness he struggles to bear none of them believe in higher power music is their religion he wonders what their visions concerns for humanity are? they seem addicted to consumption as if it is end in itself he questions what is hidden at root of their absorption? loneliness? despair? apathy? absence of vision? where is their rage against social conversion current administration? he warns them about homeland security act privacy infringement increased government secrecy power they shrug their shoulders why aren’t they looking for answers? why don’t they dissent? do they care where world is going? he realizes they will have to learn for themselves few coworkers read literature or know painters philosophy their passions are video games marijuana “star wars” most of them are extremely bright more informed than he often Odysseus needs to ask questions they know answers to right off the bat he is like winsome uncle who puts up with their unremitting teasing “hey you old hippie punk rocker get you fiber in today? stools looking a little loose! peace out old man” in peculiar way he finds enough belonging he so desperately needs they tell him stories about their friends *** addictions eating disorders futile deaths he is bowled over by how young they are to know such stuff job includes health insurance which is something he has not had since Dad was alive having some cash flowing in he buys laptop computer with high-speed connection cell phone trades in toyota for truck opens crate of writings he abandoned in ‘80’s begins to rewrite story sits blurry eyed in front of computer screen his motivation has always been to tell truth as he knows it he wonders what ramifications his labor will bring positive or negative results? he guesses his story will sound like children’s fable in stark brutality of distant future october 2002 3 week ****** spree terrorizes maryland virginia  district of columbia 10 people killed 3 critically wounded police believe white van responsible october 24 man and 17-year-old boy arrested in blue chevy caprice juvenile is shooter assailants linked to string of random murders including unsolved shooting of man at golf course in tucson Odysseus mentions incident at work speaks of prevailing terror madness in america co-workers kid tell him he is crazy “did you see a white van parked outside the store Odys?” they seem desensitized to increasing national atmosphere of anger panic or perhaps they are overwhelmed by weight trauma of modern life lie after lie prevailing  havoc slaughter make for dull numbness in world they know suicide is compelling option december 22nd 2002 joe strummer dies from heart failure at age 50 Odysseus’s eyes wet he adored the clash everything they stood for loved joe strummer and mescaleros he plays “global a go-go” over and over listens sings along with first track “johnny appleseed” march 2003 president bush launches attack against iraq united states seems drunk with “shock and awe” zealous blind patriotism many people politicians countries around globe question unproven line of reasoning saddam hussein possesses “weapons of mass destruction” Odysseus gripes “not another **** vietnam” record company allows employees to check out take home used product Odysseus stopped watching movies in 1980’s he has lots of catching up to do particularly likes “natural born killers” “american history x” “american ******” “fight club” “way of the gun” “******” “king of new york” “basquiat” “frida” “*******” “before night falls” “quills” “requiem for a dream” “vanilla sky” “boys don’t cry” “being john malkovich” “adaptation” “kids” “lost in translation” “25th hour” “28 days later” “monster” “city of god” “gangs of new york” “**** bill” list goes on perfect circle becomes his favorite band followed by tool lacuna coil my morning jacket brian jonestown massacre flaming lips dredg drive-by truckers dropkick murphys flogging mollies nofx stereophonics eels weakerthans centro-matic califone godspeed you black emperor magnetic fields fiery furnaces dresden dolls smog granddaddy calexico howie gelb sufjan stevens warren haynes dax riggs john vanderslice alejandro escovedo sean paul elephant man bjork p. j. harvey ani difranco aimee mann cat power sophie b. hawkins kathleen edwards mia doi todd kimya dawson regina spektor carina round neko case fiona apple nina nastasia beth gibbons mirah rasputina dr. dre talib kweli immortal technique murs slug atmosphere trick daddy eazy-e tricky list goes on october 21 2003 elliott smith commits suicide stabbing 2 wounds into his chest Odysseus thinks about music when jimi hendrix stood up at woodstock deconstructing national anthem on guitar it took courage when punk emerged with ugly screechy sounds attempting to divorce itself from melodious harmonies of 1970s complacent crosby stills nash  the dead kennedys and *** pistol did not pander to conventional commercial success what they performed were desperate gutsy songs trying to reclaim music rock’n’roll is no longer about inventing instead it imitates its glorious past hip-hop and rap come nearest to risking rebellion but are caught in gangsterism infantile self-adulation no longer does music offer vision of what is or could be instead it conjures looping escapism from hopelessness of modern life he continues working at record shop for several years store contains every genre of music cinema he grows weary of retail sales weary of higher-ups constantly changing rules dictating what to do head manager is manipulative drama queen thrives on crisis once in private admits stealing from company Odysseus nods not knowing what to say head manager works Odysseus hard keeps him down atmosphere of conspiracy betrayal hang at start of each day assistant manager routinely taunts berates bullies teases regularly calls Odysseus “dumb-****” or “****-up” other times laughs after goading Odysseus to flinch eventually bully backs off and they become friends retail pushes Odysseus to brink of misanthropy corporation requires all employees to exercise overt courteousness while serving a public of disrespectful gang bangers demanding “show me black market brotha lynch mac dre why ya godda keep dat **** behind da counter? dat’s ****** up hey old man i ain’t got all day” it always amazes him when shoplifter is caught with product stuffed down his pants thief blatantly states “i didn’t do it i don’t know how that got there” thanksgiving through christmas to new years is most swarming stressful he feels like automaton greeting customer scanning product looking at screen to see if price agrees with product typing money amount counting money into drawer counting money out handing change to customer handing customer product receipt next customer cockroach capitalism packs of masses line up in endless stream of needs stupid remarks job also involves trade appraising condition value resale probability of cds dvds video games tapes vhs vinyl news of  iraq war gets dismal mounting civilian casualties suicide bombers hostages beheadings beginning of 2004 reports of torture ****** psychological abuse **** ****** ****** of prisoners at abu ghraib prison guantanamo bay white house cover-ups denials growing insurgency increasing u.s. body count other costs he thinks about men and women who are so much braver than him then comes re-election and lavish republican parties parades cheney rumsfeld tom delay and whole regime smirk portentously on tv none of it makes sense anymore “we the people of the united states” what does it mean? the dreams and aspirations of his generation have long since faded away he is citizen of forgotten past current world is barbaric place he barely recognizes there are real pirates with machetes rocket launchers on the seas big drug corporations hiding harmful findings kidnapped children abandoned children crooked politicians corruption at every level of society horrifying stories daily ******* priests slave markets extreme heinous cruelties abruptly everyone is acknowledging society is worsening life is not the same he does not understand people and certainly does not understand america or the world he remembers when all could be so good modern existence has turned everything into madness what happened to lessons of history? it is as if Odysseus fell asleep and when he woke everything is changed he is mistaken about what he thinks he knows feels pity for people america pity disgust sorrow he misses his dog

Transfixed, I watch the worlds
In your eyes transform
From blue to brown to green
From sea to ground to tree.

Framed in wisps of orange flame
Your face alights, your cheeks glow bright

I sing a song about your name:
“Aim far, aim high
Aim star, aim sky
Aim you, aim me
I’m you. You’re me.
Aimee…”

My darling daughter
You are my Sun
And around you, I’ll revolve
Eternally turning –
A maternal merry-go-round
On your playground
Of seas and trees and ground.

I crawled off the Muni
Gagging from too much liquor
Smeared ash from the ground on my face
Sitting next to the Quick Stop, with a quarter of a Miller
I waited for you, Aimee
Someone like you
Innocence that should surround you
You were painted with hues
The roaring of armed pedestrians
A home made of paper and broken glass
You sat next to me for someone to listen
And I was going nowhere fast
I listened and I heard your pain
Too young to know it's not normal
Sweet thing, don't give up
Resist the inevitable
These people will dye your skin new colors
And time will show no mercy
I've waited a lifetime for you to be here with me today
For someone to listen to this advice that I wished someone would have told me.

Arranged elegantly, decorated with babies breath
Is the face of a girl that joined the ranks of death
Every where, she wore a smile
To help a friend would walk a mile
She’d connect with how you feel,
Always down to keep it real
She’d give you her last meal
Before she let you starve

I knew her since I was about eleven,
Now she stands at the gates of Heaven
And I can only imagine the look on Gods face
When she stepped into His grace
Redefining “Angel face”
For those she left behind
In the wake of suicide
Always on our minds
Since came her time..

Born in October 1956, Janet Aimee Stephenson started out as a model and actress before moving into film-making. Do you have the 1980 Roxy Music album 𝑭𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 in your collection? The nearer of the two girls is Aimee Stephenson. In the 1980's Aimee and her boyfriend Tim Jackson (producer of "Dead Dog Blues") worked in the States on some Roger Corman productions although I don’t know which ones. In 1991 they teamed up with a guy called Sean Manchester who had written a non-fiction book about the so-called "Highgate Vampire." The plan was to make a documentary, and possibly a narrative feature film, about the subject but it never came to anything for various reasons.

In 2001 Aimee and Tim were in Peru, researching a book. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱. 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝟰𝟴% 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀, 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗼. 𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟭𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗔 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹. 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗦𝘄𝗶𝘁𝘇𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱) 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗯𝘂𝗿𝘆 – 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆. I can’t imagine the pain she must have gone through, or what Tim Jackson and her other friends and family must have suffered watching her agony.

- Posted by M.J. Simpson

I still wonder at the beauty of my sister
and the flocks she will draw at 16
piles of phone numbers at her feet,
Psyche incarnate, I the strange sibling
no servant of cinders, she is exalted.
Not that I am unloved, but it is strange to see
how much the contrast shows in family portraits.

Let's not talk of wishes, but instead, let me speak of action
about this delicious woman who makes my heart weak with passion
Alas, 2 perfect hearts nearly three thousand miles apart
Smart enough to ignore it and not give up before I start
every part of me aching to know you as intimately
and intricately as I can such a complex woman
Knowing somehow that we were meant for something greater down the road
Knowing that if I were to lose you, my own heart would implode.
Normally, I am not one to be this sappy, but you should know
All I really want is to make you happy, and see if we can grow.

Born in October 1956, Janet Aimee Stephenson started out as a model and actress before moving into film-making. Do you have the 1980 Roxy Music album 𝑭𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 in your collection? The nearer of the two girls is Aimee Stephenson. In the 1980's Aimee and her boyfriend Tim Jackson (producer of Dead Dog Blues) worked in the States on some Roger Corman productions although I don’t know which ones. In 1991 they teamed up with a guy called Sean Manchester who had written a non-fiction book about the so-called "Highgate Vampire." The plan was to make a documentary, and possibly a narrative feature film, about the subject but it never came to anything for various reasons.

In 2001 Aimee and Tim were in Peru, researching a book. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱. 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝟰𝟴% 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀, 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗼. 𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟭𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗔 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹. 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗦𝘄𝗶𝘁𝘇𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱) 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗯𝘂𝗿𝘆 – 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆. I can’t imagine the pain she must have gone through, or what Tim Jackson and her other friends and family must have suffered watching her agony.

- Posted by M.J. Simpson