Ül a fickó a New York-i kecójában, ami nem is a saját kecója, még csak nem is valami bérelt héder, hanem, ha jól emlékszem, a nagyanyjáé, de nem tudom biztosan, direkt nem veszem elő a könyvet, mert nem szövegről írok, hanem benyomásokról, emlékekről (ahogy én emlékszem a más emlékeire, hiszen így rakódunk össze, mint hatékony király egy halom csontból, ha van rá forrásdús teremtő akarat);

szóval, ül a fickó, huszonegynehány éves, túl van egy háborún, egy háború utáni világban él egy olyan országban, ami már eléggé régóta kihelyezett háborúkat vív, és azokat rendre megnyeri, pedig a háborúk sosem megnyerhetők, iszik, sőt elmélyült, bár cseppet sem precíz biofarmakológiai tanulmányokat végez, ahol a saját teste a lombik, a göreb, abban főzi, desztillálja, titrálja és szintetizálja saját tekergő agyát, torlódó gondolatait és instant megváltásait, az egész alatt pedig ott szörcsög a társadalom Bunsen-lámpája, kék láng, csillogó réz, sziszegés és spirituszszag;

ül a fickó, semmi különös amúgy, tépetten jóképű, az a félénken macsós típus, laza és kopott ruhákat visel, mosodába jár, büfékben reggelizik, még nem igazán tudja, mit kezdjen magával, és ez pont megfelel neki, sose tudta, talán sose akarja majd tudni, és az utcán tülkölve rohangászik New York, azon túl a téres Amerika, azon is túl egy egész világ, ami még nemigen tudja, mit kezdjen magával, annyi az elképzelés, rémesebbnél rémesebb programok, az egész mégis gyönyörű is tudna lenni, gyönyörű is tud lenni, minden csak nézőpont kérdése, hogy fegyverek, megatonnák, gettók, lágerek, éhínség, olajhimbák, rozsdásodó acél, tömegsírok, de elnyúló utak mentén a sárgult gazban tücskök pirregnek, csehországi kocsmák ácsolt asztalain szőke söröskorsók kemény habja csurran, a korsók oldalán kerekded homorúságok, akár egy katedrálisban, azokon bukdácsolva játszik a napfény, mint a Saint-Denis-i Suger apát rózsaablakú tripjei, egy habókos magyar író feltalálja az elsüllyeszthetetlen csónakot, nádból megépíti, a csónak elsüllyed, nem baj, mondja az író, a koncepció jó volt, a hiba a valóságban van, és új csónakba kezd (aztán majd büntetésből a józan, tisztességtudó, dolgos mókusok józan, dolgos megigazulásáról kell tanmesét írnia), teherautók platóján véletlen társaságok elegyednek egyszeri és folyton változó amalgámmá, sorsok és korok, a válságból megmaradt öregedő hobók, egzotikusak már, mint egy-egy kopott múzeumi tárgy az idők tárlójában, csak felirat nincs hozzájuk, ha lenne, maguk sem olvasnák el, köpnek a feliratokra, ahogy rájuk is köpött a mindenkori társadalom, idénymunkások, mindig az aktuális idénybe ragadva, gyümölcsszedés, aratás, gátépítés, a kontinensnyi Ígéretföldje ide-oda vetődő robotosai, ahogy az évszakok és a lidércesen optimista fejlődés ritmusai rázzák őket, mint egy bebopos szaxofonszólót, egy nyiszlett égimeszelő a ponyva alá húzódva az örök szerelemről és valami szélmalmokról motyog, és ott zötykölődnek persze az örök semmi jelentőségét kereső beatnikek is, mindig az aktuális örök igazságot hajszolva, az eltűnő kocsmákban, a porlepte kisvárosokban, az autóparkolókban, döngő acélhidakon, jazzkoncerteken, egymás testében, végtelen pofázásokban, mexikói drogtanyákon, sznob könyvesboltok izzadt hátsó helyiségeiben, bárhol és mindenhol, a nemzedék legjobbjai, úton az őrület romjai felé, mert a világ gyönyörű és rettenetes, fel kell habzsolni, de úgy, hogy mindig megmaradjon, nem megemésztve és salakot szarva, mint egy bank vagy egy bányavállalat, hanem úgy, mint a mesebeli terülj-terülj asztalka, az egyszervolt-holnemvolt, mindig megújuló energiaforrás;

szóval, ül ez a fickó a kecóban vagy a héderben (melegvíz is van, az ablak előtt a tűzlépcsőkön száradó ruhák), vécépapírt teker az ócska Remingtonba (mítosz, hát persze, hogy csak mítosz, de éppen ettől válik igazzá a valódiból, suttogja a bennem élő Coelho), előre dől, a homlokát ráncolja, úgy hunyorog, mintha a lemenő napba nézne valahol a kaliforniai sziklák között, a tengerparton, és két mutatóujjával sebesen gépelni kezdi, hogy valami nyavalyából lábolt ki éppen, meg az asszonnyal is szétmentek, mikor Dean Moriartyval (Neal Cassadyvel, persze) megismerkedett (mondom, inkább fejből idézem, mert így érzem autentikusnak), és nem tudom, hogy tudja-e (az biztos, hogy szeretné), hogy ezzel valami végtelenül újat kezd el (valami végtelenül régit lök tovább), úgy is nevezhetném, hogy az irodalom úti életét, az örök pikareszket, kezét a magasba emeli, arcán szent elragadtatás, belerikolt a nyüzsgő, rohanó éjszakába, és közben gondosan gépel (igen, egyszerre gépel és löki a kezét a magasba), mellette lassan hamuvá porlad a kávéspohárba lökött égő cigaretta, úton van, zakatol a szöveg, milyen istentelenül, elképesztően, kibaszottul szép szó az a szabadság, mondja magának, ahogy megropogtatja a hátát négyórányi írás után, megdörgöli a szemét, és azon gondolkodik, hogy el kellene ugrani valami csehóba, kilazítani, pörögni, dumálni, egy nő is kellene meg még bor, édes, olcsó bor, és persze cigaretta is, de aztán megrázza a fejét, begörbíti a mutatóujjait, mert most írnia kell, és ez rohadtul komoly dolog, röhejesen komoly, mint mikor a dombhát mögül felberreg egy közeledő kocsi motorja, te pedig feltápászkodsz az útszéli fűből, kilépsz az útpadkára, a karod előre nyújtod, és felemeled a hüvelykujjadat.

Ma 102 éve született Jack Kerouac.

happy bday legend @/jackhughes. may 14, 2023. (source: ian_glazer, IG)

Kokuto Neji's Story

Translation of Neji's concept art short story (original) for his birthday on March 22nd. Story by Shin Towada (JJ lead writer and Ishida's sister). Art by Lownine. Much like the others, there aren't really any spoilers as it's at the very beginning of the game before the first play.

The stage is a gigantic machine. Jacks and Jeannes are the gears and I'm the mechanic who assembles them all.

The darkened room is lit solely by a clattering computer with light strong enough to rival the midday sun. The bookshelves along the walls are crammed tight beyond usual capacity. The remaining books that couldn't fit have been turned into a fort on the floor. "Hmmm." Out of that pile, he easily picks out a book while holding a cup of coffee in his other hand. The one craning his neck towards the computer screen is the owner of this room. He's a third-year at Univeil Drama School. Working under somewhat special circumstances, he's the leader of Quartz: Kokuto Neji. His classmates include the Quartz Al Jeanne, Sarafumi Takashina, and Jack Ace, Kai Mutsumi. Taking liberal advantage of Univeil's culture of respect for personal autonomy, Neji doesn't just write and perform. He's able to act as both a Jack and a Jeanne, using his many talents to bring the performance together. Even now, he's in the middle of making preparations for the newcomers' performance. His eyes dart around as he scrolls through the screen. He's fidgety inside his head. For this reason, a knock at the door rings out unusually strongly.

"Yes, yes, come iiiin!" As Neji snaps back to reality, he opens the door with a feeling of anticipation. "Thanks." Behind the door stands a person with pale skin and soft hair. So soft it's as if the colour has faded and dissolved. This utterly adorable person raises his eyes towards Neji. "Why on earth would you call me over here then ignore me? I have things to do too you know." The edge of criticism in his voice gives a very different impression from his outside appearance. "Sorry about that, Shirota!" Mitsuki Shirota. He's a second-year, one year below Neji. As one would expect from his looks, he's been assigned to female roles as a Jeanne. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd actually show up." Shirota's eyes grow sharper as he speaks without hesitation. "Using a first-year as your carrier pigeon, what kind of excuse is that?" Neji had casually requested one of the brand new Quartz students to send Shirota to his office. "Well weren't you the one who told me to stop asking Kai to do things?" "Obviously. You shouldn't be using our Jack Ace for your trivial errands." "Right, so instead I asked this new person to be a pinch hitter." "I said to stop doing that too. Ugh, what do you want?" "How did that kid get you to come here? What kinda trap did he use?" "…You called me here for no reason didn't you. I'm leaving." "Hey, wait!" As Shirota turns to leave, Neji holds out both of his hands as if to say 'I'm sorry, I'm screwed up!' Shirota's expression darkens, recognizing that Neji hasn't reflected on his actions one bit. "So? What do you want?" Neji prefaces his words with, "I guess I messed up a bit," before finally cutting to the chase. "What is your impression of the first-years?" Shirota furrows his brow. "You asked Fumi and Kai this too, didn't you?" "You're right, I did!" He had asked both Fumi and Kai the same question. "If you have answers from both the Al Jeanne and Jack Ace, that should be enough. Why do you need to ask me too?" "What are you talking about?! You're our Tresor. You're our flower too!" Tresor is the name for Univeil Jeannes with strong singing abilities. The title suits Shirota perfectly. His outstanding vocal talents add vibrant colour to their performances. It's popular with audiences too. "I am glad you're with Quartz still though. I know you're pretty in-demand with Rhodonite." Shirota stays silent at the mention of that name. Univeil is divided into four separate classes with their own special traits. As the "transparent" Quartz class, they are primarily made up of inexperienced performers who have yet to find their true colours. This could put the class at a disadvantage, but really there are quite a few who enrol brimming with hidden talents. Quartz gives them the space to let those talents free. The content of their performances are tailored specifically for the current state of the class. The songs, dances, acting, all of it.

In contrast, classes like Onyx and Rhodonite have clearly defined colours. Powerful Jack dancers are the main selling point of Onyx, whereas Rhodonite pushes the dazzling singing talents of their Jeannes front and centre. Considering Shirota's abilities, it wouldn't be strange at all for him to have been sorted into Rhodonite. Actually, Rhodonite's class leader is pretty taken with him. But whatever class you look at, all of them are desperately aiming for that top spot -- now more than ever.

"So? What do you think of this year's new students?" Neji's tone of voice drops for the first time in this conversation,"You know it won't be good if things stay as they are, right? What with Amber and all…" That's the name of the fourth Univeil class. But it's hard to act as if the others are on equal ground with them. Shirota seems to grasp the weight of these words. He grips the sky blue tie around his neck as he appears deep in thought. He finally opens his mouth. "…There are three people I noticed," he says bluntly. Starting with Person 1. "Orimaki. I don't know how he got into Univeil with his singing skills so low, but his voice is strong and direct." Onto Person 2. "Yonaga. Him being as he is, he's a late bloomer who's constantly nervous about how he even got into Univeil. But he also thinks twice as much about the meaning of each song. That being said…"

Shirota's immediate answer suddenly hits a pause. "It's possible both of them just got my attention because they aren't very good." "In that case, they should consider themselves lucky you graced your eyes on them." Neji jokes then stares at him intently. "And the third person?" Mitsuki sighs at being asked for his final answer. "It's the one you made into your little carrier pigeon." A voice deep in Neji's heart whispers 'I knew it.' "So then, does our carrier pigeon also have a glimmer of sparkle out of a mountain of problems like Orimaki and Yonaga do?" "No, that guy is…" Shirota hesitates a moment as he chooses his words carefully. "I still don't know yet." "You don't know, which means…?" "Exactly what I said." He speaks as if to say he will give no further comment on the matter. "Is that enough for you now? I'm leaving." Having finished what he was asked, Shirota heads for the door. "Ah, one last thing! How did this pigeon get you to come over here?" Shirota is the type who prefers not to group up with others in class. He keeps a distance between himself and other people. He's not the type someone could easily convince by just asking outright. Even moreso if it comes from a student younger than him. "……" Shirota responds to Neji's hastily thrown words with silence. He opens the door to leave. That's as far as we're getting today, is it? "…It wasn't anything special." Neji's mood suddenly shifts at the sound of a reply he didn't expect to ever hear. "I was just taking a short break during practice and he came up to me and said 'Neji was asking for you'." A surprised 'ohh?' slips out of Neji's mouth. "So in other words, he chose when to make the request based on timing that would work for you?" There are times when Shirota is busy singing of course; however, there are also a lot of times when he appears to be doing nothing, but is actually busy arranging music in his mind. Figuring out the timing of when he's truly taking a break is no easy task. Even aside from the music, there are times when he doesn't want to be hassled with having to talk to someone. Using this understanding of his quirks, that carrier pigeon was able to start up a conversation. "Isn't that actually quite special after all?!" Neji says with a nod of admiration.

Upon hearing this, Shirota restrains himself from turning around and calling him a bald-faced liar. "This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?" His eyes sharply say, 'You haven't fooled me.' "Turning him into your carrier pigeon worked out just as you planned. Getting me to show up here and to name him as one of the students I noticed. You already knew all these things. It was just a ploy to confirm them." Shirota states his assertions strongly. Neji grins. He keeps up the act that there's no hidden motive behind his actions, but it smells like a lie. Shirota's face fills with disgust. He passes through the door, speaking as if he cannot bear to be around Neji any longer. "Please don't use me as a ruler for measuring other people." He shuts the door immediately to not let the conversation linger. "My my, Shirota is quite clever isn't he." Listening to the footsteps fade into the distance, Neji stifles his smile. "But regardless, the fact that pigeon was able to navigate this sense of distance with Shirota shows he might have quite a number of uses." This could be precisely reflected on-stage too. Neji's mind overflows with so many different ideas at an intensity that could give birth to a whole other world. "However, the 'I still don't know' part is there too. Fumi and Kai said the same thing." It seems difficult to learn the true nature of this bird. Even for Neji, there's many things about this younger student he's still unable to grasp. "The stage is a gigantic machine. Jacks and Jeannes are the gears…and I'm the mechanic who assembles them all. What shape will these talents take? Just watch and see." Neji takes a sip from the coffee he's been holding all this time. It went cold ages ago, but in this moment it's just what his body needs.

happy (belated) 6th birthday to Jack Kline !

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIOSHOCK!!!!!

Have a boyo contemplating :)

Idk much about timezones, but it's already march 26th for me, which means. . . it's Bob Headrush day!! Yay :D

Aaand also bonus drawings from week or so ago. . . 🐐

Hppy birpday jaso

Has anyone done this yet

Hbd + sbd: this is about the kids.

"Jack, it's the weekend," she says as soon as she picks up the phone, bracing herself. He always does this, always tries to drag her onto a case on her days off, and sometimes she half has the idea that he misses her, but maybe that's just wishful thinking. In any case, today, she needs rest; she will not be swayed into-

"This is about the kids."

She sits upright, suddenly on alert. It's not one thing, but many: The controlled tension in his voice, the way it suddenly dawns on her that Penny hasn't answered her earlier text, and above all, the way Jack is willing to call them the kids, after so many protests over the past few months. ("They're not kids, El; they're our employees.")

"What is it?"

"Something's wrong. I went by Weatherby's house to drop off some case files-" She makes a mental note to scold him for that later. "And the door was wide open. Went in, and the place was trashed. Tucker's not home, either. Someone took 'em."

Fear coils in her chest, and she closes her eyes. They'll be alright, she tells herself, because she has to. She has to believe that. "We'll find them," she says firmly. "I'll be at the office in fifteen minutes."

She makes it there in ten.

Soshiro Yonaga's Story

For his birthday on May 15th, I translated Sou's pre-release short story (original) written by Shin Towada (lead scenario writer) with concept art by the artist Lownine. No real spoilers as it takes place before the newcomers' performance as usual. I opted to keep some honorifics in this one between Sou and Kisa just because I couldn't find a good solution around that in the time I had for this. Hopefully it doesn't read too out of place.

That day we shared a dream together, and even now I'm still in it. --Where is this? His field of vision opens abruptly. Warm rays of sunlight fall gently at his feet. Unable to grasp the situation, he looks around at his surroundings. A single torii gate beckons him. Beyond the gate lies a sleepy shrine nodding off to sleep. Memories come to Soshiro Yonaga's mind at the sight of it. "Sou-chan!" As soon as he connects this place to his memories, he hears the voice of a child ring out. Yonaga's body jumps inside as it takes in the sound of that affectionate nickname again. Reliving it in his mind, he sees three kids racing towards him. The one running in the lead is a wide-eyed adorable girl. And right behind her is a boy a couple years older. A boy with a refined beauty who quite resembles the girl. Trailing behind them is the sort of typical boy you'd find anywhere, running with all his might. --That's me. Yonaga instinctively takes in a breath. And with that breath comes a deep understanding. This is a dream. He's watching a dream of the distant past. "Sou-chan! C'mon hurry up, let's play pretend!" The girl takes the young Yonaga's hand. --…chan Yonaga calls out the girl's name, but the voice does not come out. The kids pass him by, dashing through the gate towards the shrine. --Hey, wait…! Trying to chase after them, Yonaga also passes through the torii gate. The moment he does, the figures of the three kids go dim, as if being mocked by his own mind. Not just the kids, but the gate, the shrine, even Yonaga himself starts to disappear. "Okay, you play the lead today Sou-chan!" The only thing left is the children's playful voices. --Wait. "Please, wait!!" Yonaga shouts. He realizes he's in bed with his hand stretched up into the air like in the beginning of a story. "Ah…" Light shines through a crack in the curtain. Vrr, vrr--his morning phone alarm urges him out of bed. It's morning. "Ugh…" He rubs his eyes to avoid facing it, feeling a bit embarrassed about his hand stretched towards the empty air. He's at Univeil Drama School as one of the new first-years of the Quartz class. "I've gotta get out of bed." Another day begins.

He sluggishly finishes getting ready, shoves down some breakfast from the dorm cafeteria, and then heads off to school a little late. "Um…." At Univeil, the mornings consist of rigorous study of a wide variety of topics pertaining to theatre under the expert faculty. Students are permitted to choose their own courses, meaning that those in the same class wouldn't all study the same subjects. Knowing this, Yonaga scans the classroom thoroughly. (Ah…) There's a student of short stature with a delicate frame who demonstrates a strength of will like no one else. It's the same person from the dream, the childhood friend he used to play pretend with. And now they're assigned to the same class in the same grade. "Morn-" "Class is starting now" Unfortunately the teacher appears before he can hardly open his mouth. Despite his interest being on his friend, the class mercilessly continues. He rushes in to take his seat, stealing one last glimpse before focusing on the lesson. After the morning lessons crammed full of new things to learn, time moves into the afternoon. Quartz class rehearsals start from this point onwards. Students from all years gather in the rehearsal room. They're practicing for the newcomers' performance planned for the end of May. "Okay, okaaay, now let's run through everything again so far!" (Neji) As a place that recognizes independence, Univeil Drama School has come to revolve around its performances and students. Kokuto Neji is the class leader directing Quartz. He's a genius, handling everything from the scripts to the stage. "All you older students, watch the first-years carefully to help them out." Neji energetically gives out directions. "Okay then, all the Jeannes come over here," says Quartz's Al Jeanne, Sarafumi Takashina, as he steps forward. He always acts friendly towards everyone, but the overwhelmingly brilliant flowering aura he radiates makes Yonaga nervous just standing next to him. And Fumi isn't the only one like this. There's also Kai Mutsumi, the Jack Ace with a diligent expression who leads the Jacks, and Mitsuki Shirota, the tresor who gives out his opinions on songs without an ounce of intimidation from Neji. And then there's Neji who brings everyone together to propel them further and further forward. Just these people alone make quite the impression. Yonaga's anxiety reaches a point where he questions if it's even okay for someone like him to be standing here right now. And he seems far from the only new student feeling the pressure.

"…Okay everyooone, let's take a break!" The second after hearing Neji's order, the first-years collapse to sit down with worn-out expressions. Yonaga also takes in a big breath as if trying to quench a dry throat. But there's a few in the group acting differently. "Hey, Orimaki's dancing with someone." Suzu Orimaki. Yonaga instinctively searches the room for a certain person. The noisy pounding in his chest gives him a feeling of who it might be. (Ah…) The one facing Suzu as a dance partner is Yonaga's same childhood friend. Suzu likely asked her so they could try out what they had practiced in rehearsal. She-- That's right, she's a girl. His female childhood friend is here at Univeil, the school where boys play all the male and female roles. She enrolled at the all-boys school while hiding her gender. "All right, let's do it!" "Yeah!" She and Suzu exchange words then she takes his hand to begin the dance. The two of them have no stage experience so there's a lot of rough patches. Yet even so, there's something about them that captures people's attention. "Hmm, these two stand out." As their class lead, Neji watches the pair with great interest whilst muttering to himself. Fumi standing next to him agrees and says, "They sure do. I haven't had a chance to see Orimaki dance yet, but he really stands out in whatever he does. Doesn't he, Kai?" "…It's because the other one is so good at supporting him." Kai's eyes focus on the girl dancing with Suzu.

"That's typically a Jack's role," Shirota grumbles with an exasperated expression. Still, the third-years seem to have come to a consensus. "Well…the two of them do have good chemistry though." These words stab Yonaga deep in the chest. They're sharp at first before turning into a dull lasting ache. (I need some water.) Giving himself an excuse to leave the practice room, he starts chugging water like it's his job. But no matter how much he drinks, it's never enough to quench the thirst.

Practice continues as the sun quietly sets and the lights on the school grounds are lit. Neji finally declares that practice is over. The trio of Yonaga, Suzu, and the childhood friend all leave the practice room together. "Whew, I'm beat!" Despite his words, Suzu still seems full of energy. A single nod takes everything for Yonaga to muster, both his legs and his eyelids feeling heavy. "But the upperclassmen are amazing, aren't they?" Suzu says while thinking back on their practice. "The perfect way they sing, dance, and act…and them guiding us. When I see that sorta thing I think…." Suzu's face becomes suddenly determined. "I think there's no way we can lose!" Suzu's burning excitement chills Yonaga's body to the point of shivering. This guy just started here on the same day, at the same time, and should have the same amount of experience yet he seems to live in an entirely different world. Yonaga reflexively steals another glance at his childhood friend. She has a gentle expression as she listens intently to Suzu. He doesn't know what she's thinking but she's definitely in this other world too. He thinks back on the dream he had today. That distant memory where he once stood by her side in the story's lead role. The girl walking by his side now is still living within that dream. "…Sou-chan, what's wrong?" She asks after seeing Yonaga's expression fade and go silent. "Oh, you all right? Practice sure was tough today huh?" Suzu turns his head and looks at Yonaga with concern. "Oh uh, I-I'm okay! I'm just hungry, that's all." "Yeah I feel ya." Their conversation continues meandering along. It's more comfortable like this. As he listens to Suzu talk, Yonaga looks at his friend in a way that's become a habit. "….!" And as he does, their eyes meet. Perhaps she's still feeling concern for Yonaga. He manufactures a smile to try to hide it. Then questions if he's doing it right.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JACK QUAID 🎉🎂🍀

MY KING AND MY QUEEN FOREVER