tagged by @thenightdayblogger to look for blue, star, sour, and flower in my WIPs! Bafflingly difficult time finding these, somehow. Weird. 

If you’re up for it, I’m going to tag uuuh @rosaindomitus and @dogueteeth. I’d tag more but idk who’s up for putting WIP fragments out there. no pressure at all!! but if you’re up for it, i’m going to ask for the wordsss orange, shout, hand, and run!

Gonna throw it under a read more so as not to dump a Pile of words everywhere.

blue

Arsinoe has a plan, a plan they’ve spent weeks plotting out, including several conspicuous “just in case” portions that are clearly for if he goes off-script. Pages and pages of carefully labeled flowcharts in one of their notebooks, the one with… metallic purple patterns on the cover, he thinks, maybe blue? The words on the page slip from his grasp like they did, and they’re gone, through the window again, glass shattering outwards like a dissonant note, because they can’t be gone, they shouldn’t be gone, they’ve always come back before— 

Fragment from a very disjointed piece, currently nameless, that’s an attempt at a Ricardo POV nightmare that’s mostly about Arsinoe leaving and a little bit about their apartment over the years in the Sidestep years.

It’s easy, to walk across the kitchen and lean against him, to tuck your face into the back of his neck, curl your arms around his waist. Like giving into gravity. “I’m trying to cook,” Daniel says, laugh in his voice. “The pancakes are going to burn.”

“I’m not stopping you,” you say, magnanimously, sticking your hands under the hem of his— your hoodie so they’re flat against his stomach. Worn blue fabric and lightning bolts on the shoulders. Skin-to-skin contact. “You know how to move me.”

Double-dipping on the word blue for a little bit of Tonal Whiplash (and also i couldn’t find one of the other words) but here’s a fragment of Far Future Don’t Even Worry About It domesticity with Arsinoe and Daniel and also the Chagre hoodie (I’ve shared another fragment of this one around before, but only via discord- it’s the Extremely Soft Far Future chargeflystep piece that also includes part of my Ortega Eyemask Agenda)

star

“You don’t want to know?” Tay genuinely can’t imagine not wanting to know why he is how he is. The changeling just shrugs at him, as much as a stag can shrug. “I want to know everything.”

“Not all questions have kind answers, sprout,” Hart says, and then he falls quiet for a bit.

The stars are hard to spot in the forest, in between the leaves dark against the sky, but Tay looks for them anyway, even if it’s just to keep from feeling the silence too awkwardly.

Original work jumpscare! “star” didn’t exist in any of my Fallen Hero fragments - somehow - so here’s a piece of a project that’s been back-burnered for a while. I’m bad at elevator pitches, but it’s very folklore-vibes, the Tay in question here has to spend several days in the domain of a forest goddess and, in this fragment, he’s trying to figure out why she wants him there.

sour

Somehow fully doesn’t exist. No idea how I managed that. Weird thing to now know about my writing: it apparently currently just fully does not contain the word “sour.”

flower

“I dunno! Even if I don’t know most of them, it’s kind of nice to be around people living their lives, right? Makes me feel more connected to a place when I can learn stuff like how the baker’s daughter always goes on a walk one morning of the week, or the cobbler’s wife likes to put flowers in her daughters’ hair when they get their chores done early. Even if I’m not involved in their lives, it’s nice to know that other people exist, you know?” Tay shrugs, holding his hands out like take of that what you will.

Once again. no flowers in my FH WIPs, so here’s some more Tay. This is earlier than the previous segment. He’s lightly judging another character’s decision to live in a falling-down building in the middle of nowhere, here.

spoilers for osmosis jones

my partner and i watched osmosis jones and here is my summary

-bill murray is a good comedian, and funny. he is not funny in this movie

-in the first 5 minutes bill murray begins eating an egg with mayonnaise on it which is the first sign hes eats “unhealthy food” but like. my guy its an egg with more egg on it. eggs are healthy...

-the cars having cilia instead of wheels is creative and fun but i honestly am not sure the average child under 7 appreciates cilia the way i do

-i just feel like if you’re going to make a movie about the body either make a lot of medical references and aim for an older audience who you can teach or just make fart jokes but its like they cant decide

-the movie aims to gross you out all the time

-i feel bad for frank but also hes a terrible father just terrible

-theres like sort of creativity with the designs but imo almost too much homogeneity. The average citizen of Frank seems to be a white blood cell, depicted as a blueish humanoid, or a red blood cell, depicted as a reddish skinned humanoid, but it’s unclear what the mayor and leah are supposed to be since the white blood cells are cops and the red blood cells are just shown like picking up trash or whatever (which is also like, idk why they didn’t involve red blood cells doing smth cool like deliver oxygen and involve the plot). All the pathogens (”germs” but ok) are green blobs except for the main one, Thrax, who has a sharp-edged red-and-black design. Besides being a bit on the nose, it feels like the background character designs could have been a little more interesting, especially given one is labeled a “flu vaccine” who is a cop informant (as a metaphor for vaccines its pretty nice). Since flu is a virus, the informant should look like a virus and thus more like thrax than the other characters who are implied to be bacteria or whatever. it could have lead to some interesting mystery about whether hes a virus or other pathogen.

-the main girl cell character is *purple* for absolutely no reason, it just really irritated me

-the tonal dissonance btwn the animated and live action scenes is startling

-whatever they were trying to do with Drix The Cold Pill wasn’t... enough. i feel like hes supposed to have a buzz lightyear out of his element vibe but it doesn’t work well

-more inconsistent sizing in this movie than in the su episodes people like to bitch about on here

-I googled eyelash sizes bc of this movie and found out an eyelash diameter is like 10 to 100 times the size of a white blood cell so its probably not *that* bad in that scene but i also found out about eyelash mites and now im like well that should have been in the movie. also im upset about it

-also bill murray is just disgusting. this movie is so gross and unfunny it hurts

-its also one of the most insulting / anti-fat movies ever and i’ve seen the farrelly brothers later horrible movie shallow hal. like the movie is so fckin mean to bill murray for eating shitty food or whatever that his daughter implies his mom died because of their diet. it is SUCH a shitty message to tell to anyone! jesus christ!

-such weird classist implications too, like the offhand bit that he got fired from his job at a factory to go work at a zoo with “a ninety percent cut in pay” which like first of all. you need expertise to work at a zoo like i dont want to undermine factory labor but the skills for working in a pea soup factory are going to be very different from a zookeeper. but then also he has a nice 2000s middle class all american home he is somehow still affording.

-but then theres the fact he eats all junk food which is constantly depicted as disgusting and vile and is clearly meant to be mocked by the audience (and his daughter as a stand in for the audience is very upset by it). like first of all... fuck off with rudeness to anyone for how they eat but second of all poor people often 1. cant afford better food and 2. eat junk food bc its the closest thing to a luxury they can’t afford. i guess by giving them the big house its showing that bill murrays character has the choice to afford better food? but then why throw in the bit about his character losing his job and taking a pay cut?

-its such a weird plot contrivance that the end of the movie relies on his daughter wearing fake eyelashes. Like, real eyelashes fall out sometimes they could have just done that. or something else entirely

-the ending cumulates in frank, bill murrays character, flatlining and an incredibly tv-star-telenovela-bait man in a doctors code announcing hes died and then his daughters tears bring him back to life

-actual diseases are so much more interesting than this movie.

-also this movie is not funny please dont watch it

MSA time travel idea (part 42)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 Vivi POV 6 Vivi POV 7

Part 43: here

...

(ARTHUR POV)

“Maybe, if you’d been even half of what he was, you wouldn’t have been possessed so damn easily. I mean, this kid put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty much a walking collection of neurosis,” the demon taunts.

“I said shut up!”

The demon, and by default, Arthur, narrows their eyes. Micky’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench into its plans, drawing its full and undivided attention. Irritation curls around Arthur, replacing the previous sensations of smug satisfaction and amusement. The emotion is unpleasant, making Arthur’s mind crawl but it’s better than the sadistic joy he had been forced to endure as it was stabbing Lewis. For the first time since that disastrous meeting in the hospital’s car-park, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance. The demon’s attention is focused solely on Micky and the gun. The shift is so sudden and is Arthur so panicked, that he almost doesn’t recognise the opportunity. 

Luckily-the only luck he’s had in a long while-he does recognise his opening. His one chance to make things right. 

A desperate calm settles over him. Lightning flashes, illuminating the faint blue and purple of Vivi and Lewis’s clothes. Mystery glows ever brighter, casting a red tint on the concrete around him. Everything else is darker shades of grey, fading into black.

In his new state of calm, Arthur can envision how the next few seconds would play out. Micky would shoot. The demon would dodge.  Even now, he can feel how his body is tensing, preparing to duck to the side. The demon is hyper-focus on the gun, watching Micky’s every muscle twitch. To dodge, the demon would have to already be moving even before the gun went off. It would need precise control and a split-second warning just before the shot. After the gun fired, Vivi would run forward to ‘save’ him, putting herself in danger. Then, Mystery would be forced to transform and save her. In the commotion, the demon would make their escape. 

“Did you even go back to bury him, or did you just leave him there? What happened to all the ritual, funeral nonsense to send his soul on its merry way? How disrespectful.” The demon’s voice is full of malice, coloured with amusement, aiming to both harm and insult. 

The gun clicks in Micky’s hand. Already, Arthur can feel himself tensing, preparing to move fast.

“Stop!” Vivi lurches upright and Mystery blocks her from jumping between them. “If you shoot, you’ll kill Arthur!”

 This is okay. Arthur has already accepted that he might never see his friends again. The demon would run, take him away, and they would be safe. Mystery would pass along his apology and it would be fine. The only one to really suffer would be him and he thinks he can live with that. Is that true though? 

“That fucking brat sent us to our deaths. He’s just as guilty.”

It wasn’t just him that would suffer was it? This thing would keep on killing. It would use his body to kill other people and maybe, one day, it would go after Lewis or Vivi again. The creature wanted Arthur specifically and he is aware enough to know that the demon has got some sort of plan involving his messed-up soul. 

The body snatcher sniggers, “I’m sure Dan would be very unimpressed with how you're threatening this poor innocent human. I mean, if he weren’t a shish-kebab at the bottom of a cave.” 

Micky yells, loud, animalistic, full of pain and rage. Arthur feels a pang of empathy for the man who had had the misfortune of running into him and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Darrel.

In that fraction of a second before the gun goes off, his body, under the direction of the demon, lunches to the right.  Everything slows, time crawling by. Arthur can already see Mystery leaping, his dog form rapidly expanding. Vivi is also running towards him, face white with fear. 

His way out was suddenly blindingly clear.

With all his remaining will power, throws himself to the left. He slams into the mental barrier separating him from his body. Similar to when he’d first tried this in the van, the demon falters ever so briefly, its attention refocusing onto him and away from Micky. For a fraction of a second, in between heartbeats, the demon’s movements slow. Unlike when he had tried this before, there is no time for the demon to react.

 “ARTHUR!”

 The shout rings in his ears alongside the loud CRACK of a shotgun discharging. 

A sudden weight smacks him in the chest and he stumbles back. This time, Arthur’s sense of fear is mixed in with his own cold vindication. In a moment of role reversal, it is Arthur feeling spiteful and the demon experiencing surprise. 

“You little shit,” He feels himself spit the words out, angry, even as new wetness clogs his throat and the metallic taste of blood floods his mouth. Time accelerates again. Arthur hits the pavement and doesn’t even care that his head cracks on the hard surface. All bodily sensation is fuzzy now. Any pain one would expect to feel after getting shot is dulled. Surprise quickly turns to anger. The demon is almost brittle with furry, its full attention bearing down on him from all angles, pressing in. Suffocating. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit…Bleeding…that’s a lot of blood. Need to control the bleeding.” Arthur focuses on Vivi’s face which materialises above him. For the first time since his possession, Arthur managers to move of his own violation, taking a hash breath. The process is an immense struggle and he’s not sure if it’s because of the demon or blood loss. 

“Vi…” His tong feels heavy and foreign, the words he tries to say are garbled by the blood coming up through his throat. He doesn’t get more than a syllable out before the control is wrestled away. 

‘You think this is over?’ The voice echoes in his head, low and threatening.

“Shh. Don’t speak. Everything will be okay. I don’t think its hit anything important. Just lie still.” Her expression is a mix of horror and worry. Regret quickly roles over his vindication because the last thing he wants is for Vivi to have to watch her friend bleed out and die.

His vision blurs. A purple outline appears alongside Vivi. It’s Lewis, equally, if not more panic-stricken. He can feel to demon’s attention re-centre, staring Lewis right in the eye. 

 “What’s…up. You…goin…watch him die …with me?” The demon jerks, trying to grab a hold of Lewis’s bear unprotected hands.  

‘You can’t have Lewis.’ 

Arthur slams his full mental weight into malicious presence, pushing it to one side, cutting it off mid-sentence. As his body weakens so does its control. They’re both weak now. 

‘Sharing is caring.’ Is sneered. A wave of malicious intent  chips away at his control, paralysing rational thought with uncontained fear.  Arthur feels his hand lift under the demon’s renewed power, reaching weakly for Lewis, beckoning. 

“Lew…is.” Arthur tries to speak and warn his friend off.  

 ‘Don’t do it.’ He can’t get the words out, his control failing. It is like being back in the cave, unable to stop the unimaginably terrible from happening. His vision distorts, made worse by the night around them. He can barely see the conflict waring across his friend’s face.   His arm is numb. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…green is pooling at the edges of his vision. It doesn’t matter that they are both weak, the demon’s got him beat in the willpower department. Too many past mistakes occupy his thoughts, distracting him. 

Lewis’s hand hovers then closes around his, drawing his focus. The hand is warm almost comforting.

NO.

He claws at the demon, ripping and tearing at anything he can reach, trying to drag it down with him. A patronising laugh bounces around and there is the sensation of something rushing to escape. Arthur scratches and grasps but it is hard to hold onto something that hardly exists. The result is an exercise in futility like he’s trying to dig his nails into loose shale. 

‘Nice try but you’re a few centuries too inexperienced to hold me down.’ The demon slips away, leaving him to sink downwards, alone. ‘Try not to die while I’m out would you. I would hate for all this drama to be for nothing,’ Arthur can still feel the echo of rage and malevolence underlining its final amused jab as it fades from his consciousness. The demon is angry. He knows it is going to do its level best to hurt Lewis. There is nothing he can do to stop it. And, suddenly, Arthur is alone in his own mind.

“Why?” He coughs, wishing he could shake an answer out of Lewis. ‘Why did you do that Lewis?’ The last he sees of Lewis is a green discolouration creeping up the other’s arm. Lewis stumbles away, swallowed by the night. 

Vivi’s shocked face fades to nothing a second later. Then there is only darkness. No demon, just himself and all his mistakes.  No snarky running commentary on how screwed up and pathetic he was. No weird dissonance as he experienced two sets of emotional responses. He is just Arthur existing alone. He should feel relieved. This should be a triumph. 

It's not...

.

It’s dark and he’s falling, slamming into a stone spike. Two sets of memories blur together, becoming one extended nightmare. Two failed timelines are laid before him in a spread of damning evidence against his very existence.

Lewis is dead…then alive, grinning, eyes flashing bright green as he looks down on him, “Once in a millennia chance and you managed to screw it up.” There is fire rising around him, growing increasingly not, framing Lewis’s human visage. “This is your fault.”

 He coughs, gripping the spike piercing up through his chest. 

“How many can say they’ve had a second chance? None. That’s how many?” Lewis growls and the flames become unbearably hot till even the air itself hurts. “Face it. I just wasn’t that important to you.” Arthur should just stop trying to fight and let the fire burn away all that was left of him. 

It’s what he deserves. 

“So that’s it.”  The female voice cuts through the crackle of the fire, “You’re just going to give up?" 

The stone around him shifts, colours mutating from purple and green to a gleaming, blue-tinted ice. Gone is the stone spike, the cliff, and the cave, to be replaced by an empty snow-filled field. He is no longer in pain. He is kneeling, half-buried in snow, surrounded be an empty silver-grey landscape. 

“What about your promise to answer my questions. You’re going to leave everyone behind wondering what the heck happened?” Lewis and his fire disappear, replaced with cold air and a familiar voice. He squints up at the blurry Vivi-shaped outline but can’t make out her face. The word around him is too blindingly bright to make out any details.

“I can’t…” he pleads, “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“So what. That’s never stopped you before.”

He drops his gaze, ignoring the the rustle of fabric as a person knelt in front of him.

“We all make mistakes.”  Her voice is soft.

“I don’t know what to do?”  

If there’s one thing the demon has taught him it was that things could always get worse.

“It’ll be okay Arthur. Just explain what happened. I’ll understand.”

He looks up, desperately searching for the face of a familiar older Vivi. 

“I miss you.”  He doesn’t care that he is angsting over what was probably a figment of his imagination. The shadow of a Vivi he’d left behind in a future that would never happen. 

“Silly, I never left.”

The white space above him splinters, shattering like glass, falling on him like flakes of snow.

.

.

.

His next breath is heavy like he is struggling against some immense weight.  It is nothing like being on the cliff, struggling to breathe against the heat and having it cut with frigid cold, this is real. The sensation of forcing his lungs to expand and take in the dry air is almost too real. A dull ache settles over him and he can’t tell if it is coming from his body or somewhere deep in his chest. Everything feels floaty and unreal and he struggles to pull together a coherent thought. Arthur wills his eyes to open, almost afraid to try and have this illusion of control snatched away. 

Light eclipses the dark. The imprint of spikes, fire and ice, fade into a nightmare. He stares up at a familiar off-white ceiling. A pattern of square panels, broken by two overhead lights, one of which is switched off, meaning the room in only half lit. The faint smell of anaesthetic and bleach lingers in the air. Absently, he recognises the hospital ceiling. The dejavu is painful.  

Slowly, almost too afraid to try, he turns his head, scanning for his arm. There is a needle disappearing into his skin just above his wrist which is connected to a machine beeping a faint rhythmic pattern. It is his flesh and blood arm. This is his original arm, meaning this is the other timeline. The one he had just royally screwed up. His fingers twitch when he wills them to move, jerking inwards to grasp at nothing. This is the timeline where his Uncle is dead, and Lewis is probably off somewhere killing people under the demon’s control. An unbearable sadness descends upon him. He takes solace in the melancholy, welcoming it, wrapping it around himself like a familiar blanket. Maybe, if he waited long enough, the demon would return, and he would be able to save Lewis. Arthur doubts it, he has nothing of value to trade aside from himself and Lewis is ten times more valuable than him. It was pointless. Maybe he hadn’t learnt his lesson about wanting things. Maybe he will just lie here forever, wasting away.

 Maybe that didn’t sound so bad.

“Arthur.” The surprised voice cuts into him, slicing apart his thoughts.

He blinks, twitching to glance to the side, focus shifting  past the empty hospital chair placed next to his bed and towards the doorway. Vivi. She is standing in the entrance. Her clothes are wrinkled, speckled with dirt, and she has smudges across her face that look a bit like wood ash. Her eyes are wild with open surprise. 

Her surprise becomes relief, mixed with conflicting joy and apprehension. 

“You’re awake.” She speaks slowly, voice halting. 

“V…” His throat is far too dry to speak so the word comes out as a wheeze. 

Whatever misgivings had Vivi frozen in the doorway, they don’t hold her for long and she is across the room in a flash of blue. The next thing he knows her weight is resting across his shoulder and chest, gripping onto him. There is a brief flash of purely physical pain as she bumps the wad of bandages he only just notices are covering the upper half of his torso, wrapping his collar bone. Her face is awkwardly pressed against his opposite shoulder.

When his vision blurs, he panics, momentarily thinking he was losing his control. However, he quickly recognises it as a different sort of loss of control. A normal loss of control. There is water pooling in his eyes, running down his face. He’s crying, making breathing hard. 

“You idiot.” Vivi’s voice is unsteady now, full of hurt, “You colossal idiot.”

“I'm…sor…” He swallows, coughing out the apology “…ry”  He doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologising for but he’s made so many mistakes that it’s the only thing he can think to say. 

“I thought you were going to die.”

Sluggishly, Arthur tries to raise a hand, the one without a needle sticking into it, to hold onto the fabric of her jacket. His muscles feel a bit like jelly, spasming occasionally, as his mind re-associates mental commands with movement. He realises with a pang of grief that she is wearing Lewis’s jacket. What happened to Lewis?  He tries to speak, to explain, to ask questions, but his throat is still too dry. After attempting this a few more times he gives up and allows himself the small comfort of being able to hug Vivi again. 

..

NOTE: Happy Holidays!! Have an update as a gift :) Hope everyone is safe and wish you all good luck transitioning into the new year. Thank you for another years worth of support of this fic, it means a lot. 

Part 43: here

Mors Non Est (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

MORS NON EST (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

(so. um. this was inspired by a dream i had? because my brain does weird things at night and then sometimes i write them.)

Word Count: almost 4k oops

Summary: “Of course, you don’t die. Nobody dies. Death doesn’t exist. You only reach a new level of vision, a new realm of consciousness, a new unknown world.” — Henry Miller, author

Or, what my brain offers as alternate theory on why Nathan made AIs.

Warnings: Leaving this mortal coil (sort of), angsty musings, maybe a swear or two. Okay there’s definitely a swear or...several. (also a disclaimer that I finished this at like 3am and there was a bunch of stuff out of order but I think I got it all worked out now and proofread and all that, but apologies if anything is still wonky)

The rain fell steadily against the wall of glass that faced towards the forest. Sometimes it was soft, like the tickle of a feather, the softest caress of a kiss on your hair, the skim of fingertips against the velvet red petals of a flower. Other times it was harsh, a violently crashing wave on the rocky shore, electricity ripping the sky asunder, an unbridled fierceness like a wild animal frightened and possessed.

It changed without warning.

Soft, hard. Quiet, loud. Calm, violent. Back and forth and back again.

How long had it been raining?

He turned as he heard your footsteps fall on the wooden patio planks behind him. You watched in slight fascination as he unwrapped his hands, used the cloth to dry them, and stuck a hand out to you, your attention half on him and half on the pure beauty of the surrounding scenery.

“You must be the new assistant,” he said, sounding friendly enough although his smile stayed a bit reserved.

He wasn’t expecting you to just show up on his deck. Yes, he was expecting you to be dropped off by the helicopter, that had all been arranged, but for some reason he had...he realized he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting. But you had clearly followed the pilot’s (and soon after, the house’s - that the house told you what to do amused him in the strangest way) instructions and here you were.

He knew his new assistant was more than capable (he had seen your resume, reviewed your coding and debugging history, had meticulously poured over every single little detail of work you had done for his company for the past three years not that he was obsessive about it or anything) but he wasn’t prepared for the person that now stood before him, an intriguing combination of impressed, unsure, interested, and underwhelmed.

You were fucking beautiful.

You nodded. “That’s what they tell me,” you replied, shaking his hand and supplying your name, even though you knew he already knew it. You knew enough about Nathan Bateman to know he knew everything about you before you even heard the head of HR back in the corporate office announce that you got the job.

You later admitted you didn’t know what to think about him either, and you hadn’t really expected anything, since you didn’t know much about him. He was a genius, everyone knew that, and he lived all the way out here by himself. And...that was about it. That’s what you knew.

And you thought he was...kinda hot.

And also an asshole, you liked to point out as the days went on. Nathan didn’t really mind.

*

It was an odd feeling, this feeling of dissonance and uncertainty.

There was so much that needed to be done. There was so much that he didn’t feel like doing.

He came to the door and paused. He spent most of his waking hours in this room - and to be honest, most of his hours were waking at this point, he rarely slept anyway and for as long as he could remember now he had barely slept, except when all that whiskey and vodka kicked in - and yet there was always a moment, the briefest flash of time, where forward momentum paused and he wondered if non-linear time was reality and he would find something different when he opened the door.

It wasn’t, and he never did.

He wandered into the lab and over to the table at the farthest end. Components were spread out before him and he idly reached over to the single chip laying in the center of the mess. It was the last piece of this particular puzzle, the last bit that had to be installed and configured and then…

Then suddenly it became too quiet and too loud all at once. Thoughts were screaming through his brain and he just wanted it to be quiet for a moment.

Quiet so he could go over his calculations in his head. Quiet so he could double check his math. Quiet so he could concentrate on his theories and his expected outcomes. Quiet so he could revel, just for a moment, in his monumental achievement.

There was a sweater hanging on the back of the door. He’d forgotten it was there, even though he had just seen it mere hours before. No, not forgotten, he realized. Blocked. He didn’t forget, he just purposely didn’t remember.

The silent noise became a full-blown cacophony.

Was it still raining?

*

“So how exactly are you going to solve it?” you asked one afternoon, idly twirling your pen in your hand.

“How would you do it?” he bounced back.

You sighed. His behavior was so typical. The man was a certifiable genius but that was usually the problem and not the solution. It was never straightforward. “The AI. How are you going to solve the issue of making it able to have an actual conversation with you?”

“How would you do it?” he asked again.

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept twirling the pen. “I dunno. I guess you’d have to have some way to...maybe cross-reference a database of expressions and emotions and an actual dictionary.”

Nathan paused and considered you, deep in his own forest of thought. He wheeled his chair over to his computer desk and started rapidly tapping keys. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “Like...like some kind of mass well of every available, possible interaction. Honestly I would try to figure out the mechanics of everything else first, like motion and movement, You know, walking and running and sitting and standing.”

“Hmmm.”

“But since there are literally infinite combinations, I don’t even know how you would go about even attempting that kind of data pool.”

 “I did actually have an idea about that,” he muttered. Nathan didn’t even turn from his multiple computer monitors and his fingers never stopped clacking away at his keyboard. “But you’re not going to like it.”

This time you groaned instead of sighing. He knew you could feel it coming before he asked - he always told you that you weren’t going to like it before he asked you to do something incredibly stupid that in any other circumstance would get you arrested and you’d never see daylight again.

But this was Nathan Bateman, and of course he was going to ask anyway. And of course you would say yes. You always said yes, it was one of the things he enjoyed most about your company, and even when you did say no, it gave way to a lively debate and a genuine argument over facts and merits, downsides and advantages, and it was fucking amazing.

It had been that way from the start, grown steadily over the weeks and months, and neither of you could really complain. Nathan quickly found that you could keep up with his train of thought even when the track switched abruptly and it was so engaging. Captivating. Enticing.

But this man. This amazingly intelligent (if almost insufferably arrogant) man was going to be the death of you. You told him that at least once a day. He took it as a personal challenge to give you a reason to keep living.

“What did you have in mind?” You doubted you wanted to know.

“What if…” he replied, clicking away, not looking up from the screen as he spoke, “we used the video and audio coding in Bluebook, and patched it through all the cell phone carriers, and rerouted all the satellite signals back here into the lab.”

Before you knew what was happening, your pen flew across the room and connected with his shoulder with a small *thwap*.

“What?” he finally looked up, mock annoyance in his voice.

“Are you absolutely fucking insane, or is this just an extra special occasion?”

*

He left the lab with no real idea of where he was going.

Okay, that was a lie. It was his house. He knew his way around and he knew where he needed to be next. There was an actual agenda but his focus was off.

He walked past the living room and noticed the chess set was still set out on the coffee table. The pieces were still fairly evenly matched, his green dragons maybe just slightly at a disadvantage to your purple ones (because, as you had mentioned at one point, why have a standard chess set when you could have a fun one? And Nathan knew you were anything but standard.)

He knew it was his turn and contemplated the board for a few minutes. No matter how he strategized it, how he worked it out, how he tried to plan it, you had forced him into a checkmate. Again. For at least the sixth time in a row, and probably at least the eight-seventh time out of the last hundredth you had played. He chuckled, softly, briefly. He could do anything with technology and science, but he rarely could beat you at a centuries-old board game.

He made his final move for this round, sacrificing his king to your queen. 

He grabbed the notepad setting next to the chess board, and your pen that lay nearby on the table. He scrawled a quick note to you - checkmate - and placed it on your side of the board, next to your fairly gained draconian horde, even though he was certain you were never going to read it.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

He stared out the window wall, out past the deck, to the running river and the dense groves of trees, off into the distance towards the waterfall.

He should be heading to the room. He should be taking care of the final chip install and making sure everything was online. Instead he simply stood in the kitchen and stared out into the rain.

It occurred to him that the agenda was more of a guideline and his knowledge of his surroundings was merely functional.

*

Nathan briefly considered that standing at the doorway to your bedroom was the last place he should be, but then decided he didn’t care. But that wasn’t true either.

He could just walk in, it wouldn’t be the first time - once you had been wearing only a towel, having just gotten out of the shower and that hadn’t been awkward at all - but that small bit of his conscience that he usually tried to ignore, told him to be polite. 

He knocked.

“What do you want, Nathan?” You sounded muffled, like you had your face partly covered by a pillow. You were probably in bed. He shouldn’t be bothering you. 

He had to bother you, just this once. “Can I come in?”

He could picture your face on the other side, eyes rolling and the sigh as it left your lips, and even though he heard the door hiss quietly as the latch released, his feet suddenly stuck to floor outside your door and his body made no further move.

“I did open the door, so if you’re going to, do it before I change my mind,” you called after a few minutes.

Nathan got his feet to cooperate and entered your room. You were in bed, face half-behind a pillow, your visible eye glaring at him. He stopped at the edge of your bed. His brain started calculating risk factors for the current situation, gains, deficits, advantages - anything it could think of, there were always factors involved, no matter what the situation was, it was just that some factors were more complicated than others. Some required more delicate, cautious manipulation to solve the equation and…

“Are you just going to stand there all night and look at me? Because I swear I really will kick you out, and then change all your passcodes.”

Of course, you teased him later about how much fun it would have been to watch him try to get back in. You swore you were going to do it one day, just for the hell of it. He didn’t mind.

“Do you regret what happened after dinner?” he finally asked.

Your glare softened and you moved the pillow away from your face. Dinner was fine. The company was pleasant as usual, the wine was frequent and flowing. The two of you had started a very animated debate about gender and sexuality as it pertained to artificial intelligence and if any of it were a necessary component or if it was just something you would prefer (he would later tell you how wonderful the expression on your face was when he told you he would be ready to start building a prototype in the next few weeks) and then.

“I don’t regret it at all. Do you?” you arched an eyebrow at him.

Nathan blew a long breath out from his nose. Did he regret kissing you? Nope. Not in the slightest. Did he regret that you might regret it (he was slightly relieved that you said you didn’t) and that nothing would come of it? Yes. And he couldn’t calculate the actual result, just potential outcomes with no concrete denouement, and that made him extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t want this to be an experiment. He wanted an absolute, not a thicket of random. Not in this case.

“No.” He still didn’t move.

“Frankly we should have done it months ago.”

He shook his head and turned just the slightest bit before your reply registered and he processed it. “Wait. You...what?”

You exhaled and sighed as you rolled over, facing away from him and trying to get comfortable in the bed again. “You know, Nathan Bateman, for being the smartest man in the universe, sometimes you are a complete idiot.”

“I’m not going to argue that. This time, anyway.”

“Thank you, because it’s nearly three in morning,” you replied. He could hear the smile in your voice. “Can we talk about this in the morning? Like, later in the morning. I’ll see you for breakfast.”

He nodded and really did turn to leave this time. He was still trying to process. “Okay. Yeah, sure. I, uh...I’ll see you then.”

“Good night, Nathan.”

*

The rain had finally stopped.

He looked out over the landscape, now reflecting and refracting tiny bursts of sunlight in the lingering blanket of droplets.

Trees crowded both sides of the rushing river, leading towards the top of the waterfall. There was a small clearing there, one that almost wouldn’t be found if someone wasn’t looking for it. It was one of your favorite spots.

Nathan found you there fairly often, after he had shown you where it was. If the weather was cooperating, and you weren’t in the house, then nine times out of ten, that’s where Nathan would find you. Sometimes you were reading a book, sometimes you were just stretched out in the grass, looking up at the tips of the timbers as they reached to the sky.

Sometimes he would join you. Those were times that deep conversations would happen, about the projects back at the house and technology and your odd fascination with disco music, which Nathan truly did not understand but tried to humor.

Sometimes he would just smile and let you have your peace. Those were times he would go back to the house and quietly await your return.

He knew that’s where he would find you now.

*

“I’m back from Anchorage,” you called as you came in the front door.

Nathan was in the kitchen and poked his head around the doorway. “Hey. Perfect timing,” he said, brushing his hands off on his pants and flipping a dish towel over his shoulder. “Dinner is almost ready.”

A tired sign escaped your lips as you flopped down on the couch, taking one of the throw pillows and covering your chest and half your face with it. “Thanks. Not hungry.”

“How was the trip?”

You snorted softly. “Wet. Raining. Absolutely miserable.”

It wasn’t what you said that made Nathan stop. It was the way you said it. Your voice sounded so tired, so empty. It didn’t really sound like you, not the voice he’d come to expect to hear every day. It was not the voice that engaged him in conversation, that drew him into theories and concepts and philosophies. It was not the voice that argued about codes and programs and why that would not work no matter how much he insisted it would (to be fair, you were usually right, but he wasn’t going down without a good fight, and neither of you would have it any other way.) The voice that was leaving your body through your mouth wasn’t you.

It sounded hollow.

He leaned against the doorway. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier and he couldn’t quite get his feet to move forward to the couch where you sat. “What did they say?”

Nathan noted that you didn’t look at him. You looked everywhere but him. Like you were trying to keep everything from falling to pieces, maybe? You were definitely not acting yourself either. Suddenly he wanted to take himself outside and kick his own ass. He should have gone with you. You’d been talking about it, for weeks now, he realized.

How tired you were. How you were never really hungry. How things felt like they were getting harder when they shouldn’t have been. How you couldn’t go quite as far on the hikes you loved taking so much, together.

He should have gone with you.

Your face did not move from its half-protected shield behind that tasteful throw pillow.

He doesn’t register most of what you said. He remembers the words “bad” and “already done everything” and “months, maybe”. Maybe. No definite conclusion.

He finally managed to take a few steps towards you.

His brain was kicking into overdrive but not a single one of that rush of thoughts would make an appearance on his tongue. There had to be another answer. Another answer that wasn’t the one he could already see in your eyes.

Your eyes. His favorite feature (at least from the neck up), the ones that showed how much life you had, your spark, your fire.

And he realized the hollowness of your voice had traveled up into those beautiful eyes.

Words stopped making sense in an instant. Everything around him got fuzzy, jagged at the edges, but also intensely focused at the same time.

He finally crossed the room and sat down carefully, warily, on the couch.

Neither of you said another word. His arms slipped around you and you curled into his chest, pulling your knees up to your own. No tears from either of you. No sounds. No words.

He didn’t know how long you stayed on that couch.

The next thing you knew you were in bed, Nathan’s arms still wrapped around you. He must have carried you to the bedroom at some point. You felt the coolness of the sheets contrast with the warmth of his body; you mustn’t have been out for long. You were about to drift off again when Nathan finally broke the silence.

“We’ll figure out a way.”

A sigh escaped your lips, half drenched in sleep.

*

It was the last place he wanted to be. It was the only place he wanted to go.

He slipped into a hoodie and pulled on a pair of shoes and stepped out onto the deck. The air was still somewhat saturated, humid, but the rain was holding off for now. It was warm but he wasn’t, so the hoodie stayed on.

His feet took him down the deck stairs and onto the path paralleling the river. He followed it slowly, breathing in the summer air but not really seeing his surroundings. Like in his house, he knew where he was heading, and this was just the agenda.

At some point (minutes, hours, he really didn’t know how much time had passed) he came to that small clearing of trees.

And there you were.

Nathan took a jagged breath and sat down next to you. His pants were soaked in an instant, but he didn’t care. He was more annoyed that you were cold and wet (he briefly considered how funny you would find the double entendre, and probably tell him that you were definitely wet but he never made you feel cold) and chuckled again when he could hear your scoffing insistence that you were fine here in your special spot.

You weren’t fine. He knew this and wished desperately that you could tell him, tell him anything, say something.

He wasn’t fine. And he definitely did mind.

Nathan didn’t know what else to do, so he just started talking.

“So, uh...I know it’s been a while. I’ve just been really busy, trying to get the AI just right, and...I’m sorry I’ve been away. That’s not what I meant to happen. I’ve been working pretty much non-stop, I know you would be nagging me to get some sleep and eat better and all that shit. And...I wish you would. I would listen to you, for once.”

Silence and the far-off chirp of a bird were his only reply, so he continued.

“I know I shouldn’t be working so much, but I kinda have to. It’s the only way I feel close enough to…”

His throat was acutely, suddenly dry. He did his best to clear it. He was only marginally successful.

“So anyway, that idea I told you about, with all the cell phone data rerouting it here? It worked. Please don’t be mad at me, I know it wasn’t your favorite idea, but I’m pretty sure that’s what finally broke this open. Well, that and all the ideas we worked out together. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me, and I know I never really did, and I probably never will…”

He had remembered to grab one thing before he left the house, stashing it in the pocket of the hoodie. He pulled it out now, a single red rose. Cliche, maybe, but they were your favorite flower.

Nathan placed it gently against the stone on the edge of the clearing. The stone with your name. It only had your first name, no dates. He could never bear to put any indicator of time on it; it was too final. Conclusive. Terminal.

He stood and started walking back. He never could stay here very long. It was absolutely ridiculous, but he usually had the feeling you would pop out from behind a tree and tease him about how impressive your joke was and he would never top it.

It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t funny, and he wished he could prove you wrong.

But there was still something he might be able to prove. To make a few things right.

He stopped at the edge of the clearing.

“I have someone else coming to the house this week. He works for the company, he’s a coder...he looks like a good kid. I’m gonna use him to test this model. This really could be the breakthrough we’ve...I’ve...been looking for.”

Nathan turned his head back briefly, to say one last thing before he headed back to the house, before he had to get back to his work.

“I promise I’ll come back soon and tell you all about it.”

The rain started softly coming down again.

~end~

tag list: @anetteaneta​ @darksideofclarke​ @girlwiththemostcake​ @rosemarysbaby13​ @spider-starry​ @writefightandflightclub​ (tags are always open if you want in just give me a holler and say so)

Cassandra Jenkins Interview: What I’m Dealing With

BY JORDAN MAINZER

I’ll always remember where I was when I found out David Berman died: on the highway, driving back from a beautiful hike in Southern Illinois, unable to pull over and look up exactly what happened, instead occupied by my own thoughts. Singer-songwriter Cassandra Jenkins processed his death in a similar mind’s isolation, though she was closer to Berman than many. Set to play in his Purple Mountains band and finding herself mourning and grieving mere days later, she had to make a change. Her old songs didn’t feel appropriate; she had to write about her loss. She got on a plane to Norway and starting writing what would become An Overview on Phenomenal Nature, her remarkable new record out next Friday on Ba Da Bing! Records.

An Overview on Phenomenal Nature is not so much a record about Berman’s death as it is one about processing things that are out of your control. Yes, he’s mentioned by name, and Jenkins’ self-described “diaristic” details refer to her story, like on “Ambiguous Norway”, where her Purple Mountains tour outfit comes in the mail and she looks at it wondering what could have been. But the album’s a document of a period in Jenkins’ life rife with general change and her responses to it. Knowing she’d need some songs she could feel good getting up and singing for an opening tour for The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn, after writing in Norway, Jenkins returned to New York to flesh out the new tunes with multi-instrumentalist, producer, and engineer Josh Kaufman. The songs are rich, but simple, leaving space for Jenkins’ matter-of-fact singing and storytelling with efficient instrumentation. On “New Bikini”, she considers how much immersing oneself in nature as a healing force really helps, thinking out loud about Berman over acoustic strumming and Stuart Bogie’s layered saxophone. “Michelangelo” is an alt-country ripper about the eternal limbo of dealing with trauma, Jenkins comparing it to a virus (“Treatable, not curable”). The epic “Hard Drive” starts with a voice memo of a tour at The Met Breuer as Jenkins reflects on different people in her life that have affected her, big and small, spoken word over Bogie’s sax; “The mind is just a hard drive,” she posits, storing information, unknowing of when a small moment might just turn profound. It’s these small moments--interactions with strangers, birdwatching in Central Park--that pepper An Overview on Phenomenal Nature and simultaneously prove to be further artistic fodder for Jenkins, a sort of symbiotic relationship of inspiration.

When I call Jenkins from her home in upstate New York, it’s clear she’s still embracing these small moments, especially as ways to cope with the push-pull of change. She had just come back from a walk in the woods and was considering going again after we were finished. “Walking has been the thing that gets me through everything right now, especially if you can find a little patch of nature wherever you are,” she said. Gearing up to release an album after being in essential isolation for a year due to COVID-19, Jenkins released “Hard Drive” on January 20th and was surprised by its rapturous response, as it landed on best-of-the-month lists and garnering a coveted Pitchfork Best New Track designation. Now, she’s receiving a slew of interview and live stream performance requests, balancing between being outwardly social and retreating to her isolation. She gets through it with her walks, and talking to friends, including those who work at Ba Da Bing!, fully aware that the significance of any given instant may or may not immediately present itself.

Read my conversation with Jenkins below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Is it weird to put out a new record at this moment in time?

Cassandra Jenkins: It is very weird, [but] I’m very fortunate. There’s no part of me that’s bummed out that my record is coming out during COVID. It’s really the opposite--this is the most I’ve been in touch with people this entire time. It’s so nice to be feeling connected to people through my music. I feel like this record is different than my other records. I don’t feel precious about it. It has launching pads for conversations. We’ve put out two songs so far, and it’s reached more people than I thought it would ever reach--it’s been really wonderful but also overwhelming, to go from spending all of my time very alone, in complete solitude, to hearing from a lot of people in my life I admire and who I feel shy around because I look up to them so much. I’m having this very strange cognitive dissonance of being totally alone and getting really comfortable with that, to talking to a lot of people. It’s sort of like being in two completely different gears at once.

SILY: Was it the Pitchfork review of “Hard Drive” that caused a lot of that?

CJ: Yeah. I blame Pitchfork. [laughs]. Those rascals! They’re blowing up my solitude. But yeah, Pitchfork was very unexpected, especially right now. I was set to put this [album] out in the spring [of 2020] on Bandcamp. But I’m thankful that this record is coming out at this moment in time. A lot of the record is about processing a difficult moment in my life. I think a lot of people are in that moment in their lives for a lot of different reasons. Oddly, though it’s very personal, it seems to be resonating with people. Had I talked to you a week ago, I think it would have been a different conversation. But the music stays the same. I’m feeling really excited by it but overwhelmed by any amount of attention, to be honest. Hearing from a few friends would be overwhelming at this point because I’m so alone. [laughs] I can’t underline that enough. We all are. It’s bizarre.

SILY: David Berman’s death was the catalyst for this record, but is it the focal point of the loss that comprises the record? Or did it inspire you to reflect on past losses and trauma?

CJ: That’s a good question. While it’s the catalyst, I wouldn’t say it’s the center of the record. It’s what launched me into this moment in my life, where I thought things were gonna be one way, and then they were not. And then they changed again. And then they changed again. A lot of rapid change in my life, and writing the record was partly out of necessity. I was planning on going on tour with the Purple Mountains band, coming home, and then going on another tour opening for Craig Finn. I was gonna play my songs I had in the bag. Once my tour got cancelled, I couldn’t play my old songs anymore. I’m really obsessed with Tig Notaro, and I heard her talk about what it was like getting a breast cancer diagnosis, and getting up on stage telling [old jokes], she just couldn’t do it. She had no choice but to write about what she’s going through. I’ve listened to her so much through this pandemic because I find her spirit and general approach really inspiring. In a similar way, I had that moment in my life, too, where I was like, “I can’t get up here and play these songs anymore.” So I wrote it all really quickly, partly so I could go on tour and sing songs I could actually sing. I tried--I booked a show at one point a month after [Berman’s death], in September, and I tried to play my songs and ended up completely abandoning them and doing this weird, pseudo stand-up set. [laughs] It was definitely not good, and after that show, I was like, “I definitely cannot get up and do this every night on tour.” I really respect Craig, and I’m not gonna open his shows this way. I had to write new songs. I have this thing, which is a tour, and what I’m doing on this tour is singing songs, and I need that, so I’m gonna make new songs.

SILY: Did you do stripped down, acoustic versions of these tracks from this record, opening for Craig?

CJ: Yes. And Craig has a great saxophonist in his band, Nelson Devereaux. Usually, it’s Stuart who plays on the record, but this was this [Nelson], and he ended up joining me for my set near the end of the tour. I usually end up playing things a little differently every night. I’ve never been too streamlined about what I do. I like staying on my toes. Usually, by the end of the tour, I’ve collected a musician or two playing with me. I was glad to have a saxophonist, because these songs have a lot of saxophone.

SILY: There are a lot of biographical moments and specific references to David on here and what happened. In the songwriting, how did you balance those more concrete moments with broader metaphors about what you were going through?

CJ: Except for “Michelangelo”, which was the only song I had worked on before, so it’s kind of an outlier, I was pulling from my journal and from my song journal and voice memos. Things I had written on scrap paper and on the subway on the way to the studio. It was very much a sound art kind of process of pulling together pieces and fragments of a lot of different moments from a very short period of my life. I was really just processing what I had been through, and what I had been through was this brush with playing with a band that was a dream come true and meeting this person I felt immediately attached to. It was strange to only know him for 4 days and have so much of my life really change. Total strangers can have that effect on me. I think that’s what I was taking away from a lot of my observations at the time: You can have very brief encounters with people that will dramatically change how you see the world. It’s a chemistry that can happen if you’re in the right mindset. They [can] say something to you that can be transformative. I’m not always looking for that. I walk into it. It’s really profound, and they’re not really trying to do that. David is one of those people, and he’s so much more than that. It’s very strange to be writing about someone who was such a brilliant writer and feeling, “I don’t feel like I have any business writing about this person, except in the way they affected me.” That’s my experience, and that’s my experience alone. I can write about that experience, but it still felt strange at the end of the day with anything outside of my direct experience of this person, because it feels really silly to think about approaching him or his work any other way. 

SILY: The emotional centerpiece of the record to me is “Ambiguous Norway”. You reference your tour outfit coming in the mail, and you’re never able to use it.

CJ: It was super weird. We all wore our suits to some of the memorials that happened

SILY: There’s a line on there that sounds like something David would have written: “The poetry, it’s not lost on me / I’m left asking how it found me.” I was interviewing someone else yesterday who had an album coming out about various types of loss, and on it, she questions how much meaning there is in loss. At what point do you stop trying to find meaning in it and accept the chaos or randomness of it? Is that something you were thinking about here?

CJ: Yeah! I feel totally inadequate so much of the time with language. It feels impossible to translate the bizarre and exquisite experiences and naturally occurring events in my life that might be brief and fleeting. How do you encapsulate that in language? It feels impossible. It’s just everywhere around me, and it will go just as quickly as it came. Sometimes, grief and loss, which may not have inherent meaning, can activate a certain way of seeing in us that allows us to see meaning everywhere, and it’s this manic, supercharged way of looking for meaning in everything. I’ve had other tragic losses in my life in the past. I remember a high school friend’s mother came to me at a funeral once and came to me and said, “There’s nothing like someone dying to make you feel alive.” There’s that element of it that turns you on to things in a heightened way. I was in that heightened mourning space and also travelling. When I got home, I felt like I was seeing everything through the lens of a traveler, observing my surroundings with so much more open space. It reminds me of reading Michael Pollan’s book on How to Change Your Mind. [When you take psychedelics], your inhibitors are knocked down in this new way. Extreme experiences like grief and loss can have that effect as much as they can also be painful. I think I was just in that space of seeing meaning and seeing connections between things and feeling blown away and not knowing what to do with them. I was like, “I am just gonna let this wash over me.” Only I can really see this harmony, and it’s pointless to explain it to someone else. It feels like I’m the only one that can make sense of it in a particular way and feel tickled by it, for lack of a better word. To feel a sensation of two things coming together in front of you.

One thing I was thinking about was this conversation I had with someone when I was out in Norway. Here I am, sitting on a dock by myself, almost at the edge of the ocean. I was writing my journal about my experience with David--it hadn’t even been a week. This Danish fellow rolls up and starts talking to me about clouds and how in Denmark, the cloud formations there look like mountains, partly because they don’t have a mountainous landscape, so they get to have the mountain feeling from the clouds. He said it in a much more poetic way, but I was thinking, “This guy doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know what I’ve gone through. Here he is talking about mountains turning into clouds, and David’s middle name is Cloud. Like, what?” Then Katie Von Schleicher texted me this cartoon that David had done. It was the drawing of a house that said “Ambiguous Norway” at the bottom. In the middle of having this uncanny conversation with a stranger, and she sends me this cartoon, it’s all this swirling stuff. I was really overwhelmed, but it was really funny, also. I felt like I didn’t know what to do with any of it, and I was writing it all down, but feeling like I was always falling short. It was isolating, but I didn’t feel alone--I was dissolving into whatever atmosphere and landscape I was in.

SILY: Your mention of the stranger reminds me of the line in “Crosshairs”: “All I want is to fall apart in the arms of someone entirely strange to me.” Of course, post-COVID, people might look at that line and think you might miss being around people.

CJ: I thought about that. It could totally read that way now!

SILY: You also have the line about a virus on “Michelangelo”.

CJ: That freaked me out, too. It does feel strangely prescient. I felt squeamish putting out a song like that. Right before COVID hit, the last performance I saw was Renee Fleming singing Bjork’s "Virus” with an orchestra. It was so beautiful and so surreal. It’s not the first time that someone’s dropped a metaphor about a virus in the song, but it’s still weird it’s on there.

SILY: Is it possible to understand this record without knowing the context?

CJ: I hope so. It’s strangely diaristic. I’ve always thought that we should be able to appreciate any art, whether a watercolor or a piece of music, without knowing the context. There are works of art that of course are incredible when you appreciate everything around them, like the footnotes of T.S. Eliot. Reading it for the first time, and how much context there is, this deep web, and how great it is to get into that person’s world and mind. But I appreciate art most when you can walk up to it and appreciate it as is, and learning more about it might deepen your appreciation if you’re curious. The fact that something deeply personal can be appreciated without context, if it’s coming from a real place. I’m embarrassed to think that it would have to be dependent on the context. I hope there’s both a reverence for the experience I went through as well as realizing there’s one of many experiences, and maybe the experience I had of running into someone at the farmer’s market can be at equal weight when thinking about our lives and the way we take things in.

SILY: We haven’t yet touched on the instrumentation of the record; it’s so layered and beautiful. How did you and Josh approach complementing your words with arrangements and instrumentation?

CJ: That was very intuitive. Josh is an incredible musician. We were just playing with stuff in the studio. We knew we wanted to get Stuart Bogie in there on the saxophone, and he also plays the flute. It’s actually kind of a stripped down record compared to my last one. I thought I was gonna go into the studio and walk out with an acoustic guitar and a vocal, and that would be the record. But we started playing with things, and Josh was playing with things while I was on my way to the studio in the morning, and suddenly there’s fretless bass on it! We’re both like, “Man, I love that!” It was never going in with an expectation and working with someone who I really trust. Josh and I really worked on these songs together. It was always guided by a lyric and a lyrical structure already in place. It kind of reminded me of working with soft clay: taking something out, putting something in. Versus walking in with a slab of marble and chipping away at it, which my last record was a little bit more like.

SILY: “Michelangelo” was started before this record, but I really am intrigued by the contrast you pose in it about the three-legged dog in the song: “Looking for what I lost” versus “Working with what I got.” Do you think that dichotomy is exemplary of the entire record?

CJ: That’s funny. I didn’t think of those things as being on polar sides of the spectrum. It’s a metaphor that’s kind of funny to me, because it falls apart when you see a three-legged dog. They’re not looking for what they lost. They’ve adjusted their gait. They’re such a beautiful model for what it is to lose something, work around it, and build balance. They do that naturally in their physiology and psychology, and they’re playing frisbee just like every other dog as if nothing happened. Of course, some of them do have mobility issues--I’ve met a few more [of those] recently. But it’s the human experience to add so much aversion to any feeling of loss. You have that analogy of getting shot with an arrow, and it’s often in our nature to shoot another arrow into the same wound by saying, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I was shot by an arrow,” instead of mending to it.

I have some medical issues, and I often am really frustrated by feeling like I’m handicapped. All of us have to face at some point or another the limitations of our bodies. To feel, “This is what I’m dealing with.” I can either be frustrated that I’m not a perfect specimen, or I can work with it. I can be myself and just enjoy that self as long as I get to live on this earth, amidst all this chaos and imperfection and wonder. That’s what “Michelangelo” is about for me, and feeling similarly about trauma. “Gosh, if I hadn’t had this traumatic experience as a child, maybe I’d be President of the United States by now, but instead I have all these bad habits because I have this deep, limiting self-belief.” But coming back, I’m like, “My trauma is actually a portal for me to connect with people and myself and get closer to a more universal experience. That’s a great gift, and I have to work with that.” That whole song is me being, “God damnit, why am I imperfect in this way?” but it’s actually the thing that will teach me more than anything.

SILY: On “New Bikini”, you sing a lot about the water. Do you find the water to be a particularly healing thing to be in or by?

CJ: Yeah. I was born right next to the ocean. [But] that song is not totally sincere. It’s a little bit of me collecting advice from people that at times brought me solace and at times was frustrating. It’s like, “Hey, get in the ocean, it will make you feel better!” “Yeah, but it’s not gonna bring someone back from the dead, and it’s not gonna fix my DNA, and it’s not gonna heal this person.” At the same time, it’s going to help me. I’m taking mineral salt baths every night and finding them to be really healing for my nervous system and thinking about that song. [laughs] I also ironically got very sick on contaminated water at the very beginning of 2020 and hated that song for a minute, as I was feeling really dejected about water. When I play that song on tour, I love that there were people in the audience who heard it, and came up to me after the show and said, “I never feel better than I do when I’m by the ocean. Thank you. I love being by the water, and that song took me there, even though we’re in Dallas.” This middle-aged woman was able to think about her really good time being at the beach. [And I’m thinking,] “I’m happy this is a space for you that you can access and that we can access together.”

SILY: When did you realize you wanted to release “Hard Drive” on Inauguration Day?

CJ: It was logical timing for when the release date was, and I saw it was on Inauguration Day and questioned whether it was a good idea. But it is a good idea because the song embraces change and struggle and a moment of time where we can pause and breathe because there’s change happening. It’s been a tough time for a lot of people. If we can talk about that, then great! It was really nice on Inauguration Day to have a song come out and not really pay attention to it. I actually felt, “All of America is having the same experience right now.” Really, the whole world is looking on. To get to experience again, very alone, a universal experience, watching the shift of power happen. I’m not really sure I love attention--I think I’ve always been way more comfortable not having attention--so I really loved, “Hey, here’s this song, gotta go, let’s watch the President now!” There was something about that moment. That people got to hear it days after the Inauguration because the type of people that gravitate towards my music were experiencing a collective relief. We could actually take a breath. So it may have reached people in a way it might not have otherwise. I didn’t realize how much it would be felt or how much I’d be feeling that day. I cried a lot that day. I think a lot of people did.

SILY: Is “Hailey” named after the actress you mention in the song, Hailey Gates?

CJ: [laughs] Yeah. I had a song called “Halley” on my last record, and I wanted to make a follow-up Halley. Halley 2.0. The other one was written by my friend Ian, and it’s a love song for the comet. So I figured I would write a love song for Hailey Gates. She’s a friend of mine and is someone I’ve often thought of when I’m going through a difficult moment, like, “You know what? That woman is so incredibly powerful in everything she does.” I look up to her so much, and I don’t think she really knows how much I look up to her. When I got really sick from drinking contaminated water, I would think that Hailey was a reporter for several years of her life, traveling, getting food poisoning, and still managing to get her message across with such grace and gusto. She has a real grit to her I admire. Grit is something that I look for in people. The fact that she has that and is also stunningly beautiful and very feminine is a cool model. I also like the challenge of writing a platonic love song and writing about another woman and letting it be about celebrating someone. In the end, it was nice to have this contrast: Mourning, but celebrating people who are alive and inspire us while we’re here. I feel kind of bad: if someone wrote that song about me, I’d be really embarrassed. I felt a little bit of shyness about it. But I hope it’s just a sweet way to celebrate women in general, and she’s sort of my mascot in that moment. Women who are really smart and powerful and have this gentleness about them as well. She’s got all these qualities that are really striking. She’s a really brilliant person. She deserves to have a million songs written about her. I’m probably one of many.

SILY: Has she heard yours?

CJ: [laughs] Yeah, she has. I think she got embarrassed. I finally sent it to her a few weeks ago, and was like, “Hey, I’m putting out a record and wrote a song about you, I hope that’s okay.” She said she was really honored to be on the record. I also reached out to Lola Kirke, and she joked, “Why didn’t I get a song about me? I just got a mention on ‘Hard Drive’.”

SILY: In the lyrics sheet for [instrumental] “The Ramble”, you have a link to a YouTube video of Chris Cooper birding in Central Park.

CJ: The Ramble is a place I went very much every day at the beginning of the pandemic. I was really saddened by the story of Chris Cooper but really impressed by the way that he handled it. I really thought of him as a role model for how we can handle intolerance. There are a lot of ways to handle intolerance and ignorance, and the way that he handled ignorance in that moment I thought was so beautiful. That interview with him is great because it’s really more about him and how he relates to birding and what a great person he is as opposed to the hatred we could walk away from the story with. He really shifted the emphasis away from behavior that was ignorant and racist towards a conversation of tolerance. He exemplified that. It’s rare you see that. I found him to be really inspiring. That’s one of so many things that happens in “The Ramble”. It was added later on. I recorded “The Ramble” when a lot of the protests were happening in New York. I went from being in The Ramble [alone] every day and birdwatching, which is something I do in a meditative way that really grounds me...to me going to some of the protests. I watched Central Park really transform into this place of progress, I guess, but it also has this life at night, known for nefarious things like drug deals, sex. It’s this wild place that I was starting to see as my sanctuary. When I saw the Chris Cooper story come out, it really saddened me, because the birding community was something I thought of as untouched. It’s so pure and beautiful. I’d seen Chris many times, and I was really sad someone treated him the way they did, and to see how in that moment that story became really important because there was a broader story happening in the public eye. He had this moment to be himself.

So “The Ramble” isn’t as much about him as about me wandering. Janet Cardiff is an artist I really love. She has a Central Park walk you can go on. It’s an audio guide that she made. It’s a poetic collage of songs and history. It really transforms the way you hear. I originally recorded my own binaural audio guide to The Ramble and ended up taking it out. I realized, “Ok, this is an album and there might be someone in Australia listening to it. How can they enjoy this walk? It’s probably better without me narrating how to walk in the space.” But it originally had this timed narrative with a start and end where you’d go on a walk with me. The ghost of that narration is there, and it’s ended up instead a spatial experience--hopefully.

SILY: The record ends with these two lighter tracks, a tribute to a friend and to a place. Was it important for you to order the album such that you talk about the loss in the beginning but it ends on this different note?

CJ: Definitely with “The Ramble”. I made every other song before COVID. I wanted “The Ramble” to exemplify how much life has changed for everyone since these songs were written. I wanted to bring it into the world we’re in now. And I want to bring it into a world with peace and hope in it. Those are two big words that are corny sounding, but I want there to be a moment for you to find peace and tranquility in a world of chaos. It is still there, and it’s okay for you to take that for yourself. Not only can we find that peace within ourselves, but we can find beauty in it and admire our surroundings. We can still appreciate everything we’re given, even in a total crisis. The Ramble was a place for me where I’d find that every day. I’d wake up at 5 in the morning every day and look at birds and feel myself vanishing in that landscape in this tiny corner of nature. I wanted to leave everyone on that note: Nature is gonna figure this out. It’s gonna take over and come in through the cracks in the sidewalk. If I can end the record with the dandelion coming through the cracks in the sidewalk, I’d like it to be there.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

CJ: That’s by my friend [Ole Brodersen]. He thought it was an interesting photograph. He’s the one in “New Bikini” that I’m visiting and he left me a post-it note that said, “Get in the water, it cures everything.” He’s a good friend of mine. We visit each other every few years. I love his work; he’s an incredible photographer and has a large-format photography darkroom he created, on an island, off the coast of Norway. In this photograph, he uses long exposures and kites. He plays with light in natural landscapes around where he lives, with this kind of unknown element in a really static environment. It’s hard for me to speak for him, but he likes to have a lot of control over his photography, and this beautiful landscape is his origin, and there’s this element of an unknown variable in all of his photographs. I looked at that photo as a beautiful example of what I’m talking about in “Ambiguous Norway”. It’s almost like there’s this intangible spirit that’s this element of poetry in the air that you can’t quite identify what it is. It’s almost a literal interpretation of that, where you see this floating magical orb in the middle.

He was such a wonderful host. When he wanted to give his partner a gift--he wanted to give her a down pillow--he shot the ducks himself, created the down pillow, and I ended up eating a bone broth made out of the bones of those ducks at some point in his house. I was like, “This is really living in your environment and thinking about the way you interact with people and objects and your environment around you.” If I can touch a fraction of that, I’m doing great.

SILY: Are you planning on playing these songs live?

CJ: I am getting a lot of calls now to do stuff online. I would love to play with a band in real life. I think about it every day. I didn’t realize how much I was going to miss playing live. I can’t wait to put a band together. I have all these different fantasy leagues in my head of which band I’d want to bring with me on tour. If this record has any kind of positive reception, I’d love to be able to pay my band really well, finally, after years of not being able to and my friends coming on tour with me because we like being with each other. I realize I can’t do that forever, and we need to make a living. That would be so great. It’s a dream of mine.

SILY: Have you thought about how you’re adapting the songs to the stage? Or is that dependent on the configuration of the band?

CJ: I think the songs are pretty flexible. “New Bikini” is only 2 chords. The songs themselves are really simple. My last record has fancy stuff. This one is “A” and “B” and that’s the whole song! I love songs where it doesn’t matter who is there and what instruments are playing, as long as we listen to each other, the song will just flow. It’ll depend on whether I’m opening for someone, how much I can afford, what feels good in the moment. I think they’re gonna take their own shape.

SILY: Is there anything else next for you in the short or long term future?

CJ: I have to be honest. I’m having a lot of anxiety because I feel like when I’m able to do things again, I’m not really ready for that yet. But I’m going to be. I feel like there are certain dreams I have about getting to play music. I’m working towards being capable of seeing those dreams come true. I hope that my health is in a good place and my mental health is in a good place. It’s been a really hard year for all of us, and I want to make sure I can be easy on myself as I ease back into the world. As much as I want to go to a party, I actually will need a lot of gradual time to ease back into the world again and process the path. We’re all going through a lot right now.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to or reading or watching lately?

CJ: I’m reading a book called The Peregrine. It’s one of Werner Herzog’s favorite books. It’s really cool. The author is English, and he’s studying birds to the extent that he almost becomes them. He talks about transmutation of landscapes and clouds and birds in a way that I was like, “Oh my god! He’s drinking the same tea I am.” But he takes it to an extreme degree where he’s questioning his sanity--and you might be questioning mine, too, at this point. [laughs]

I was just listening to Caroline Shaw. I’ve been listening to Tig Notaro’s podcast. I wait for it every week. It comes out every Wednesday, so today was my lucky day. [laughs]

Hey everyone I made a Kipo and the age of the wonderbeasts fanfic, go check it out, its ongoing!

Here's the chapter minisode for those who cant get to A03:

Chapter 1: It was me

Chapter Text

"Kipo, I...your a-" Kipos father looked away from the steel bars dividing them, kipo looked solemnly and expectantly at him

Waiting for him to say something,

Something that made sense to her

"Your a jaguar" was his continuance

"I'm sorry, I'm a what?" Her voice practically almost echoed ontop of the large rainforest tree had it not been for how low she was - wolf was quick to react to this demeanor

"Kipo! Quiet, they could hear us if we arent careful enough" quick and hush as always our little wolf is

"Oh, right, sorry" kipo could see the worry in the little wolf's eyes

She didnt want to lose her again

Not like she almost did last time

Wolf grabbed her hand as a gesture and squeezed it with her thumb reassuringly to show that she didnt mean to come off so harsh and it was okay to continue

Kipo's eyes smiled back lest her smirk betrayed her

Willingly.

Maybe unwillingly

But her next words to her father were definitely chosen;

"I'm a what?" Same as last time, yet quieter

It was nighttime, enough camouflage to hide their two headed flamingo in the bushes at the top of the trees, enough to not be seen by some of the guards that slept in a few distant ones. This was Scarlamagne's head castle, and her father was locked up at the top like rapunzel...those old stories her father used to read to her, the ones written before the meteors hit. Although instead of a castle it was the finest and tallest tree the post apocalyptic world had ever seen. Hard not to miss from birds eye view.

Her father's voice seemed dissonant now as he looked away from the bars "You're a jaguar Kipo, a, a purple jaguar"

He took a moment to let the words sink in to kipo's soft hearted eyes

"Th-" he gulped and then looked back towards kipo's direction making eye connection "that's why you're having all these weird changes, the fur"

He reached his arms through the bars to pull back kipo's sleeve...and sure enough...the fur was there "the markings, the inhuman strength you've undoubtedly shown many, many times...and - your eyes, your eyes kipo - they're cat-like"

Kipo blinked, purple jaguar eyes blaring in the night, her dad continued softly

"Even now, nocturnal, that's how you can see in the dark"

Kipo looked down grabbing her shoulder reassuringly " I know..." voice trailing off

Kipo's father on the other hand had eyes that looked heavy

Heavy with a truth he never told his daughter

"Yes honey, but what you dont know is..." he slid his arms out from between the bars and turned around quickly to slide down onto the cellar floor hands coming up to catch his tear filled face "is that it's all my fault!" Gross sobbing could be heard - but not on the outside of the cell - it was caught by the walls.

Shocked kipo looked up, benson and Dave had stayed back to guard the two headed flamingo but wolf was locked by her side in bright concern, she knows what it feels like to be lied too, she knew what was about to come next

A shock

A big reveal

A reason way Scarlamagne would put Leo in such a fancy room at the top of his castle, well, a fancy cell room.

Kipo approached the bars slowly, "tha- that's impossible, there's no way you- you could've"

Kipo's father interjected emotionally whipping his head to the left, enough to peer through the bottom of the prison bars with his back to the wall, enough for the moonlight to catch the tears flowing down his eye "but I did Kipo! Becuase I! "

A painful gargle

"Becuase I was the one to put it in you"

-To be continued, in minisode 2-

Reminder that I’m totally down to give specific warnings or descriptions or help people navigate through the video if anyone needs.

Warnings (aside from the obvious): Long post, lots of caps lock, long rambling with a large degree of incoherence. I titled this “me screaming at the new video” in docs. I was real accurate.  It took me over 2 hours to watch this thing because I kept pausing to not shut up. This is 5 pages in docs.

Okay, JUST looking at the cover, I-  are those tentacles? IS this a new side? Octoside? I can already hear all the names were going to give him. Oliver, Octavio, October wait no that’s already a Sanders shorts. Okay, intrusive thoughts, that's… Roman’s already a supplier of those. Fandom agrees, “Don’t think about your naked Aunt Patty.” So, maybe Depression? Anger? Or, is it Roman still, after all? Because I see the word Creativity there. Or tentaclereativity. So it’s still Roman, but I’m convinced that his opposite is Virgil, although I’m also sure that they implied Pride in the Halloween episode. Something about “proud of it” and then they said “let’s table that discussion for another time.”

Ugh, Roman’s been doing so wonderful on his own. He’s just been owning up to insecurities, and it’s been great. This is going to be highly related to him. Although, Patton looks like the one trying to block him out? Roman’s concerned, Logan’s miffed, Virgil is angry, and oh my god is that a MOUSTACHE OKAY I’M WATCHING. 

Content warning, oh my gosh, they were not kidding. Does that seriously say death and blood and gore? I’m just getting more hype. I mean, intrusive thoughts, I’m sure nothing will permanently, physically happen to them.  (Goodbye Fresh.) 

Dark circles under Thomas’s eyes, implication of sleep deprivation, or something with Virgil?

“The human connection will make me feel more like a person,” I came here to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now. Credits! Great job everyone! I know everyone worked real hard on this. 

Okay, Thomas in his robe, very reminiscent of Excepting Anxiety. Blasé attitude, too. Hmm, trouble sleeping (tires), overstating ‘everything going wrong,’ definitely seems like Virgil’s territory. 

Woah there he is. He’s, he’s really angry? And Patton’s voice is strained. What is happening, does Patton know……whatever, or WHOever? Yeah, he’s shifty eyed. He knows. Virgil definitely knows, and it’s not him. Oh man oh man. Oh, confirmed, they’re in on trying to avoid the conversation. GREAT TEAM WORK, PAT! Doing great, buddy. 

Roman’s rhymes are amazing. Definitely misery, though. Alright, so Thomas is having thoughts that make Virgil act up, and either he’s telling Patton, or Patton knows because of emotions. 

Roman’s so much better at summoning than Logan. And Logan knows?! Ooh, sore spot for them here. Patton oh noooo. That’s easy for you to say? 

I love the idea that, 1, Logan Falsehood’d as a reaction and an example on purpose, and 2, that he’s got a limit of one per day. 

ALRIGHT! I’ve got it. They don’t want Roman to know because he’s going to, intentionally or not, expand on whatever the thoughts are. He’s Creativity and dreams, it’s what he does and he’s not going to be able to help it, intrusive thoughts, this IS Roman-centric! Poor boy. (Kraken, sushi. Those tentacles mean something. Also the tentacle represents the C, I understand the title image now.) Yeah, they don’t want him inadvertently going into daydream mode. 

I have never seen this movie. These are freaking top-notch jokes, though. WOAH, THOMAS. Not good. Really not good. I’m still hype. Oh, is that the sort of death mention that

Television: [has hands]

Me: [strangled squeaking noise] 

Okay, I’m having, okay. Okay. Okay. I’m fine. I just. I need. Okay. I’m fine. Need a moment. Freaking out, in, a good way? I just. Really unexpected, even though I saw the hands. Oh my gosh. Can the others see him????? Because they’re looking at Roman they should see him. I didn’t know I could make that noise, but apparently I can. And I can hold it. And make it slowly go higher pitched. Okay. Okay. I’m fine now. Maybe. Okay. Hypening.

OH THEY CAN okay, oh dissonant voice. What sort of overdramatic staff is this dork NO ROMAN. 

THE DUKE?! WHAT!!! Getting heavy Warfstache vibes, btw, and why does he have a grey streak? Virgil and Logan are unconcerned about Roman, so I guess he’s fine. 

Is this a song? What is his outfit, omg. His mustache is fabulous. His eyes are kinda ringed.  in purple? 

What is happening, oh my god. Oh here’s the religious commentary, I guess. This is fine, I’m okay with this. But he’s playing Adam AND Eve himself. Dramatic dork confirmed. Oooh, you lack imagination. He IS Roman’s opposite, dang. I was so sure it was Virgil. Also YES green’s my favorite color! 

Hahaaaa! Tiny little aunt Patty naked post-it! Patton’s so distressed, Virgil ANGERY. A to Z is incredible. I missed some lyrics there; I’ll catch it when I watch it with captions the next five times. I mean, uh, no, I’d never… ten times. Nice blood spatter! What is he doing to them! What’s with the size thing? Is that a thing he can do? Or creative (heh) liberty due to song? 

SNAKE how’d I not guess that from Adam and Chava SNAKE IT’S SNAKE!

I don’t get the hand image. What is that? So far kind of the same sort of vibe from Deceit and Duke- oooh, both Ds. The whole, own up to who you are, stop lying to yourself. 

“You’ve got a fiend in me!” “Squeak!”

Oh, oh no, he’s really not quite like Deceit. He’s saying that these things make Thomas evil. Definitely not a Deceit thing to do. 

EDITING PRAISE! YOU GUYS. You guys are incredible, you did such a good job. 

“I’m your Creativity!” Officially calling those things fart trumpets. 

Oh, is he actually Creativity? Okay I’ll roll with it. Oh my gosh it’s only ten minutes into it and I can’t shut up. Virgil is so uncomfortable. 

Never bring [Jeffery Dahmer] up again got a GREAT face from Duke. Oh man. Is that true about him trying to repress those thoughts?

WHITE BEAR that episode of Black Mirror might make more sense now. 

Impressive hair blowing from Virgil, that’s the hair blowing equivalent of what Dr. Horrible did with his fingers in Brand New Day. 

Patton called Roman handsome, and I knew that second most handsome prince bit in the last episode was something he’d say, not just him trying to be all lawyer-y! (Ooh, foreboding music…)

Honestly, Logan was, if anything, even more chill about lying in CLBG, and Deceit in general (his scales are quite smooth). By comparison, he’s going off on the Duke. OOH, I KNEW THAT ABOUT THE WORD DORK! 

Ohhh my gosh the costumes are opposites! I, almost realized that, about color theory, and then forgot about the sash. And those shoulder pads are massive, Duke! Did you steal Roman’s puppet chin to make those? 

Joan! Haha, I love it, definitely something they would do. Interesting, you can hear an overlay of Joan’s voice, and Duke’s voice. Why can’t the Duke do it as well as anyone else? What did Virgil realize during the twin explanation? Hey, Cayin and Hevel, more Genesis. 

Did he mention friends and family? Oh my gosh, self-immolation is terrible, I looked it up. Like, uh, suicide for a public purpose, or to make a point? 

Laugh! Dork laugh! There’s the implication of them knowing each other. 

Oh, okay, okay. So, Virgil’s anxious, because in and of itself, whatever it was that he was thinking/obsessing over was bad. His anxiety is, well, cognitive distortions. That’s why everyone’s all bothered. Yeah, point to Logan on that oh my god, what is that camera angle, I love it.

Duke is JP confirmed. Ripped off nipples. JP from Wade’s (lordminion777) circle of friends, salty boys. That’s still their official name, right? Anyway, he’s JP.

Oh, I saw dripping off of that hand. That sequence is getting longer every time. 

Who are those, I don’t recognize them? “I’m about to smash the Hulk” you guys I think I love the Duke a little bit a lot. 

Patton, no, that’s- Patton! “That’s what repression is?” Ooh, tense Virgil moment with Logan. Yet, also touching? 

“Well THAT can’t be where the bar is.” !!!

Weird Duke blink during religion talk. It’s so funny looking at this though a Jewish perspective. It’s similar, but just a little off. And we don’t do the 7 deadly sins thing. 

Figuratively! 

Wait it’s coming from Virgil?! Uh, uh, anxious about being a bad person, subconsciously projecting it onto Thomas?

Patton too?! Oh, wait, yeah, this comes back to repression that makes sense. Oh my gosh, Logan. ! Can the Duke do the Deceit silence thing oh no, no he can’t. Close. Teeth are an improvement I think. 

Hey isn’t there an incorrect quote about Virgil drinking shampoo? 

Remus?! Oh my gosh are you KIDDING me? A new side, PLUS his name? Oh, oh that’s so clever, Roman. Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus. So clever! And definitely butt trumpets, from earlier, because AVPM’s Lupin had butt trumpets. 

Oh, direct shot and reaction at Virgil not hiding anything. And okay, I’ve changed my mind like 10 times, but I think I get it now. Haha, Logan! It was like a pop quiz! And Thomas cursed!

The scream darkened the room, that was awesome. But nobody cared. Ah, secretly a Patton and Virgil arc! 

Oh my god, Patton had a look of realization when Virgil was listing off things, is he going to tell him to not skip the callback?!

[Sad poopy noises.] Logan’s on fire today! Yes! 

Oh, he’s gone? Ha, nope! Oh it got worse, haha!

Patton, control, it’s happening! Oh, wait no. 

Virgil really used to fear him? And, oh, what were those exchanged looks during “just like old times”? Logan and Patton, and maybe Roman figured it out? Does Virgil know that? 

Roman! 

Nerdy Wolverine. Ahh, cool! Dukey problem! Oooh return of “I don’t like him.”

What, brother?! So that’s an actual thing now? But okay, alright, I guess Logan’s thing from before. NOPE EVERYTHING’S FINE NEVER COMING BACK. Romaaaaan.

Dark sides? “Others.” Oh, Thomas for sure doesn’t know. Oh dear. OH MUSIC it’s swelling oh my gosh, he’s going to tell, he’s going to tell.  Gasp! He told, and oh, so sad, and oh no he’s just sinking out?! My poor baby little precious oh I immediately see why Patton had a problem with coddling him.

Oh, oh Thomas is so confuddled. There’s going to be so many angst fics. I will read them all. 

Alright, actually a hilarious ad.  Way to incorporate intrusive thoughts into it! END CARD holy- REMUS! Oh the deodorant. And again. Nice knife, he’s going to- yep, deodorant. Oh he’s done, but he’ll have another- yep. What the heck is it, actually? 

THERE’S A SNAKE IN MY BUTT! PFF that’s going to be some fics also. Officially: I love Remus. 

Final thoughts; I’m in love, I was so wrong about “they wouldn’t throw a new side or plot relevance at us with all these warnings,” everyone freaking outdid themselves, this must have happened so soon after Selfishness vs. Selflessness, I love him, I really dug a lot of that humor, my taste in music is way worse than anything Remus threw at us (ask me about that), WHAT WERE THE THOUGHTS with the dripping hand bit, S v. S part 2 is definitely the next one, and I freaking love this video. 

Five Soda Maximum (Highschool AU) pt 3

(pts 1 and 2 here!

 As this story goes on, there’s going to be mild issues with anxiety and food, jsyk <3)

The cafeteria exit faces the treeline, so there’s no passing traffic or people walking by. The concrete pathway from the door to the parking lot is only ever really used for fire drills, so when Caleb and Nott round the corner, they’re surprised at how much quieter it is than the south side of the building, with sports and picnic benches.

Beau looks up first, pen pausing over a workbook. Caleb waves, but Beau just looks back down at her book. Caleb feels his stomach turn, and he already regrets the half sandwich he ate at lunch.

“Beau,” Fjord’s saying, using his sneaker to nudge her leg. “I invited them. C’mon.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Beau looks up, waving now. “You’re Caleb Weiss, right?”

“Right,” Caleb confirms, still biting back the dissonance at the last name even after all these weeks. “This is Nott.”

Jester looks up from her phone. “Hiiiii!” She leans back in the grass and smacks the spot next to her several times, moving a heavily adorned backpack behind her to widen up the little circle. “We already know Nott, kind of! Caleb, where are you from?”

“Germany.” He sits down in the new spot, crossing his legs and looking down at his torn up sneakers before making himself lift his head and make some eye contact. When Nott plunks down next to him, he feels a bit better. “And you?”

“Romania, but mostly here.” Her tail curls around her, snaking up to the workbook that Beau’s leaning over again and gently smacking it. Beau makes an annoyed noise but puts it down. “Fjord and Beau are regular Americans. Do you like it here?”

Caleb nods. “Everyone at school is very nice. It is, um. It is strange to see so many non-humans, but it is not, it is not bad, just different. They are all good. I like non-humans. I am friends with Nott.”

A silence begins to settle, and threatens to crush Caleb into a fine paste of shame and regret.

“Caleb’s still learning English,” Nott pipes up. “In school back home he was taking Sylvan and he only knew English from tv and stuff.”

The other three nod, happy to have something new to work with. Fjord gives a thumbs up.

“You’re doin’ great so far,” he compliments. “Fast-talking teachers aside. That’s gotta be hard.”

“He mumbles,” Caleb says, and Fjord and Jester both make pained faces in solemn agreement.

“Enunciate’s a good word,” Beau says thoughtfully. “Kind of long, but. It means to talk clearly.”

“Thank you,” Caleb says, pretending he didn’t already know that word and that people don’t get really thorny when you ask them to do that.

Beau shrugs. “If your homework trips you up, come bring it to us, we’ll help. Well.” She looks over to Nott. “I’m sure you’re already helping him.”

“I can use all the help I can get,” Caleb interjects. “Um. Your history classes are very… focused on America, and I am used to lots of focus on Europe. So a lot of it is quite new. To me.”

Jester is unpacking a small embroidered bag with cosmetics. “Nott, have you tried the new MAC Cool Exotics collection?”

Nott blinks several times. “…no,” she says, clearly not sure what she just responded to.

Jester holds up a small palette of colors from light green to deep purple. The box is sleek and black, and Caleb thinks back to the word expensive. “MAC does the best colors for non-humans. They do warm collections and cool collections, and you are green, so you are ‘cool’, like me.” She leans in and squints. “What is your skin routine?”

Beau makes a pained noise. “Don’t make her do girly stuff with you,” she groans.

Fjord laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t have to,” he tells Nott. “She’s a little makeover obsessed. Blame YouTube.”

“It’s okay,” Nott says quickly, shocking Caleb. “I just, um, is it okay if I don’t know anything?”

“That’s even better because then she gets to teach you.” Beau snorts. “We’re doomed. Caleb, she’s going to have you moisturizing and wearing sunscreen soon.”

He touches his face. “Am I sun scorched?”

“Sunburned,” Nott murmurs under her breath, scooting over to move between Caleb and Jester.

“Sunburned,” Caleb corrects quickly.

“No, she’s just excited to slap BB cream and CC cream and …” Beau shares a look with Fjord. “I don’t know, Korean skincare became a thing and now she’s obsessed.”

“Korean sunscreen is much better for you. They don’t have a lot of the bad chemicals, in it, and also, it doesn’t have that stinky smell.” Jester bites her lip as she pulls out several clips, pinning Nott’s hair away from her face. “Hm. You have an oily complexion.”

“I’m a goblin,” Nott mumbles.

Jester shakes her head. “That’s racist bullshit. Every person has some oil, or dryness, or combination problems. Goblins don’t produce more oils than anybody else. Here.” She pulls out some sort of wet wipe and holds it up to Nott’s face, showing it to her a moment before beginning to wipe her down. Nott makes a face but holds still.

“Can you, um, can you do my eyebrows?”

Caleb can’t hide the look of utter shock at those words, and Nott blushes a little.

“People always think I’m a boy.”

“You should, um. You should,” Caleb gestures to his own face. “You should make your face however you want.”

“I don’t think I would wear makeup every day,” Nott shoots Jester an apologetic glance, but she’s flapping her hand dismissively. “But maybe if. I didn’t feel so greasy. And my eyebrows were a little less messy.”

Beau leans in to Caleb. “You’re trapped here now,” she warns. “You’re a project.”

Caleb looks down at his sneakers. “Oh, no,” he says flatly, and is very, very pleased when his three new friends giggle.

**

They relocate from the bleachers. Caleb learns that if you are rich, you can have a private tutor even though you already go to school. Jester’s is named Mr. Cestovatel and Fjord says, when Jester is not around, that she definitely has a crush on the guy.

And Jester seems to be loaded, not just by Caleb’s standards, but she doesn’t act the way Caleb would expect. She loans Nott some weird looking skincare bottles to try, and doesn’t laugh at him when he admits he can’t give everyone his number because he doesn’t have a cell phone.

Beau is rude, even by American standards, but she isn’t mean. Fjord is usually punching her arm to remind her to thank someone or pay attention and it seems like she’s mostly sort of trying to get better about it. She seems to pay a lot of attention to the news, and she refers to a Twitter account where she ‘retweets’ things about Antifa, which Nott has to explain to Caleb later.

Fjord is… super nice. It’s clear why so many girls have a crush on him, even though he doesn’t have nice clothes or a lot of money, or play sports. (Caleb is delighted to learn that Fjord is going to be in Robotics class with him once it starts, and is not shocked at all to learn that this, also, is not considered cool.) But Fjord’s voice is low and smooth, and he smiles easily.  He doesn’t get in much trouble and he seems to care about people. Beau says he got bullied when he was younger for being chubby and the only half-orc in his elementary school, and ever since he shot up a million feet and started ‘making thicc look good’, as Jester calls it, he’s been the guy that shows up in hallways.

“The foster house popped up a couple years ago,” Beau says quietly one day, when Fjord isn’t there. “A few assholes used to joke that ‘the circus had come to town’, and you’ll never guess who wasn’t standing for that shit.”

“Standing for,” Caleb echoes, frowning.

Beau sits up a little straighter, deepening her voice and trying to do a southern accent. “That’s enough ‘a that shit,” she mimes, pretending to give him a disapproving look. Caleb’s eyebrows fly up and he grins.

**

Caleb doesn’t have a phone but Nott does, and so Nott will read to him from the group chat sometimes.

“Beau wants to know how to say ‘fuck you’ in German,” Nott reports one day.

“It was only a matter of time,” Caleb sighs.

Nott frowns. “You don’t like it when people do this to you,” she guesses quietly.

“No, it is fine.” And it is, somehow, because it’s been three solid days of hanging out with these people and he... doesn’t feel like a side show at all, now that he thinks about it. He really doesn’t mind. “Fick dich.”

“Ha!” Nott giggles delightedly and hovers her thumbs over the tiny keyboard. “How do you spell that?”

I’ve never sent an anonymous ask, and I’m not about to start now :-) (ok, I’ve sent one as a joke, ONE). Anyway! Hmmm let’s see. My assumptions about you. I assume that you’ve seen some shit. You’re very deep (that’s not really an assumption, just an observation). You drink massive amounts of black coffee and listen to music that some might consider to have too much dissonance to be enjoyable. You stay up way too late. Your fingernails are short and painted dark purple.

these are all ace!!!! i have indeed seen some shit (including to not limited to the choice i made last tuesday to mix fireball and vodka bc i believed it would “”cancel out the taste””). i do drink massive amounts of coffee, though it’s the sugary shit bc i dont have the fortitude for black coffee. i am a fan of weird ass dissonant indie! and my fingernails ARE short, though tragically unpainted at the moment. 10/10 feeling very read!

Cloudchaser and Flitter Explain: Songs

Continentals. I just don't know what to play…

Oh don't be silly. We all know what your favourite deck is.

Well, sure. And it's a lot of fun. But the current meta is so control heavy, I’m not sure it'll do too well.

So do I play it and just try and do my best regardless? Or do I try to play a control deck instead to capitalize on the meta? Or maybe something else?

Time's running out! I should have made a decision by now! Augh!

Aww, Cici… You'll do fine. You always do.

Yeah, but I want to win.

Well, I know what'll cheer you up! I'll sing a song!

Cici, Cici, she's our mare! She'll win all the Ultra Rares!

Heh. Not much of a song.

But you're smiling!

And now that you're happy, it's time to discuss our topic for the day, Songs!

Well, and Epiphanies, since they're close enough we may as well batch them in. But we'll mostly just be talking about Songs.

Songs are one of the more interesting and fun kind of card in the game since they’re pretty different from just about every other event in the game.

While most events are straightforward and do one thing and only one thing...

...Songs do one of three different things, allowing you to pick the best of the three for the situation you're in.

And Epiphanies are even better as they let you pick two of the three things for even more versatility!

Songs have become a staple in many decks for awhile now because of that versatility. Most songs do at least one good thing, if not more, so it's pretty easy to justify running them over similar cards.

Of course, there's usually a tradeoff. The multi-colour songs require you to be using specific colour combinations, while the one colour songs frequently cost more than similar cards would. It's not always right to use a song over something similar, depending on what your deck needs.

As a simple example, Special Beam Cannon banishes a resource for 1 AT, while Luna's Future does that for 2.

Now if you never intended to use any of the other verses on Luna's Future, it's probably better to go for the cheaper one. But if the temporary banishment or buffing of a Troublemaker helps your strategy, it can be worth spending the extra AT for the versatility.

Likewise, Glass of Water and Splash Attack both let you turn a Troublemaker face-down for 1 AT. But, Glass of Water requires you to be in both Yellow and Purple, so isn't always better despite having more options!

You have to consider all of the benefits and downsides of the song first. Running Yellow/Orange? Bats! is probably a good inclusion! Running Yellow/Blue with just a tiny bit of Orange? Maybe Bats! isn't for you and you should stick with Bewitched Beavers.

Or maybe Bewitched Beavers is even right over Bats! simply because you'd rather have your resource removal at Immediate speed! There's a lot to things to consider!

So as you can probably guess, simply running songs over similar cards isn't always right.

But it usually is.

Just like Cici!

Cici, Cici, she’s so right! Her words of wisdom light up the night!

...What does that even mean?

That’s an exercise left open to the listener.

Oooookay then. Moving on.

So sometimes it's not always clear which is better for your deck, a song or a similar not-song. So how do you know which to use?

Easy. Practice!

Try the deck with the song and try it with the other card and see which worked better for you. Then use that one.

Though I guess technically that's advice for just about any card.

Still doesn't hurt to bring up now!

True.

So that covers when to add them to your deck, but what about when they’re already in your deck. How do you choose which verse to use?

That's… harder.

Sometimes it's pretty obvious. Opponent has a nasty resource in play you need to dismiss, so playing Friends Are Always There to dismiss it is probably more important than making 3 Critters.

Or maybe you're 3 power short from DFOing and only have 2 AT and have never seen the opponent play a resource, so using it to make Friends is the right call after all.

Silly Cici.

Making friends is always the right call! Just ask Pinkie!

Er, uh… I meant in game.

Sure, making friends through games is great.

But you can also make friends through parties or interpretive dance or snowboarding or learning the Vuvuzela, or traveling to Yakyakistan or—

I get the picture.

Point is, sometimes it's pretty obvious. But sometimes, well…

Sometimes it's not.

Maybe you want to DFO and are 3 power short and Friends Are Always There is your only way to get that three power… but you know your opponent has lots of annoying resources and annoying non-epic troublemakers, even if they're not in play now.

You could play it now and DFO and get some points…

But if they play a Staff of Sacanas the next turn, you might find yourself in a rough spot and wish you still had that resource removal.

Quite the predicament. So what do you do, Cici?

Well, in my professional card playing experience, I can tell you with utmost confidence that…

I don't know.

Whaaaaaat? But you're supposed to be the expert, Cici!

Cici, Cici, she knows it all. Her knowledge of the game’s not small!

Heh, thanks.

Mine neither.

But, seriously. There's no inherently correct answer.

It's possible you'll get punished for making the risky aggressive play, but it's also possible you'll get punished for making the safe defensive play. Unless you have perfect knowledge of the opponent's hand and deck, there's no way to know for sure.

It comes down to a judgement call. Make your best guess as to which is right and hope. That's part of the downside of having choices. Sometimes you make the wrong one and have no way of knowing until it's too late.

But hey. It was a choice you had the opportunity to make that you wouldn’t have if it was a similar non-song card, at least. And once you've been in a similar situation enough times, you'll be able to draw on your experiences to help weigh in the decision next time it shows up.

It’s…. tricky.

But honestly I find it a pretty rewarding skill to grow. And it can feel great when you get to the point where you feel you're making that kind of decision right most of the time.

But, like most skills in this game, it's something you can only really refine with practice. And you will occasionally make mistakes.

Yeah, even Cici still makes mistakes every now and again. Nopony's perfect.

Well, except for Princess Celestia.

Uhhh, I'm pretty sure even she's not—

It was a joke, Cici.

Oh. Right.

Anyway, that's just about it… but there's still 3 cards we need to bring up with regards to songs!

Dance Fever: Dancing Machine, Spike: Master of Ceremonies, and…

It's just those two, right?

Nope!

We also need to go over how Songs and Epiphanies work with Wake Up Call!

Well, and I guess Octavia: Harmony and Dissonance, but that interaction's basically the same.

Huh, yeah. That is worth mentioning.

So our little card game works a bit weird when it comes to canceling events. Specifically, you don't decide what the output of an event will be until it's resolved.

Normally, this doesn't matter. You just play your I'll Fly, say you're moving your Mane to your problem, and that's it!

But when a Wake Up call is in play, the opponent has the chance to stop your event from doing anything. So it's best not to say what you're doing when you play your song.

Just say “I'll play I'll fly. Are you canceling it?” and wait for them to answer. If they do, then put it in the discard pile without saying anything else. But if they don't, then you say what you're doing with it.

Technically there's nothing wrong with saying what you're intending to do with it, but it might affect your opponent's decision on whether or not to cancel it!

You're just giving up a tactical advantage. So keep it in mind, but don't sweat too much if you mess it up now and again. Especially since those cards are pretty rare.

Now let's get to the more fun cards, Dance Fever and Spike!

Dance Fever is fun and cares about the songs you play by giving another character +2 power until end of turn, which is a pretty nice bonus!

That being said, there can occasionally be some odd interactions with him, despite how straightforward he is.

Take for example Find the Music In You. One of its verses is to put a friend into play from your discard pile. But you can't choose that friend for Dance Fever's ability, right?

Bzzt, wrong! Since you process Dance Fever's ability after fully completing the Song, you totally can! Great way to sneak in some extra power!

Spike can get similarly complicated, only even crazier. A lot of songs have verses that can have non-intuitive results when processing all three verses. But there's two simple rules to follow that should clear up most of the issues.

One: Process all three verses in order. And by extension, don't process any verses until the previous ones are all done.

So if you play Music in the Treetops, you get to manipulate a problem deck, then put 2 critters into play, then have each player retire a friend. Which can be one of those criters you just put into play!

On the other hoof, if you play Make This Castle a Home, you can't use the first verse to draw the resource you put on top of your deck with the third verse since the third verse always happens afterwards.

And singing songs out of order is just silly!

Incidentally, this is true for Epiphanies too. Whichever modes you choose, you have to do in the order listed on the card.

Two: Even if one of the verses starts a faceoff, you finish the rest of the verses before moving into the rest of the faceoff.

So if you play It's Time To Be Awesome, you'll still boost all your characters for the turn before finishing beating up that Troublemaker.

That Troublemaker will never know what hit it!

Other than that, it should be pretty easy processing songs even with Spike out.

Which about wraps up our thing on songs! Feel better now, Cici?

Yeah, a bit. Still not 100% sure what to do with continentals, but we’ll see.

Oh stop worrying! You’re too awesome to worry about stuff like this!

Cici, Cici, she's so awesome! She's the best cause she's so awesome!

Okay, you're not even trying anymore.

Cici, Cici, she loves my songs! We're besties cause we get along.

Okay, okay. I get it.

Though I thing those qualify more as cheers than songs.

Nonsense. My songs are works of art that will be treasured for years to come!

Cici Cici, she's so—

Yeah, okay, you'll do this for hours if I don't stop you, so I think this is time to say goodbye to everyone.

Bye everypony!

Top 10 Albums - Part 1

The Brief

“In no particular order – 10 all time favourite albums.

What really made an impact and is still on your rotation list, even if only now and then.”

As always, because I'm me, I'm going to break and change the rules for my own amusement and so it will hopefully be a more interesting venture. I'm going to discuss 10 of the albums that became important to my life. This is partly because the only way I could possibly nail this list down to only 10 albums was to select ones that were particularly formative or influential, and partly because since I'm not very good at analysing music, having some form of narrative behind them will help structure my choices and my posts. In that sense, then, they are in a particular order: I'll be putting these out in a bibliographic chronological series, in the approximate order that I discovered these albums during my life.

A quick note about the way in which I listen to music. I have synesthesia, which means that every song and album I listen to has colours that I strongly associate with it. This, while a thoroughly enjoyable part of my life, sometimes has drawbacks when discussing music as there are certain songs that I just can't help ascribing colours to. As an example in this essay, I couldn't help but describe the song Lord Grenville as “grey”, and I'm sure this phenomena will show up again.

So then.

1. Al Stewart – Year of the Cat. (1976)

YotC was the 7th album to be released by Al Stewart, from his rather extensive discography of 16 original albums, with a few live records and an instrumental one on top for good measure. His genre is primarily folk-rock with a strong emphasis on his spectacularly complex and beautiful guitar style. His favourite subjects for songs are history and wine, the latter even warranted an entire album dedicated to it in 2000, called Down in the Cellar. As for history, I swear I've gained more knowledge about history that has actually stuck because of these albums than anything else in my life. I specifically used one of his songs (League of Notions) to revise for my history GCSE exam, and another one (Post World War 2 Blues) to help me remember information in my history A Level classes. A caveat: this is not actually my favourite album that Al Stewart has ever released. That crown goes pretty unequivocally to Modern Times, released in 1975 and immediately preceding YotC in his discography. So this immediately seems like a pretty stupid pick.

Before the age of 10 I didn't really have a music “taste” per se. My dad reckons that the first artists I ever vocally showed a preference for were Abba and the Eagles, both choices that I will defend because I still think they're both great. I also loved Deep Purple (their album Who Do We Think We Are nearly made the list), but I didn't have any devices on which to listen to music as a solo venture, there were just constant tunes on in the house and car. However, it just so happened that we went on a family holiday to Canada in the summer of my 10th year, and this holiday involved a 10 day road trip in a camper van around British Columbia. It was amazing, the views were astounding, and we stayed in a new campsite every night which meant lots of new sights and exciting locations, but it also meant a rather large quantity of driving. My dad, at this point, had an MP3 player that was slightly smaller than a brick and which he had loaded with however much data a brick could hold in 2006. He handed me the MP3 player and suggested that I listen to this album because he thought I'd like it, so on one of the days of travelling I stared out of the window and listened to Year of the Cat back to back. It was the first time I'd ever heard any of Al Stewart's music and I remember my very first thought being “he has a weird voice”, but as I got used to it the songs stuck and later as we walked around a vineyard I couldn't stop singing the song Broadway Hotel. I think it was my first ever favourite song, and certainly the one that I remember changing how I listened to music. This album wasn't just on in the background, it was playing because I chose it and I wanted to listen. Long story short, YotC was the direct cause of me asking for and subsequently receiving a minute iPod nano that next Christmas, and so I accredit this album as being the direct cause of me starting to listen to music as a whole.

I feel like I should actually talk about the album for a bit. The final track on this album is the titular song Year of the Cat, which to date remains Al Stewart's most famous release. Some of you would recognise it, it still gets played on various radio stations from time to time. It's a gorgeous, largely instrumental song of almost 7 minutes, involving a large array of solos from various instruments. The cat is a year in the Vietnamese zodiac, coinciding with the year in which the song was recorded. The lyrics are a semi abstract reference to the comedian Tony Hancock, whom Stewart saw perform a couple of years before his suicide in 1968. The song has a basic narrative: the tourist protagonist whom we hear about in the second person is walking through a market and meets a woman. He gets distracted by her, loses his sense of perspective and his grasp of time, and the next day realises that his bus has left without him. This coincides perfectly with the meandering solos and instrumental interludes of the single, the listener can feel that they are getting gently lost in the passage of time but (if you're like me), you don't really mind.

So that's the single, what about the rest of the album? As a record it is relatively short, only 9 tracks if you don't include the bonus songs from the 2004 remaster (I don't). I'm not going to go into each song in so much depth, but every track has it's own certain atmosphere that serves to build the overall feeling of a somewhat pensive yet occasionally magical world. Lord Grenville, the opener, is a grey perspective of the situation of Sir Richard Grenville, who was a Lord, soldier, and sailor in the 1500s, now famous for dying when refusing to surrender his ship to Spanish fleets in the Battle of Flores. On the Border is half about the Basque Separatist movement (a situation involving a group of Basque organisations seeking for independence from France and Spain), with the second half of the song revolving around Robert Mugabe, who is now the ex Prime Minister/President of Zimbabwe. Flying Sorcery is a reflection on the life and achievements of Amy Johnson. Not all the songs are based in such concrete evidence: the aforementioned Broadway Hotel is an investigation into people who choose to live in hotel rooms, questioning the feelings of loneliness, isolation, and love that could arise in those situations. It is, then, genuinely surprising that the incohesive subject matter of the individual tracks lends itself to a finished product that feels complete and without tonal dissonance. That may stand as a testament to Stewart's lyrical and musical skill: love songs are treated with no less verbosity than songs about prominent political figures, and the distinctive sound of his intricate guitar patterns is a constant throughout the record.

I could go into this much depth and more about all of Al Stewart's albums, and do full analyses about a great number of his songs, but this was supposed to be an explanation for why the album YotC is important to me and I've already gone way over that particular boundary. The album Modern Times, especially, I think is an undiluted masterpiece of everything that is good about Stewart's songwriting, and I half wish I had spend more time discussing that in this essay. The enigmatically titled Apple Cider Re-Constitution is one of my absolute favourite songs, along with the song Modern Times, an 8 minute long masterpiece of nostalgia and the way in which different people remember their pasts. Other honourable mentions from Stewart's discography include the legitimately harrowing 8 minute Roads to Moscow, (a narrative of the German invasion of Russia during the Second World War through the eyes of a Soviet partisan), and a 13 minute live version of his epic Nostradamus. When written down like this, these songs sound depressing and miserable - and while Roads to Moscow is admittedly not the most jocular of tracks - even despite the heavy subject matter and the sometimes inherent lyrical complexity, Al Stewart's songs are always melodious, engaging, and interesting.

So really, all this to say: when I was 10 I listened to Year of the Cat and it spurred in me an interest in music and history that, I expect, will last the rest of my life.

Selective Chromophobia & Castlevania

Kotaku recently ran a piece called Circle Of The Moon Is Secretly The Best Castlevania Game. My own opinion is that Circle of the Moon, although serviceable, lacks flavor and an identity, coming across really as a competent fan project, and I hadn’t given much thought to the series for a while, so I was interested to see if the article presented any novel points. Instead, it regurgitated a bunch of lukewarm takes I’ve seen for a decade or more. Pretty disappointing (hire me, Kotaku; I’ll write decent stuff for you on Castlevania)!

None of them, though, bugged me as much as this bit:

The dark color palette drew criticism for being too difficult to see on the original Game Boy Advance’s screen, which lacked a backlight, but one only need look at the overly-bright technicolor sequel Harmony of Dissonance to see how effective Circle of the Moon’s palette was in creating an imposing game space.

I don’t wish the author any ill will and I recognize that it’s not worth getting too worked up about, uh, videogame palettes. At the same time, it’s disappointing that it’s been fifteen (fifteen!) years since Harmony of Dissonance’s release and its appearance is still regularly treated as a radioactive object, as if an appreciation of the series about meaty men hitting Dracula to death in a hell-zone for the hundredth time requires a polished, antiseptic sense of Good Taste. Why! I’d never be caught DEAD enjoying such a garish object! Remove it from my sight -- at once!

What irritates me here is how it ties into the associated argument -- just as lukewarm as anything else -- that Circle of the Moon’s darkness was a return to form, an evocation of what Castlevania was, and what it should be. Harmony of Dissonance is cast as an overreaching aesthetic betrayal, ugly in itself and ignorant of what came before it in its quest to be visible. I’m not even going to get into the whole ‘[Entry] is TRUER to [Series’] Eternal Spirit, and is thus Superior’ pile of bullshit (I know I could do it myself with the Lords of Shadow games, and how I believe they strayed too far from the series’ defining particularities), but I am going to get into the mess that is this idea that Circle of the Moon is visually closer to the older Castlevania games than Harmony of Dissonance is, so that the former argument can be preemptively rendered moot.

Thing is, some people have developed an imaginary idea of what has traditionally constituted the Castlevania series’ aesthetic traits. My only guess as to how or why this has happened is that these same people have taken the abstract, “dark” conceits of Vampires + Castles + Maybe Satan Somewhere and superimposed that onto the games, rather than letting the games’ actual content inform the character of those conceits, while also neglecting to replay the games in question for years. This might also be a weird manifestation of that Nerd Syndrome whereby an aging populace decides to imaginatively recast some old, kitschy subject matter to fit into an anxious conception of what being an adult is (and it obviously means consuming Adult Entertainment: consumerism is the point of life, after all, and what could Adult Entertainment be other than “dark”?).

Anyway, if you pull up almost any screenshot of the first four “main” Castlevania games, this is what you’re bound to see:

Fact is, classic Castlevania was very colorful! Super Castlevania 4 adjusted the mood to something more somber, and its artists still couldn’t help inserting bunches of vivid greens, purples, and oranges, and making its darker portions remarkably polychromatic regardless. It would be disingenuous to claim that Castlevania 2: Simon’s Quest’s look is akin to that of Kirby’s Adventure; but it would also be outright false to claim that, even its large portions of pure black noted, it is not a richly colorful, perhaps even -- oh, no!!! -- gaudy, game; and the same is doubly true for Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse (whose fiercely clashing visuals, as far as I can tell, have never received any flak; in fact, it tends to be treated as one of the NES’s handsomest titles). And if you want to move onto Akumajo Dracula (X68000), Rondo of Blood, or Bloodlines, there are just as many instances of brooding darkness as there are surprising, generous applications of bold, bright colors. It is really only with the SNES remake of Rondo of Blood, entitled Castlevania: Dracula X, where the overall palette assumes an earthen tone, and it has also never been the standard to which other titles in the series have been compared in any regard.

So when people say that this

is closer to {R E A L Castlevania} than this

all I can do is shrug and say, “I hope it at least feels good to be wrong!”

Well, now I can also link this post. And you can too! Spread the word! Harmony of Dissonance has an in-series precedent, and it is gorgeous to boot! I love it!

P.S. I would also point you to these older pieces on Harmony of Dissonance and Aria of Sorrow, among the very few criticisms I’ve read that recognize and compliment Harmony of Dissonance’s formal ties to the NES trilogy.

Twilight Chapter 15/16 review: Meyer Wrote This Story Sideways, I Swear

I’m in a bit of a pickle right now.

See, I read two chapters of Twilight back-to-back today. This is because chapter 15 ends in a really awkward spot. Edward starts telling Bella about Carlisle’s backstory, but he stops partway through rather abruptly and picks it back up early into chapter 16.

Now, I could see it being done like this if Meyer wanted Carlisle to join the conversation and talk about his own past in order to get a feel for how the man himself reflects on it, but this doesn’t happen. Chapter 16 starts with Edward taking Bella to Carlisle’s office to ask him to continue where he left off, but Carlisle has to fill in for another doctor who called in sick and can’t say anything, leaving Edward to tell Bella more about Carlisle. The chapter transition has no point other than giving Bella an excuse to gush about the size of Carlisle’s book collection and a painting on the wall when she steps into his office.

So chapter 15 doesn’t really end and I read chapter 16 as well. But now I have two chapters’ worth of content I need to say my piece about, and if I put all of my thoughts into a single post it would be too long. So here’s what I came up with. I’ll be splitting the review of this couple of chapters into three parts. This one, which will cover most of the content in both chapters, and two more parts which will deal with Carlisle’s backstory and Edward’s backstory specifically. Carlisle’s backstory forms a bulk of both chapters and is big enough it deserves its own review, and while Edward’s backstory is not given anywhere near as much focus (strangely enough) that small section is nonetheless rather important and I want to give it my undivided attention.

With that out of the way, let’s begin the chapters in earnest.

Chapter 14 ends with Bella falling asleep to the sound of Edward singing a lullaby too quiet for Charlie to hear. Chapter 15 starts with Bella waking up the next morning, and after the initial surprise of it, she is ecstatic to learn that Edward stuck around all night long and was at her side when she woke up.

Well, after being flattered by Edward breaking into her house every night to watch her sleep without her consent nothing surprises me. Maybe it’s just another chance for Edward to lose control and turn Bella into a vampire. I don’t know.

Anyway, after Edward informs her that Charlie already left, Bella has breakfast and as she’s eating it Edward tells her he’d like Bella to meet his family today... and eventually he’d like Bella to introduce him to Charlie as her boyfriend. After some squabbling about the word “boyfriend” Bella reluctantly accepts Edward’s proposal to meet his family.

But not reluctantly in the sense that she’s afraid of being eaten by half a dozen vampires, oh no. That’d be the sane reaction. Instead, Bella’s reluctant because she’s afraid the Cullens won’t like her!

Because if the Cullens don’t like her, they won’t go along with her inevitable pleas to turn her into a vampire. Come on; for what other reason could this cognitive dissonance possibly exist?

Oh, and Edward points out how irrationally Bella’s behaving. This is actually something rather common in this book, for several characters. Most of the time, someone will acknowledge that a given character is being stupid, crazy, or a jerk. But aside from Mike in chapter 7, no one ever actually learns from being called out and keeps doing what they aren’t supposed to be doing. It can only happen so often before it gets annoying.

No wonder Mervin started keeping track of it with the Sin Thine Ass Off counter.

Back to the story. Bella quickly gets changed and then Edward takes her to the Cullen household, which is understandably pretty far away from the rest of town. Then Bella goes into detail about the surrounding scenery, and the exterior of the house… and the interior of the house when Edward takes her in. The extended description is surprisingly not filled with purple prose and does what it is intended to do: give readers an idea of what the setting looks like and provide atmosphere for the coming scenes. Thankfully not everything Cullen-related is dazzling.

And now Bella meets the rest of the Cullens… well, save Rosalie and Emmett. Rosalie is the only one that doesn’t like Bella and Emmett’s trying to reason with her, according to Edward. Though Emmett still has enough common sense to consider Edward a lunatic for staying with Bella; he just doesn’t have anything against Bella herself. Upon learning this Bella asks Edward what Rosalie dislikes her for and after Edward says it’s because she’s jealous, Bella asks how Rosalie could possibly be jealous of her.

Yeah, Bella! How dare someone stuck being teenager for all eternity be jealous of someone capable of growing up and living a full life? I mean, that’s not quite the reason, but as usual Bella is too dazzled by appearances to even consider that.

As for the actual reason? In due time… In due time…

Back to the Cullens that actually meet Bella, Carlisle and Esme are the first. Carlisle is amicable enough to request that Bella refer to him by his first name (after previously referring to him as Dr. Cullen). As for Esme… she’s very happy. Almost too happy. She pressures Edward into playing the piano for Bella and Edward later says that even if Bella had webbed feet and a third eye she’d be impressed. Edward had gone on without a partner for so long (and flat-out rejected Rosalie, let’s remember) that Esme was apparently getting worried that he’d be forever alone.

I wonder what Esme would think if Edward brought a boy home instead of a girl.

Also, when describing Esme, Bella compares her to Snow White. That’s three allusions to Disney princesses now.

Then down comes Alice! She stops just short of glomping Bella in excitement. Esme could be seen like the mother who’s relieved that her son is straight after all… while Alice is definitely the fangirl who’s celebrating her OTP finally becoming canon.

I like Alice. Alice might be crazy, but unlike Bella and Edward who understand the problems with their actions but do them anyway, she’s innocently crazy. Her having no memories of her human life means she has no innate understanding of social etiquette and her ability to see the future might give her a warped sense of morality. Scenes like this one demonstrate her naivety when it comes to basic, human things like introductions. The rest of the Cullens are reserved and trying to ease Bella into getting to know them, understandably trying to make sure Bella isn’t frightened by a bunch of vampires she’s never really met before. Alice, however, holds nothing back and shows off just how much she wants to befriend Bella the moment she can.

It actually provides a nice contrast with Bella. Bella is a compulsive liar that can’t comprehend just telling the truth is an option, while Alice has no conversation filter thanks to her unique circumstances and has difficulty lying when she should. One can only imagine what Alice had to go through in order to learn how to pass as an ordinary high school student (and she seemed a lot quieter in chapter 12 too; in hindsight, she was clearly out of her element).

Again, I posit that Bella/Alice would be more interesting than Bella/Edward, since their personalities actually complement each other and they can help one another overcome their flaws.

In contrast to Alice, Jasper is the most shy about meeting Bella. He doesn’t even as much as shake Bella’s hand and actually initially uses his power to make Bella feel better about meeting him before Edward gives him a sharp glare and he stops it. Again, this is an effective introduction for him because of course Jasper would be the most hesitant at meeting Bella; he’s the one with the worst control issues and has to worry about losing control the most.

It’s just a shame we’re getting these Establishing Character Moments after Edward gave us a bunch of exposition about them in chapters 13 and 14. Showing Alice’s lack of social skills and Jasper’s hesitance and then explaining what was up with them would have given the scenes more impact. As the books are structured, Alice and Jasper are given exposition first as just a bit of fluff breaking up the pace of the story, and these moments here only back-up what Edward was saying; an Establishing Character Moment loses its weight when we already know what to expect. Had I been writing this story, I wouldn’t have gone into detail about Alice and Jasper until right after these moments here, with Bella asking why they were acting weird as a segue into Edward explaining their backstories. The chapter would end when Edward finishes and starts showing Bella the upper floors of the house, leaving the chapter hanging as Edward’s about to talk about Carlisle’s backstory, with chapter 16 devoted entirely to that with Carlisle adding to the discussion himself for reasons I pointed out earlier.

And with that… it’s over. Practically nothing substantial happens after meeting the Cullens for the rest of these two chapters. After they leave, Edward starts playing the piano for Bella. Then Edward talks about Carlisle. Then Edward talks about himself. Then chapter 16 ends with Alice and Jasper letting Edward know they’re going to play some baseball in the back yard. In the middle of it all Edward brings up Alice having a vision recently about some human-eating vampires coming to visit (which seems to be there just so Meyer can say that James doesn’t come out of nowhere), but that’s pretty much it from the plot development standpoint.

Next time Carlisle’s backstory is getting closely examined for any story-related illnesses we may diagnose it with.

Life Story - Part 27

Ava, Sarah and I used to go to the end of Kendrick and spend our early summers swimming in a swimming hole in the creek. We would get there early, and then leave in the early evening. It was one of the most pleasant and simple times of my entire life. My belly hurt from laughing just about every day I came home. Katie wouldn't step foot in that water so she didn't go with us on these trips, and now that I am an adult, I can certainly appreciate her reasons. Upstream not too far there was a cattle ranch, and the cows just freely did their thing in that squalid little area – all to be washed down into the swimming hole where us young maiden swam and splashed. When my older sister Maria had been a teenager, she had once let herself sink a little. Her foot went straight into the bloated gut of a dead animal that had sunk to the bottom. Just thinking of this, I can feel the depth of slime on my own foot somehow. In my naive, thirteen going on fourteen year old mind – things that had no human value to me at the moment could just as easily not exist. Logic meant very little to me. I found this very valid reason to not swim in the swimming hole at the end of town painfully intrusive to my personal enjoyment. I was really having quite a good summer that year, and I have always absolutely loved swimming so why would I want to ruin it on account of microscopic bacteria that I couldn't even see.

After swimming, we would go up to Sarah's house, get changed, and go downtown. We would go down there just to sit, and people watch. I tried to draw a few times, but whenever I try to draw outside on bright summer days, the paper will always hurt my eyes. We would find strange games to play. One game that Ava and I made up that I particularly remember was 'Guess their name'. Incredibly obnoxious, and fun if you are into that sort of thing. Basically, as you and your friend sit in front of the store or somewhere public where people are coming and going, when someone was getting into their car, you just started shouting out names to see which one they responded to you on. Eventually the person would look over like you were crazy. But whoever had shouted the name that they looked over at us puzzled to, that was the name that person had. If you guessed it, that was your point. If your friend guessed it, they got the point. We got really competitive, and when you do this, you will end up saying the same obscure name over and over, like Olaf or Margot. I remember my brain was stuck on the name Boris, which is not a common name. So it ended up a lot of men's names were Boris.

After that, we would all head up to Sarah's house where we would sit around the table, draw and listen to music. It was very entertaining for me, and I was never ever lonely back in those days. Carol had troubles with Ava being at the house. Ava was extremely loud, and every time she walked into Sarah's house she would knock the lamp over. Also, Ava had this undying need to drink milk. She would drink an entire gallon of milk in a single day. Both Sarah and I were asked by our parents to stop drinking so much milk, not realizing that it was almost entirely upon Ava. I just would quietly take the blame, knowing that Ava would have a meltdown of insecurity and accusations if I even suggested she not drink all the milk.

Katie was very distant with us. She was going through something very strange, and she was never really all that honest with me about what that was. I had to look for her often. Her mother worked as the receptionist at the small dental clinic. Sometimes she would be in there. She seemed depressed but like she was hiding it and saying things she didn't mean and smiling even though her eyes were unhappy. As the person I am today, I would have done more to coax her to letting me know what was wrong, but back then, I was really just wondering why she was intentionally missing out on all the fun. I didn't realize that Ava had been spoonfeeding her things that she made up that we had said. I didn't really understand why someone would do that. I think to a degree also Katie was feeling jealous.  Samantha had her first boyfriend. She was the first one of us to have a boyfriend, and Katie felt this was unfair since she was older. I don't remember the chaps name that Sam was with at the time, and it doesn't really matter since there were many more to come. Samantha was dating another guy a week later. Katie was jealous, and I remember she started calling Samantha a slut. Which made me mad, because though I wasn't sex positive in those days, I wasn't that sex negative either and I didn't think it was nice.

Katie started wearing make up and when she talked she seemed to not be talking to the person who was talking to. She had this extremely fake laugh that upset me and made me feel a strange dissonance. I wanted to know what was wrong. She seemed like she was about to crack in two. I think she was feeling ugly and maybe like she didn't belong – and maybe she didn't in some ways that seem more obvious to me in retrospect. Perhaps she was comparing herself to others. I didn't really know because I was so obsessed with what I was up to. Sarah was also kind of in a funk, though a soft peaceful one that didn't really surface most of the time. It felt strange to me, because in a lot of ways it felt like Ava and I were incredibly enthusiastic about being alive, and Sarah and Katie, the people who I had been kind of trained to look up to, well they both seemed to be kind of distant and lost. Sarah wasn't full blown depressed. She just wasn't as excited as Ava and I was and I was having this blast of a time. Life felt hysterical, like a whimsical upbeat costume party with over 100 people. Sarah had given up on dating Rex. Rex had taken a popular girl named Amy to the prom, and it just hit a switch in Sarah's mind I guess. Amy went on to be one of the top ten contestants to be Miss Idaho in the Miss America pageants one year, and sometimes in the Moscow mall for years later I would see her stock photo picture. Sarah probably felt outclassed.

Sarah and I were sitting in her mom's computer room one day, and Sarah showed me that she had been talking to boys in Orofino, just like Samantha. She said she really just wanted a boyfriend. I was probably a little rude about it. After asking Sarah a bunch of questions, I think I told her that it was stupid and forced. Though I was right in a way. Sarah was just trying to fill a void and she thought she would naturally like anyone she connected with – in hopes perhaps to be like Samantha.  It was wrong of me to put such a negative spin on things however. It is so easy for me to downgrade other people. I am in the gray area between sexual and asexual, and from my personal perspective, it has never dawned on me to go out looking for a boyfriend, the way you might go out looking for a car or a breakfast. It comes to you or it doesn't, and when it doesn't I don't think about it. Which isn't the way it is for other people. Other people have this void and an instinct to be in a relationship. The same goes for me and having babies. I have maybe felt the urge to procreate once, kinda. It was not very strong and seemed like a terrible idea so I ignored it and it went away. But other girls I meet, and I think guys have their own urge, will just want kids. I've learned not to judge people. I am the weird one.

The conversation she had with this 14-16 year old young male from Orofino Idaho was quite dull. He wouldn't stop sending her pictures of his chest in between dull conversation at the most inappropriate times.. They never talked about anything meaningful. Sarah went with Sam one weekend to meet this guy – it was the big day, I think his name was Phil or something, and as soon as Sarah saw him she was very sorry she had ever spoken to him. He was just terrible in every way, so I am told. She had to run away from him coldly but he just kept following her around trying to impress her the entire evening, asking for her phone number and such. But not in a romantic way. More like in an 'I want to get laid please, please, please look at my muscly chest I'm a man not a boy!' kind of way. When she came back to talk to me about it, I sort of smirked that I had told her so.

Meanwhile, Orlando Bloom got the lead role in Pirates of the Caribbean and the first movie was out for the summer. I was not convinced it was going to be any good at all, but Ava was of course ecstatic to see her beloved Orlando once more. Soon she had printed out several pictures of him in his seafaring get up and had them all over her purple walls. We went to see it together one time and I was quite right by my estimation to assume the worst. I was hoping Johnny Depp would save it, but I gotta say, I absolutely hate Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. He grosses me out. To this day, I really do not like the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise and I have avoided them ever since. Ava took me with her to see that movie in theaters four times. And she went over ten times just by herself.

I ended up we going to Ava's house many times that summer, despite the dangers of her moods or her mother's moods and the miles and miles of pale yellow nothing that stretched on wards into the dull sky. Sometimes her mom would randomly get angry for no reason and drive me back to Kendrick. But then I would be invited back up the next day – there was never and explanation other than I think it was some kind of empty battle for control and I was but a pawn on that board. Ava and I would go swimming in her pond. It was so full of catfish they were swimming all over one another at the bottom. And the water was slimy. Honestly, I don't recommend swimming in stagnant pools of catfish in 100 degrees. The bottom was this pure fowl mush of god only knows what and it felt so gross squishing between your toes. If you stayed in one place for any length of time, the catfish would swarm all over you and just start nibbling on you. I remember one time Ava decided to just sit in the pond and see what the catfish would do to her skin. When she got out of the pond, her entire leg was red from the biting.

Certain friends I have had in my life I have gone to for some stability – instinctively as I don't consciously think about it most of the time, and there are friends that – when I am with I end up unleashing terrible things that lurk in my nature that never come out generally. Ava was the latter type of comrade. That summer, I did some unthinkably cruel to one of the catfish that we caught. To my credit, I had been told growing up that fish don't have feelings and so I had the impression that the fish was essentially not alive by my definition. Plus, I used to eat meat, so it's a slipperly slope when you look at the life of an animal's value when you are in the business of making some of them your meal. I know now that fish can feel. I am a vegan now, and when I think about this stuff, I just make a mental note that I will never tell other vegans I meet in life about my former self.

Ava and caught this catfish, and we wanted to see what it's insides looked like. We took the fish up to one of her barns. We cut open it's belly, and we named it The Colonel. Because I kept calling him a trooper, on account that, we had his entire innards on display, but he still was desperately trying to breath. The thing is about catfish, they are very hearty creatures. They can live without water for a certain period of time. They can survive in muck. We pulled out it's lungs, inspected its stomach, took out it's intestines. Absentmindedly I grabbed it's bladder in my fingers, and popped it. When I did this, yellow stuff went everywhere. It was so freaking sick. The poor thing stayed alive too. Eventually Ava and I started feeling weird about the fact that it was alive, as we took out it's beating heart and felt it in our hands. It was so strange to feel this little being heart pumping still. I freaked out and Ava and I decided to squash the poor fish, just to put it out of it's misery. We both had pushed each other into doing it – feeding off of some innate cruelty that we both possessed, and now we both felt badly. We decided not to tell anyone about what we had done.

Probably the most prominent component of that summer though, something I rarely like talking about due to embarrassment, is my complete and total adoration for bands like Good Charlotte and Simple Plan. I fucking loved Good Charlotte in particular. I owned both their albums at the time. Planned on getting a tattoo. When I turned eighteen I swore I would start a band just so our band could tour with their band, and then maybe, just maybe I could hook up with one of them. And at first, I was obsessed with the main singer  - Joel. But then as the summer progressed, I realized that I was actually in love with Benji – his punkier twin brother. Both had these awful nasally voices – just thinking of it now as the person I am, I used to really feel their songs and everything and it's just cringy.

Why did anyone like Good Charlotte so much? Why was I so obsessed? They were the absolute worst. I think in a way, Joel Madden was like a surrogate to Kyle in my subconscious. Kyle vaguely looked like Joel Madden, and then I moved over to Benji at some point since he had a better smile and seemed edgier. I was convinced that I was going to marry Benji someday. I was really invested. I saw my life as a series of steps to get to that point. I seemed to overlook the fact that there were tens of thousands of girls in their own bedrooms fantasizing about the day that Benji and they would wed. So many girls named babexforxbenji and various monikers online.

I thought about Good Charlotte about half the time honestly, how awesomely attractive they were, how cool and free they were. In my limited understanding of teen rebellion, Good Charlotte was really pushin' the envelope as to how rebellious a person could be – their gimicky image was as far as my small little perspective could comprehend. In my mind, they represented everything I wanted to be. This of course, is exactly what the marketers in some board room in a sky scraper somewhere wanted me to feel. They took the elements of punk that were genuine, and they put it on a boy band – essentially – but really it was just fratboy music. I believed they stuck up for the 'me's' in the world, and I bought every single poster of Good Charlotte that was out. And I bought every single teen magazine that was available at the little grocery store downtown, just to get little clippings of them, and sometimes they sold these small posters in the teen magazines.

I covered my walls with them. Above my bed, I took the clippings of every lame pop punk band that was in these magazines, and I taped it to my wall. It was the most teenybopping wall collage there ever was and as I had moved rooms again, I took a room that had twelve foot ceilings. The early 00's teenybopper collage almost reached up that high. I wished that I had taken just one picture. It had Ashton Kutcher here and there. Blink 182. Green Day. Evanescence, All of 13 ½ year old Renee's favorites. There was one very special picture of Benji though that I kept in my pocket at all times. It was my absolute favorite. I would take it out and look at it so much that the crinkles had almost made the picture disappear. And I tell you this now, not because I am proud. But this was who I was – a necessary part of my development I suppose. Faultlessly, my father thought it was ridiculous, but since it really wasn't ruining the wall in any way, he let it be and didn't actually make me feel too bad about it.

I was staying the night at Ava's house, and she decided that we were going to go on fake dates with Benji and Orlando. She dressed me up as a pop punk school girl, and herself in something else – I don't remember what, and then she took a photograph of us in our outfits. There is a part of me that wants to talk to her on facebook and ask her if she still has that photo. Half of me wants to see it, and the other half would be relieved if it disappeared.

My father was horrible to me the summer of 03'. His relationship had not panned out as he had hoped, and he was listening to a lot of really angry conservative talk radio, Michael Savage was one of his favs and I think he was using that anger and his own personal sense of disappointment to somehow 'blame the liberals'. He talked on and on how women were what was wrong with America. He kept accusing me of being high when I would come home. I was too much in my Good Charlotte world to pay him any serious mind, but in these moments were actually really tense. He was living in some kind of hellish fury beneath the surface. He was TNT that wanted to explode and a lot of his aggression, having no one else to blame and seeing me bopping around, was aimed directly at me. If I was listening to music, he would come in and shut it off in a really aggressive manner that made me nervous. At random times, he would ground me, and there was never a clear reason for why.

He resented being used by Jodi, and so he decided that this all stemmed down to her being a woman. And he resented me because I was not a child anymore and didn't really have a lot of faith in him anymore. And now I was a woman, deserving of equal punishment. I didn't say anything out of line to him – I would have been too afraid for my well being to ever fight back at all. I was not the kind of teenager with outward mood swings. I wasn't snotty to him. I wasn't even allowed to cry in his presence, with the exception of a few things like an extreme injury or a rare occasion where it made sense to him. But he just knew I resented him and he was losing control of me, and that festered in his thoughts often. I could hear it behind the shouting of the radio when I walked passed. But I think more than anything, he had more resentment for himself. And since he had always put himself on a pedestal when I was young and impressionable, the concept that I had seen through the curtain at the confused and angry and ultimately forgivable human being that he really was made him hate himself a lot. He couldn't process his own guilt. All he knew was that I brought on a sense of self doubt that he had about himself, and without having the proper coping mechanisms, all he could think to do was smite me.

He seemed to actually hate himself a lot more than I ever did for that matter. And because I was consciously aware of him and had kept him accountable for his inconsistencies, I represented everything he hated about himself. If I could just not exist, then perhaps he could muffle out how weak and heartbroken he felt about his perceived failings. I think the idea of me forgiving him for flaws that he didn't even want me to know existed, that he had demonstrated before me made him even madder. If I am to be the forgiver, than in his eyes, I am the one in control – not him.

But honestly, I just wanted to have fun. I wasn't doing drugs. I just wanted to go swimming and read silly articles about boys in bands and tape them on my wall. I wasn't interested in his bank money, his relationship status.

And this goes to show something sort of crazy about the guy. He never has any interest in anyone around him unless they have something directly to offer him – or he can somehow relate. At his best, he is a curious person and if you peak his curiosity, he may under the right circumstances open up to a new idea to a limited degree. If he cannot, he assumes that the activities and ideas of that other person are pointless and a threat to civility in some fashion. Which is why he resented philosophers and people of that nature. If there is one or two writers that he did like, such as Steinbeck or Carl Sagan – they instantly were claimed as somehow owned by him. Me being as divergent as I am had already become a major issue for him.

One of the things that he made this really outlandishly crazy deal about were the clothes pins that held up our clothes out on the line to dry. He became obsessed with the fact that I pulled the pins violently off the line when I didn't. I put them on in a way that he thought looked like I had pulled them, but I was very delicate. In fact, I thought I was doing a good job. This was actually because I was snapping them on in a certain way (I will not go into detail about the physics behind this very mundane task), and he was insistent that I was ripping my clothes off the line nonetheless. He grounded me for a week. It ruined a bunch of plans I had with my friends. And in that time, I tried even harder to make the pins right, which only made them look in his eyes like I had pulled them. He said I would have to be grounded all summer. I cried and pleaded with him to actually go out there with me so I could show him what I was doing. I tried to be reasonable. But in his mind, I was just as bad as Maria or Roxanne. I was just as bad as my mother, or Jodi. And he was going to teach all of them a lesson by teaching me a lesson.

It took me three weeks, but I finally figured out what he was seeing that made him think I was pulling the clothing. This entire thing was pitifully stupid, because for one, he was not able to ground me when he wasn't there eighty percent of the time to enforce it. And also, wooden clothes pins are cheap. And why would I have ruined my own summer just to pull my clothes off the line? I eventually became consciously aware of how it was I was putting them on the line, and it connected to how I was kind of shorter than the line. So I was finally able to put them the way he liked, by compensating for my reach. I don't believe he ever believed me though. In the mean time, July had passed and I had spent half of it angry in my room feeling wrongly accused by the unstable psycho in the kitchen chiming on to Michael Savage on conservative talk radio.

The biggest battle was about my income. I felt incredibly used by both my dad and my mom when it came to babysitting. I had never asked for any money in return for the time I spent. Sure, Allison and David were easy to babysit – sometimes. But this still meant that I missed out on a lot of fun. There were a lot of things I could never go out and do. They both had to work and they couldn't help that. I could hardly fault them for this, but their working was ironically their excuse to not pay me one cent. This setup that had been going on for two years then meant that I really only had the freedom to go out and about twice a week and all of the days I could have gone out in July had been taken by the clothes pin deal. I felt it was unfair that I was not allowed any compensation for my time. So I formed some courage, and I asked my dad if he would pay me for babysitting. He yelled at me and told me that it was my mom's job to pay me since she had bailed on me, not him, but I reminded him that two of those days were days where I was under his custody. This made him fly into a rage. He called me disgusting and a spoiled fucking brat that he was sorry he ever had. He made it sound like my request was absurd. What was the amount I was asking for? Three dollars a week. A laughable price even then.

I just wanted to be able to buy music, or maybe a blue Pepsi (that was a drink back in those days and it tasted like cotton candy). I had never been allowed to have any money at all. I remember asking my father for five cents once, and he had turned me down. This was one of the first times that I actually talked back to him. He threw a huge fit over it which devolved into him screaming at me in the corner as I held myself crying. This was absolutely insane, which, especially as an adult now, I know it could not have been the amount I was asking for at all. I thought I was being reasonable. He spent 500$ on Jodi's Christmas present alone. His income was 18$ an hour and that was even more when you consider inflation since 03'. He could afford paying me twelve dollars a month. If I had gone through his wallet and stolen it, he would never have known. No, what he wanted was mindless subservience of a dog. He was angry that I had even developed enough self esteem to consider what I asked for and he was attempting to beat that self esteem out of me.

To give him some credit, he must have thought about what I had asked more than it had seemed initially. By the end of the summer, he bought me a box from Ross that was 20$ that he thought would fit all my drawings into. He told me that this was what he was giving me in compensation for the babysitting of the previous two years. I accepted it. I didn't ever think  he was going to pay me for previous years of babysitting, so there was no harm in accepting this. He also told me, as we were in the car, that he was going to pay me 20$ every three weeks, which was a lot more than what I had asked for. I was very happy about this. And I didn't end up spending almost any of that money. It just grew over time in the credit union. So in a way, I did win. It wasn't what I deserved, but it was a huge improvement from what I had.

I will concede one thing for my dad that summer though. Later that summer, we got in another fight. I don't remember what it was about, but I remember sitting in my room feeling furious and resentful, him two rooms away in the kitchen. (Oh this is embarrassing). In order to let him know how I felt, I decided to listen to 'Perfect' by Simple Plan over and over again. It's a barely listenable tune. It's essentially a pop punk song to the singer's dad. I put it in my fancy cd changer that I had gotten as my main gift for Christmas, and I let it go on as loud as it could go, on repeat. It played twelve times in a row, ringing through the house. I honestly thought the song was that powerful I guess at the time. In that fight, I might have been right. But if my dad ever had a good reason to strangle me to death, that would have been the time. And he didn't, and he must have known. I mean, when you hear a song like that you cannot ignore it, try as you may to.

PART 26 - http://tinyurl.com/y73nvl73

PART 25 -  http://tinyurl.com/y6v6pgoj

PART 24 - http://tinyurl.com/ycak5d8r

PART 23 - http://tinyurl.com/yac6sk3g

PART 22 -  http://tinyurl.com/yat6cfnw

PART 21 -  http://tinyurl.com/y783egno

PART 20 - http://tinyurl.com/y8jskymt

PART 19 - http://tinyurl.com/rfhbms8

PART 18 - http://tinyurl.com/ycrznrwk

PART 17 - http://tinyurl.com/y77unlng

PART 16 - http://tinyurl.com/yadpsv8c

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw  

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

Eastern Delivery 2 Hijokaidan: [No Paris/No Harm +1 NOISE] REMASTERED EDITION (1988 / 2014) (Japanese Import) Reviewed format: CD Album reissue on réveil / Alchemy RECORDS Additional release identifiers: ALCHEMY RECORDS SPECIAL EDITION SERIES (24) / Hijokaidan 07 Welcome to the second review in the Eastern Delivery series in which today I'm looking at the next available album by legendary Japanese Noise band Hijokaidan as a REMASTERED EDITION in the ALCHEMY RECORDS SPECIAL EDITION series. That is the album No Paris/No Harm which I have here in the 2014 REMASTERED reissue by réveil / Alchemy RECORDS with the reissue title [No Paris/No Harm +1 NOISE] REMASTERED EDITION. This 3 track album was originally released on Alchemy in 1988 and as the title identifies is accompanied here by a nice bonus track (the +1 NOISE track) which in this case consists of a track taken from a much later released extreme music compilation but which fits the album's original track rather well in style. The packaging of this reissue follows the same style as the previous album I reviewed in that it has the same kind of general layout. The obi strip features the general black background style of the album reissue series, but this time with identifiers for No Paris/No Harm, the catalogue number, series numbers, title etc. So the obi strip follows the series design style, making for a neat consistency in the spines when you line the various album up next to eachother. The front cover shows JUNKO of Hijokaidan (who does some very energetic screechy screaming vocal performances on this album) in a purple tinted monochrome colour as well as an old version of the Alchemy Records logo hand drawn together with the identical catalogue number (of this release). The title, which is strangely enough written as "IN PARIS NO HARM" is also overlaid as hand-drawn graffiti letters on JUNKO's face, like a tattoo. On the back we have the tracklist in similar layout to the other Hijokaidan album reissue, though matching with the purple colour of the album cover, the background of is purple instead of black and the titles are alligned to the left. Other than that, it's pretty much the same layout as the other reissue containing the tracklist as well as total time and release details in Japanese which also feature the release date, copyright and publishing years of the music as well as label, CD and distribution company logos. The usual Japanese style details. Inside the white jewelcase housing the CD you can find a two page booklet which, just like Viva Angel features the album cover on the front page, on the left page inside of the booklet you can find the tracklist and on the right page are the album reissue credits as well as some additional info in Japanese. The booklet isn't purple on the inside, instead resorting to a more minimalist "info sheet" style plain black on white. It doesn't spoil the packaging design however as the booklet's lay out is in sync with the rest of the series and the printing quality is great, again making for a quality execution of this reissue. On the back page of the booklet you can find the original back cover of the Vinyl LP version of No Paris/No Harm adapted to match the contents of this CD reissue, including the 4th (bonus) track alongside the 3 original album tracks (which are listed in their original division between side A and B of the vinyl LP, though the numbers are adjusted to the CD version). The BONUS TRACK is listed underneath in smaller letters, in the same typeface used on the back of the jewelcase. Just like the front cover, everything is layered on top of a purple coloured background. Besides the tracklist you can find two additional photos and the original album credits, again handwritten, as well as label and distribution company logos and distribution info. The CD itself usese the same black design as Viva Angel but the text is now adjusted to the No Paris/No Harm album and have pinkish kind of purple colour instead of the white of Viva Angel. It all looks really neat combined together and while the packaging is pretty simple, there's a good quality standard and nice attention to detail. Now onto the music on No Paris/No Harm. On this album Hijokaidan is featured as a trio made up of JOJO creating (guitar) noise JUNKO, JOJO doing screamed vocals and T. MIKAWA on (electronic) noise and effects. The first two of the three original album tracks (HARLEM and VIVRE SA VIE) are studio recordings while track 3 NO HARM (on the original vinyl LP B-side) is a live recording (which is edited with a fade-out, so there's no audible audience sounds). The BONUS TRACK 4 Random Canoe Inspection is taken from a compilation CD titled "Extreme Music From Japan" from 1994. 6 years later than this album, but a fitting bonus track as we will see. It's unclear if JUNKO's featured on vocals on the bonus track however as the piece is quite harsh and "wall" like Noise in which the sounds are quite blended together. No Paris/No Harm in form of this reissued CD is quite a bit shorter than the lengthy Viva Angel reissue that almost maxed out the standard CD format with its 76:11 playing time, as it's a more average length 42:23 (including the bonus track). We find Hijokaidan in high energy mode here however, though more in a physical fiery kind of energy this time as the 4 tracks are a bit more simple in terms of Noise created than Viva Angel but there's definitely a lot of intense feeling coming out of this album. First track Harlem is definitely one of the most intense pieces on the album from the start. It features JOJO and T. MIKAWA doing a wild mixture of free improv flanged guitar Noise shredding mixed with crumbling crunchy and bassy noise. JUNKO's doing some insanely wild screaming vocals on here, full of energy and at many times making screechy harsh sounds with her voice, mimicking and accompanying the Noise with sounds that are often equally as harsh. She's also often repeating certain phrases of sounding in a hypnotic manner, making for a great and especially wild but not forced sounding vocal performance on the piece. The noise on this piece is, as mentioned quite a bit more free improv styled, with the main crunchy noise changing more gradually, while JOJO's mixing dissonant distortion with wildly varying guitar tones, feedback and various guitar effects and artifacts. I like how near the end the piece's elements are subtly reduced until the end, with the low end of the Noise ending and the focus of the piece shifting more towards the guitar Noise and JUNKO's wild focus. Adds a great evolving kind of variation to the piece and there's some great feedback laden screeches in that section as well, very wild, but still recognizable guitar sounds through the distortion. Very intense. Next track Vivre Sa Vie is a more minimalist, almost Shoegaze like continues Noise drone of hissy distorted sound that features a curious intriguing mixture of tones that make it feel almost like there's traces of a Folk song or another kind of traditional music seeping through. JUNKO's vocals are much calmer here and she's mostly repeating a percussive pattern, almost like a drum rhythm she's creating. Both elements combined form a great entrancing wall of resonant Noise in which the guitar overtones add a great original element to the mix and invitation to deep listen into this piece as well. The third and last track of the original album is No Harm, which is the track recorded live. It features some of the harshest Noise action on the album and there's more variation in the performances of the Noise as well. The noise features a lot more ear piercing feedback to it, pulsations, filtering, ground hum, and stuttering effects and an at many times very penetrating harsh crunch to it, very in your face. JUNKO's vocals are equally crazy and while they're in fact not much crazier than on Harlem, combined with the noise it does make for a very extreme intense experience. Harsh material, but very exciting. Then, the final track of this reissue, the BONUS TRACK Random Canoe Inspection presents us with a very hissy, almost white noise like wall of Noise that is very dense and packed with may distorted sounds, feedback, vocals and effects. It does feel a bit different from the album tracks in that there's less seperation of the layers in this piece, but the crunch and physical fiery energy definitely do match the original album. This is definitely the kind of Noise that is mostly a physical punching experience, floating straight in front of you like an extremely unstable crumbling concrete wall, but the audible details like the spooky weird vocal sounds make it a great deep listening experience too. Indeed, even with this much distortion and harshness, Hijokaidan proves again that there can be a lot of layers and development in Harsh Noise too. A great closing piece of this intense enjoyable physical listening experience of an album. All in all, [No Paris/No Harm +1 NOISE] REMASTERED EDITION is again a great entry in the Hijokaidan part of the ALCHEMY RECORDS SPECIAL EDITION series featuring quality remastering supervised by JOJO and a nicely restored album package. The album is more of a fiery physical listening experience than the at times calmer Viva Angel, but still packs a lot of details and noise fluctuations in the inspired performances by the trio. The short, to the point length also makes this a great listen if you're looking for a more compact album of Harsh Noise that's not just a wall of continuous crunch but also has plenty of other musical elements within it, like the free improv shredding in Harlem, the Shoegaze like guitar noise in Vivre Sa Vie and the ghostly voices in the BONUS TRACK Random Canoe Inspection. JUNKO's at times shrieking harsh vocals are not for everyone however and if you're not into this vocal style this might not be the best start if you want to get into Hijokaidan's discography, but if you can get into the energy of the vocals it's a very captivating, energetic, fiery and in my opinion fun listening experience. Recommended for Harsh Noise fans, Japanese Noise fans and anyone looking for a compact dive into experimental guitar noise and screamed vocal improvisations. Go check this out. I’ve imported this Japanese edition through the cdjapan store, please refer to the site for pricing and payment options for your country. You can find the release here: http://www.cdjapan.co.jp/product/TECH-25397?s_ssid=e43d35cc365d2828a

Back Rank Mate : A checkmate that occurs when your king is trapped behind a wall (usually a wall of your own pawns) on the back rank, and a queen or rook attacks on the back rank.

You know, I think I’m just going to reiterate my thoughts from last week – OMGWTFBBQPURPLEMONKEYDISHWASHER. What the heck is this show doing to me? All I know is that if I was to exist in the Promised Neverland universe, I would be pretty safe since this show has melted my brain. Hyperbole you think… maybe a smidge.

Still, I am grateful that Crow is here to keep me from completely losing it and you’re grateful too. Trust me. He makes these posts! Also, let me apologize in advance for this but I took an unreasonable number of screencaps again. If this post has been loading for  minutes…that’s why… sowwy…

But before we get started, how are you Crow?

Well, for starters, I’m bold this week! And for another, there’s no way I’m getting through this review without dropping some spoilers, so everyone beware!

Come to think of it, “everyone beware” is pretty good advice for anyone watching this show! Purple monkey indeed!

everything’s fine!

I’m just trying a little small talk to ease us in because this week got heavy! Unlike the usual light hearted slice of life comedy The Promised Neverland usually is….

This level of removal from reality is a different perspective for you! Looks like the show’s getting to you — and I certainly understand why!

If you’ve read our reviews before you know this, but it’s spoileriffic. If you don’t want to know what happens, please come back after you’ve watched episode 9.

oh no! not spoilers!!!

Last week ended on a double whammy courtesy of Moma as she broke the leg of one of her beloved daughters without hesitation, while gently announcing the execution of a beloved son. And this week brought us straight back to that devastating scene adding a few new details to the mix. I must say the impact was not lessened by repetition!

Just in case the show didn’t twist the knife quite enough last week!

If last week it dawned on me just how outmatched the kids were, this week the kids are starting to really realize it as well, and it’s heartbreaking. Don and Gilda were being held together by the other three but now that they’re seeing them unravel, they are left rudderless and very very scared. The juxtaposition of the bright sunny day and soft green grass, and the dire straits the kids are in made everything just a little sadder, don’t you think?

The imagery was great — it was almost taunting our heroes with a false normalcy.

the ephemeral nature of life is both tragic and beautiful 

The scene went from Don, Gilda and Ray barely holding it together to a cool and composed Norman sweetly comforting Emma. I thought “this child is terrifying”. The composure…the strength. The sheer loyalty to Emma that he would consider his own life immaterial as long as she’s fine. Honestly Norman is one impressive young man.

Did you see what Emma did the instant she woke up? She reached for him. That gesture was heartbreaking in its simplicity; in the trust it implied.

I saw – I screencapped

And then, his mask slipped. When finally alone, it became apparent that Norman was far from fine. He was horrified and lost. He did not want to lose his life. All of this was shown in a quiet patient scene. The emphasis and emotion expressed through long shots of nothing much. The lack of motion letting the emotion shine through rather than any overt display. I quite like that! So it turned out that Norman was just pretending for the sake of his friends. And I thought, Norman is a supremely impressive young man!

You could see the moment his will snapped. He had been pushed past what he knew he could handle, and he was faced with the question: What next?

While Norman was trying to calm himself, we jumped back to Ray who was by far the most agitated we’ve ever seen him. Ray seemed to accept his own potential demise with bitter but stoic resignation. However, the thought of Norman getting shipped out has gotten hm enraged and panicked. For a second, I thought it was a mix of feelings for his friend and of the discomfort of having his plans ruined. I thought Ray was intimidatingly impressive.

The sight of Ray, who for so long had plotted and planned and executed, coming to grips with the idea that not only were his plans ruined, but his understanding of their world was flawed to the point where he had no idea what to do. And still, after venting a bit, he started to rein himself in. These are pretty impressive kids! I’m pretty sure I wasn’t that composed (or intelligent or — thank heavens — tasty to demons!) at their age.

Ray was my rock…this shattered me

Having come back to his senses a bit, Norman decided to rejoin Emma. Did you notice the CG Crow? Of course you did, it was pretty obvious. And I think that was on purpose. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure the CG has been used as a narrative tool in this series.

The CG was only used in the scenes of Norman walking the hallway alone, even though we saw extremely similar scenes of Ray, Don or Guilda. And even though the CG was obvious, it wasn’t excessive. I think the slight uncanny dissonance, plus the impact on the character’s movement was used to make those simple scenes of Norman just walking that much more weighty and uneasy. I may be reading too much into this…

It reminded me a little bit of some of the photographic effects Alfred Hitchcock would use him his films. This show is very much in that tradition!

ok, still images don’t give you the right idea

We then got another classic scene of three small kids talking in a bedroom. This is 98% of the show and it’s still giving me anxiety.

I’m sure the conversation was littered with clues and foreshadowing but quite unlike myself, I couldn’t pay attention to that. I was actually too emotionally invested. Weird huh?

I appreciated this quiet scene, because it helped me process everything we’ve learned in the last 30 or 40 minutes of storytelling!

Emma and Ray have decided that Norman getting shipped out was simply not an option and came up with a simple but promising plan. Norman should disable his tracking device and hide just beyond the wall until they can join him once Emma is healed up. At this point Ray explained some simple gut-wrenching facts. The children are afforded a comfortable happy life because they’ll taste better that way. That’s all.

As Ray was talking and Norman seemed dubious I started to wonder why did Ray seem so desperate for Norman to live? He was the one saying that saving everyone was impractical. Their plan is riddled with potential pitfalls and unknowns. Ray of all people should accept Norman’s willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. And when Ray cried out, “If you die then what were the last 6 years of my life for?”, I realized something.

Ray has a bad poker face

Ray isn’t the cool and composed mastermind he makes himself out to be. This boy who since the age of five has patiently collected trinkets to create a disarming device all on his own without anyone noticing. This boy was a bleeding heart hero type. He may not be able to save everyone, but he needs to save his friends at least. How cute and innocent. How naive to think you can just throw them out there. This is why he had to accept Norman’s argument that should he escape neither Emma or Ray would be taken in his stead and sacrificing another for your own life is unbearable. Because he’s just a kid who loves his friends, that’s all. Ray is truly and undeniably impressive.

Have you noticed how easy it is to be stoic on behalf of someone? I’m borderline competent on my own. On behalf of my family or friends? I can be quite a different person, or I can at least seem that way. I see that in Ray, and in how Ray reacted when Norman was trying to give himself up. The walls just come tumbling down!

I have but then again, I’ve never been in a situation where I really thought I could die. Maybe survival instinct would kick in..

Just when all that panic, fear and loathing cam crashing together, that’s when Emma decided to be Emma and do what she does best. Just smother everything in powerful optimism backed up by short sighted but surprisingly rational propositions. Break Ray’s arm. If they’re both hurt, then they won’t be replacements – Norman can escape with his mind at ease. This emotional release allowed the kids to get back to themselves a bit. A nice little reprieve.

and just Norman

I couldn’t help but wonder – won’t Gilda or Don be chosen then??? It seems that wasn’t too much of a concern to the others.

They needed a little short-sightedness to keep themselves together, I think. I also wonder if either Don or Gilda would be considered a real replacement? If Emma, Norman, and Ray are prime grade, Don and Gilda would likely be choice. Still a fine grade, but not interchangeable. Maybe. I’m feeling strange talking about our heroes as grades of beef…

Say Crow, any thoughts about the fact that Ray knew right from the start? I think that may be better, since you don’t lose anything? Then again, maybe not.

The show’s doing such a good job at presenting Ray as a complex character that honestly, I’m not sure! It certainly could be!

there was tons of Norman in this episode, really!!!

The next day, Norman’s escape plan is ready to go. They have a new rope, a last hide and seek game, everyone knows their part. Momma informs the entire house that Norman is going to be “adopted”. First – darn you Phil! Second – some of those kids were crying a little more than justified, don’t you think. Maybe Emma and co. aren’t the only ones to know the houses secret?

I had that impression, too — especially that one little girl Norman had to hug!

um..it’s going to be…”o.k.”?

That was an exciting scene. Much like the rest of the episode, it used quick cuts beween the main characters as we saw Norman making his way to the wall and finally climbing it, while Emma and Ray are simply waiting back at the house. It got my blood pumping! And those colours were stunning.

Did you see the looks the kids were giving Isabella? Chilling!

As evening set in and the kids were getting ready to go in for dinner, I was actually holding my breath a little. And then, Norman just slowly walked back. After which, we finally find out what’s behind that wall. Talk about a cliffhanger!!!!

I see what you did there!

oh my

When we first see Norman climb to the top and look out, were you afraid we weren’t going to find out what he saw? I was all like, “Oh, no, Promised Neverland! Don’t you dare make me guess!”

And then we found out.

It might have been better had they made me guess!

And did you notice how self-satisfied Momma looked? Of course she knew what was beyond the walls. Of course she could guess what Norman’s reaction would be! Just another sign of her supreme control over the situation.

Krone who?

By the way, we saw Norman discover Krone’s pen and box in a drawer, but once again they didn’t show us what was in it. ARGH!!!

So this is Norman’s last day. Their plans are in ruins; their emergency plans are in ruins; and Phil is still smiling way too much. I have no idea how they’re going to get out of this, and honestly, I don’t want to guess! The show is doing a delightful job of entertaining me, and I don’t want to get in its way.

Irina, what’d you think of the music in this episode?

I’ll be honest I didn’t notice it. My mind got kidnapped by the plot. But tell me about it!

shhhs Phil

Starting just after Norman’s will crumbled , a simple piano melody starts playing. The camera switches to Ray, but the melancholy song continues and underlines their desperation — that begins to harden into resolve.

It’s a simple tune that lets the acting speak for itself. It ends when Norman enters and sees Ray and Emma’s serious expressions.

Later, as Norman’s running for the wall, there’s a more upbeat, drum-driven song with a woman’s beautiful voice harmonizing — no words. Emma and Ray try to stay calm, but the almost pop beat is more to support Norman’s spring to the wall than their attempt at patience. The woman’s voice disappears until Normal reaches the wall and makes it to the top. The crescendo? When he stands, shocked into silence, at what he sees on the other side of the wall. The music disappears, too.

The inarticulate voice lent an air of desperation that I recognized only in retrospect — when se see Norman’s shattered expression at the end.

whoa! I need to rewatch this episode…if I can

This show, man…..

The Promised Neverland Episode 1

The Promised Neverland Episode 2

The Promised Neverland Episode 3

The Promised Neverland Episode 4

The Promised Neverland Episode 5

The Promised Neverland Episode 6

The Promised Neverland Episode 7

The Promised Neverland Episode 8

You know, when I get really engrossed in a show, I can’t stop taking screencaps…

      The Promised Neverland Episode 9 – Back Rank Mate Back Rank Mate : A checkmate that occurs when your king is trapped behind a wall (usually a wall of your own pawns) on the back rank, and a queen or rook attacks on the back rank. 2,408 more words