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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Chilling in Yiling

We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous.

He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu.

Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.

Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.

Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.

(more after the cut)

This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesn’t deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface. The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.

He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites.

A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.

Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma.

His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.

This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked. Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.

Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"

Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.

The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it.

Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it.

He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.

Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.

It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.

In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there.

Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother. This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about what’s really happening to be confused, but not surprised.

Do the Whumpty Whump

After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified)

Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman.

He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.

Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.

Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights. He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjing’s physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines.

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part.

They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.

Wen Chao thinks that he can’t haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.

This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats.

Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about. He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him.

Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages.

She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.

Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch. Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.

Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxian’s. This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.

He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.

While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.

Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.

They Say That Every Man Must Fall

Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.

I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released

You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly.

I’ve Been Dead Once

We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.

I hang around dying to be tortured You'll never be alone in the bone orchard

The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.

For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.

He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets. All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.

The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge.

He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)

The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man.

Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello

Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #wei wuxian #burial mounds #jiang cheng

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shimmershae · 3 years

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My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.

Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol. So. To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.

First things first. I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry. I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.

But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.

It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride. Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.

Cole! Dude! We hardly knew ya.

Not gonna lie. That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen. It says--”Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”

I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team. These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far. They really hook you in right away. At least IMHO.

I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?

Okay. Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever. Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.

I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other. It really speaks to each woman’s heart. Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.

Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong. But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses. You know. Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).

Aaron, Man. Or maybe I should say Angela. You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that. RIP, Buttons. You deserved better. I’m still traumatized.

Look at all the babies bonding. Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.

“My mom always comes back.” She damn well better. Those babies need her. Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.

Anyway. Poor RJ. He barely ever gets any lines, lol.

Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.

So. Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what? Hmm.

You know. Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol. Any building.

So much darkness so far this season. I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains. I just know it.

Where are all those stairs leading? Why am I thinking of Hitchcock? Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies? Probably.

Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight. Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.

Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh? Listen. These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.

All these horror movie tropes. Some of them are cheesy, yes. But I’m totally here for it.

LMAO. That’s it, Maggie. A good old punch in the nuts works every time.

Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

Negan is still Negan. Self-serving and looking out for number one. But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too. He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond? However thin? Is there.

I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive. This your plan, Angela?

Rosita and Carol! How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back? Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken? If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.

How much do I love all the girls working together? Gimps would never. They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.

Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.

Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did. Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting. Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?

Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm? No. Seriously. I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.

“Really? We’re just gonna go toward the screaming? Cool.” Hahaha. You know. Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan. Just saying. Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.

Poor Duncan. I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.

WTF does this show have against horses? Those poor creatures.

Kelly is totally me right now. I’d be freaking inconsolable.

Carol needed that hug. Thank you, Magna. From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.

Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife. Oh. Yeah. That’s exactly why.

Oh snap! Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not. God isn’t here anymore.” Cold as ice.

Judas. That the Reapers’ work. Or. Damn. Either way, that’s harsh.

Back to what Alden was saying. All these oprhaned children. Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies? That poor kid has had a rough go of it. Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.

Omigosh. There went Agatha. Terrible way to go. Right, Beatrice?

I’m sobbing. Carol with the horse. That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison. Melissa Mcbride? When she cries, I cry. Every effin’ time. Aaron being there just made it hurt more. But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.

Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation. I get Magna’s reasoning too. I do. But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.

Those babies know they’re eating horse. I could never.

That’s got to be a different Coco. She’s even smaller. But she’s gorgeous.

Fucking finally. Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them. It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now. It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons. My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time. So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.

Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna. She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?

Interesting place of refuge. A gutted church. A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it? Being reckless with sombody’s life...” Maggie. Maggie. Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.

But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back? That is the question. Or will he eventually Lucille himself?

That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there. Like agree with her or not, Maggie is literally left to rely on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.

Oh lawd. Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for. How excited am I not?

Dog better not be harmed or so help me.

Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.

Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?

“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.” Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer. Say it louder for those in the back. Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.

“There is love there. There is respect there. However, there’s also frustration...” You damn skippy. Friendships and human relationships are complex AF. Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO. That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.

I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.

Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time. It’s a girl thing.

Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes? Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe. And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her. Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman. Am I reaching too far, lol? Because sometimes I do that.

Anyway. This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed. I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall? I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.

There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far. I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that. Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it. My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not. Also? I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.

Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.

Until next episode.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #my heart

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 4 years

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All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Two - Beatrice and Bertrand make a Grave Error

The Baudelaire children usually didn’t go out on their own. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t trust them, but there had been several instances where they had to drop everything and immediately leave town, and Beatrice and Bertrand were absolutely terrified that one day their children would be too far away for them to pick up, and they’d end up separated, and then somehow the world would explode. But sometimes, if the kids were reasonably cautious, they could take a day to themselves.

Violet was sitting at the edge of the beach, tying back her hair. “Klaus, at what angle are the prevailing currents?”

Klaus pulled a book from the basket, reading aloud from the chart inside. Beside them, Sunny gnawed on a rock, gave it a glare, and then tossed it aside, reaching for one that wasn’t sandstone.

“Of course, we’ll need the right projectile.” Klaus said.

“That’s where Sunny comes in.” Violet said. “How you doing, sweetie?”

Sunny smiled and held up the stone, now perfectly flat. “Asill!” she called, meaning something akin to, “Ready!”

Violet pushed back the picnic basket, and stood, waving the rock in her hand.

“Excuse me, Violet,” Klaus said, “Why are you using your left hand?”

“I’m curious to see if I can throw as far with my left as I can with my right.”

“I thought this was to gather data, though.”

“My invention may need to differentiate between dominant and non-dominant hands.”

“I guess that’s true. Mark the rock.”

“Shit, I almost forgot.” Violet said. She knelt down, opening up the basket, and pulling out some chalk from underneath the canned food. “Here it is.” She drew a large X, and then stood up again and skipped. The three siblings watched as the rock tossed itself across the water and then, after Klaus called out nine skips, Violet handed him her ribbon and dove in.

Sunny cheered as the siblings were splashed. She loved getting wet and messy, though she knew it was a bad thing, as they only had a few clothes at a time. “Luto!” she cheered, meaning, “Get mud on us next!”

“Sunny, no.” Klaus sighed, pulling a dry shirt from the basket to wipe his glasses.

“Ye!” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Sunny, yes!”

Klaus replaced his glasses and looked back to the water, to see Violet emerging several feet away, her hair pressed against her face. She held up the rock, and called, “How far?”

“What?”

“How far?”

“What?”

Violet sighed and swam closer, eventually making her way back onto the sand, now dripping wet. “I said, ‘how far?’” She repeated, handing Klaus the rock.

“Oh.” Klaus considered, absent-mindedly pocketing the stone, and then told her his best guess.

“We’ll need exacts, of course,” Violet said, squeezing her hair, and then shaking like a dog. “We’ll need some kind of measuring device.” She took her ribbon from Klaus, tying her hair back again. “I need a measuring device. Portable and waterproof. Sunny-”

“Gack!” Sunny shouted, pointing ahead. “Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!”

The children looked up; the beach was, indeed, quite foggy, and up ahead, was some sort of figure moving towards them.

Violet immediately tensed up, and grabbed the basket, slamming it shut and flipping the lock. Klaus lifted Sunny, who leaned into his shoulder and squinted her small eyes.

“It only seems scary because of all the mist.” Klaus said.

Violet looked very carefully, and then instantly relaxed. She dropped the basket to the ground, and ran forwards.

“Mother! Father!”

Klaus’s face brightened, and he also ran with his big sister, lifting Sunny higher as she cheered. Out of the mist, Beatrice ran forwards, enveloping her daughter in a tight hug.

“Do we- Father!” Klaus squealed as Bertrand also hugged him, then decided to go the extra mile and spin him and Sunny around. Sunny laughed and threw up her arms as if they were on a ride, while Klaus just said, “Dad! Come on!”

“I assume this isn’t urgent, then?” Violet laughed, as Beatrice let her go and looked her over.

“No. Why are you all wet?”

“I jumped in the water to get a rock.”

“Well, okay. So long as your clothes dry-”

“These will be fine, they’re the right material.”

“Is it time to go already?” Klaus asked. “We only just stopped looking at fish and tide pools and just started skipping rocks.”

“Sorry, Klaus.” Bertrand said, putting him and Sunny down and straightening Sunny’s bonnet. “But the post office is closed for the weekend, which means we can get into the attic if we hurry before the custodians lock the doors.”

“Will Lemon Man send us a telegram?” Violet asked, in a sing-song voice; she’d come up with the half-rhyme when she was eight, to entertain Klaus.

“We hope so. His last message said he should be speaking soon.” Beatrice said, her face lighting up a little.

“And,” Bertrand smiled slightly, “When we get there, we have a surprise for you children.”

“Cake?” Sunny asked, excited.

“No, afraid not.” Bertrand laughed, and he took Klaus’s hand. “Come on, let’s hurry it up before we have to climb through the window.”

Beatrice creaked open the backdoor to the post office, peered inside, and then waved and went in. Violet followed cautiously, holding onto Sunny with one arm and Klaus’s hand with the other. Bertrand took up the rear, glancing behind them every now and again just to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

Violet remembered a few years ago- she’d had to have been ten or eleven- when they had been followed. Beatrice had quietly asked her if she recognized the man in the black hat behind them at the bookstore, and Violet realized he’d been a few tables away at the café, and Klaus muttered that he’d been at the same grocery store. Beatrice and Bertrand had taken them down several aisles of the shop they were in, zig-zagging best they could, before going out into the road, running wildly down several streets until they found a crowd, pushing through it, and then picking a well-populated spot to sleep- a homeless shelter, where thankfully nobody asked questions, and a nice lady taught Violet and Klaus how to play clapping games. But even then, Violet remembered a dread in the pit of her stomach, one that didn’t go away until they were three towns away, and the black-hat man made no further appearance, and Klaus had already forgotten the incident and almost ran away to chase a cat.

She hated that dread, and now she had two siblings to help her parents look after, one of whom had no sense of fear. But at least they weren’t completely helpless; Sunny was quite the biter, and though Klaus was a slower learner than her, he could hold his own in a fight at least long enough for backup to arrive. They could run, they could hide. And they were all on the lookout for followers, anyone they recognized too many times- or sometimes even specific people. Every now and again, Mother or Father would see something in the newspaper, and turn it around and point to someone and warn them that person was an enemy- either from VFD or against, it didn’t matter. They were an enemy to their parents, and therefore the children.

Beatrice directed them away from a room with some noise inside- probably a janitor, making sure everything was clean and locked up- and herded them towards a staircase. There, she signalled them several numbers with her hands- two, fifteen, twenty-seven. The stairs that creaked. Violet went up first, swiftly skipping the steps, while Klaus took a bit longer, watching to make sure Violet skipped the step before doing so himself. Even Sunny fell silent, which was very nice; it had taken them quite some time to convince her that, yes, she had to stop humming or crying or giggling when they needed to be quiet.

Beatrice finally pushed open the door to the attic, and peered in, lighting a candle that lay beside the door. The small room flickered with the dim light, and Violet’s eyes flickered, too, as she saw the old telegrams stored around them.

“These still work.” Beatrice nodded as Violet put Sunny down, reaching again for her ribbon. “Take one apart if you want, but leave at least one working, in case Lemony contacts us.”

“Loco?” Sunny asked, which meant something like, “He knows where we are?”

“He has a… general idea.” Bertrand explained, as Klaus put the basket by the wall and he closed the door. “We never tell anyone exactly where we are, Sunny.”

“But more importantly,” Beatrice knelt by the ground, and her children quickly sat around her, forming a circle with a space left for their father, “Our surprise. Are you ready?”

“Mother, of course we are.” Klaus tried to hide his smile.

“Enough with the theater kid reveal, just tell us.” Violet said.

Beatrice made a pouting face. “What? Too dramatic for you?”

“We’re not babies, Mom.”

“Dis,” Sunny said, which meant, “That’s offensive.”

“Shut up, Sunny, you wanna see, too.”

Bertrand sat inbetween his two youngest children, looking more excited than they were, and said, “Bea, dear, show them what we got.”

Beatrice smiled so, so brightly, and then she reached into her jacket pocket, and whipped out a deck of cards.

The Baudelaires immediately lost their minds.

“Holy shit!” Klaus shouted, forgetting that they should still be quiet and also that he probably shouldn’t swear in front of his parents.

“Oh my God!” Violet started bouncing up and down, a dazzling glee spread across her face. “Oh my God! You got some? We can have some? For a while?”

“Pok!” Sunny screamed, which meant something like, “You’ll teach me to play, right? You said you would!”

Beatrice also bounced slightly, dropping the pack onto the floor in front of Sunny, who immediately grabbed it and bit into the plastic wrap to open it. “Yes! There was some in the convenience store, and since it’s finally warm enough we could ditch one pack of matches, so we have room for these now!”

“I’ll deal!” Klaus took the cards from Sunny, while she continued to bite into the plastic. “What are we playing first?”

“Pesca!” Sunny said. “Go fish!”

“Or,” Beatrice took a card from Klaus, “I could show you some tricks!”

“Yes! Yes!” Violet cheered. She quickly turned to Sunny and said, “Mother’s card tricks are the best. She can make them disappear!”

Sunny gave her a look of disbelief. “Jan,” she said, which meant, “Yeah, right.”

“Well, Sunny,” Beatrice said, showing her the ace of hearts, “If you think so…” Then, with a swish of her hand, the card was gone.

Violet and Klaus clapped, while Bertrand laughed. Sunny, however, widened her eyes in shock, and then she let out a wail.

Beatrice’s face fell. “Oh, no, Sunny, look, I can bring it back!” She waved her hand, and the ace of hearts was in her hand again.

Sunny stopped crying, a look of amazement on her face. “Wow!” she clapped.

“Now,” Bertrand said, “I was thinking about Patience. Klaus, do you want to show Sunny how to play?”

Klaus nodded, spreading out the cards. “See, Sunny, here the symbols don’t matter, but the numbers and colors. You know what numbers to look for, right?”

“Dec!” Sunny said, which meant, “One through Ten!”

“Good. Then after Ten comes the Jack, the Queen, and the King. Now, can you remember them in descending order?”

“Toidi.” “Yes, Klaus, I’m not an idiot.”

Klaus spread out the cards, and they all spread out, calling out cards they thought they could play. This continued for quite some time, to the point where Beatrice had to light a second candle so they could keep playing, and Sunny had to make sure nobody saw her yawn and would make her go to bed.

“Who taught you how to play cards?” Violet asked, after a while.

“My foster mother.” Bertrand said. “Beatrice learned from…”

He trailed off, but Beatrice finished. “From my chaperone.”

They fell silent. Then, Klaus said, “Well, I bet they didn’t think that part of the game would be trying to keep an infant from eating the- Sunny, stop it!”

Sunny put down the queen of spades, huffing. That was enough to brighten the mood again, and Beatrice let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. “S-Sunny, please- please, they’re not food.”

“Doo,” Sunny said, which meant, “Everything’s food if you eat it.”

“Sunny.” Bertrand laughed.

“God, you’re going to be a disaster when you get older.” Violet giggled, placing a card down.

“Xis,” Sunny huffed, which meant something like, “No, I’m going to be the Queen, so bow to me, peasants.”

“Now, Sunny,” Bertrand chided, “That’s no way to talk to your loyal subjects.”

“Loyal my ass,” Violet snorted. “We’re throwing her down the garbage chute first chance we get. Too much dead weight.”

“Bapa!” “I’ll show you who’s dead weight!”

Sunny launched herself at Violet, barely shaking her balance. Violet, though, flopped on the ground, crying, “Oh no! The Queen has gone mad with power!”

“The Queen is attacking the Royal Scientist!” Klaus shouted, before picking Sunny up and waving her in the air. “Off with her head!”

“Viva la Revolución!” Violet cheered from the floor.

“Now, now,” Beatrice laughed, “Does the Empress have to step in?”

“No, the Empress can go make out with the Emperor.” Klaus said, as he tossed Sunny into the air and caught her again.

“Well, if you insist-” Bertrand said.

“Dad, no! Not in front of the baby!”

“I’m baby!” Sunny cheered, as Klaus tossed her again.

But before they could say any more, they heard a telegram machine start up.

Beatrice immediately leapt to her feet, rushing to the machine that was printing out a small paper for them. Bertrand froze, eyes wide.

“Lemon Man has sent us a telegram!” Klaus said.

Violet didn’t join in his laughter, though, instead inspecting her parents’ faces. Whenever she was present for the receiving of a telegram, her parents always had the same look, a mixture that took her several experiences to decipher. First, in their jumble of instant emotions, was an excitement- whether positive or negative depended on how much of a jam they were in, though her parents made sure that they were never in too much danger to begin with. Second was relief, because it meant Snicket knew where they were and could send them news, though it was always in code. Third was a fear, fear that this would be horrible news, or someone else’s message, telling them that Snicket had been captured and someone was coming for them. Last, and hardest to figure out- in fact, Violet only placed it now, as Beatrice returned with the paper, showing it to Bertrand, who took out a pen to help decode- was a longing. She wondered what the longing was for- for the life they’d left behind, or just for their friend. They’d always seemed very fond of Lemony, whenever they discussed him; they must have been incredibly close.

“He hasn’t used this code in a while.” Beatrice snorted. “Finally remembered it existed.”

“Yeah, he’s gotta stop using Sebald. Too wordy.” Bertrand said.

“First of all, that’s just how Lemony is.” Beatrice said. “Second, bold words coming from ‘attempting a botanical hybrid through the tuberous canopy, which should bring safety to fruition despite its dangers to our associates in utero.’”

“Hell, Bea, you still have that memorized?”

“I’m an actress, dear, memorization is my job.”

“Get a room!” Klaus said, rolling his eyes and bouncing Sunny on his lap, where she had started to eat her bonnet.

“You need any help with that, Mother?” Violet asked, peering over at her parents circling letters and scribbling them at the paper’s edge.

“Thank you, Vi, but I think we’ve got it.” Beatrice said. She got to the last sentence, and said, “Alright, let’s see what our silence knot has for us today.”

Her and Bertrand’s eyes widened, however, as they read the message, and Violet could see a flash of fear. Shit. That wasn’t good news.

“Mother? What does it say?” Klaus asked, his face falling. Slowly, Violet started to pick up the playing cards.

Beatrice scanned the note, as if hoping that it would say something different. Then, quietly, she read.

HURRY. YOU ARE IN DANGER. I CAN KEEP YOU SAFE BUT YOU MUST RETURN TO THE CITY. MAY BE ABLE TO CLEAR YOUR NAMES. BRING ALL ASSOCIATES. O IS NEARBY. -YSK

Violet knew “YSK” was Lemony’s way of signing off- Your Silence Knot, some kind of inside joke they shared- and she knew that O was one of the people they were running from- what was his name again? Omar? But it didn’t matter what she knew; the message chilled her.

“The city?” Klaus’s voice grew quiet. “You said that’s where we were running from.”

“We shouldn’t be there.” Violet said.

Beatrice shut her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Bertrand was the first one to respond. “Children, we trust Lemony more than anyone else on this planet- except you, of course. If he says…” he trailed off. “God, this is risky.”

“He wouldn’t ask us to do it if it wasn’t important.” Beatrice whimpered- the children had never known their mother to whimper.

“Are we sure it’s him?”

“Nobody else would sign off with YSK, or know our location.”

“How can Olaf be nearby?” Olaf, that was it!

“Which one is Olaf again?” Klaus asked.

Bertrand drew in a sharp breath. Beatrice shook slightly, and said, “He’s… he’s the one we wronged.”

Violet and Klaus went pale, while Sunny just looked up in confusion. “Whazzit?” she asked, but nobody responded.

“Are you… gonna tell us what happened?” Klaus prodded, and Violet elbowed him.

“We… we can discuss that when we’re safe.” Beatrice said. “We’ll have to move quickly. If we catch a train tonight, we should be there by morning.”

“Do you have money?”

“I have enough. We can put Sunny in the basket if someone wears an extra jacket, so we don’t have to pay for her ticket.”

“Sure.” Sunny nodded, excited to do some sneaking.

“Should we really bring the children?” Beatrice asked, glancing towards them.

“Lemony said to bring all associates. Who else could he mean? He must have some kind of plan, right?”

“Maybe he wants us to invite the designated safe people.”

“It would take a while for all your safehouse peeps to show up.” Violet mentioned. Their parents had them all memorize the addresses of places to go if they got separated, but she doubted Lemony would know which houses they were- or, indeed, if the people living there knew they were a safehouse.

Beatrice glanced back down at the telegram, running her hand over the message. Then, quietly, she said, “Do you think he could really clear our names?”

Bertrand met her gaze, and they were clearly asking the same question- do we want him to?

“So,” Violet interrupted, knowing her parents were thinking terrible things and not wanting that to continue for much longer, “Does this mean we get to meet our mysterious Lemony man?”

Beatrice and Bertrand each took a deep breath, and then Bertrand said, “Yes.”

Klaus smiled brightly, and he picked up Sunny. “What are we waiting for, then?”

Beatrice grabbed her husband’s hand, and as the children ran to get all their bags and make sure they had everything, she whispered, “We’re seeing him again.”

“We’re seeing him again.” Bertrand repeated, his voice just as full of hope as hers.

#asoue #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #asoue au #runaway baudelaires au #asoue fanfiction #mine #my fanfic #the bad beginning #all those things they couldn't say

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Training Day Moment That Won Denzel Washington an Oscar

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In Training Day, Denzel Washington’s undercover detective Alonzo Harris is playing the long game, and edging both sides against the middle. “This shit’s chess, it ain’t checkers,” he explains to Jake Hoyt (Ethan Hawke), the rookie cop being led down the road to perdition. As another Denzel copper learned in the 1998 Satanic thriller Fallen, the devil often appears in the least likely of guises. For Training Day, Washington plays against type to lay out the temptations of easy money and real, street legal power. Alonzo may not have nabbed Jake’s soul with his opening gambit, but he walked away with an Oscar thanks to this scene.

Throughout the movie, Alonzo maneuvered his impressionable trainee into a place of rage which was both personal and professional. Before the movie begins, Alonzo was given 24 hours to deliver a cool million to a bunch of pissed-off Russians, and the corrupt cop was ready to leave young Hoyt with the bill. The “hot-headed” Alonzo killed a man on a weekend trip to Las Vegas only to find out later that the victim was connected with the Russian mafia.

Meanwhile Jake lands on Alonzo’s proverbial board green behind the ears, and tempted when Alonzo promises to designate him as a “hero” shooter in a raid that left a major drug dealer dead. Harris gave him the designation, along with a fistful of cash, in a bid to buy his soul; the alleged raid was a ruse and setup, orchestrated to steal enough money to pay off the Vegas debt, with enough to spare to take care of all the agents on the inside. It all hinged on the sacrifice of a pawn. Or in this case, a white rook named Jake.

All the other cops on the LAPD’s undercover narcotics squad are happy to pocket their cut. One of the cops takes two bullets for it, one of which goes through his armored vest, in order to sell it as a plausible story of “justifiable homicide in the line of duty.” Jake doesn’t want to be set up as a hero in a case of armed-robbery-with-a-badge, and turns down Alonzo’s payout flatly. He even passes on the promise of a fast-track to detective class which comes with the deal.

There’s nothing more dangerous or unpredictable than a clean cop. But like Lucifer looking to close the deal with Faust, there’s always a different tact. Alonzo apologizes for the “ugly” realities of the real world, even as he explains, “You gotta have a little dirt on you for anybody to trust you.”

Alonzo has been trying to besmudge the narcotics team applicant from the moment Jake showed up for work, but the move had been in play long before that. The “Zig Zag” man makes Jake smoke a bowlful of some mean green with a PCP sheen while cutting off four lanes of traffic (with a non-verbal service revolver retort for anyone complaining of delays).

Alonzo proceeds to get Jake to drink on the job, question his marital fidelity, conduct a search with a takeout menu passing for a warrant, and endure several unnecessary beatings. It is a grooming process, which is wasted on the stubborn youth.

The entire operation, as we come to learn, is to make a score and retain control of the streets. This is a team effort, and everyone has to take one for the team. Peer pressure is a hell of a thing to throw at an aspiring, professional underling, and the Satanic sergeant tosses it like salad in a three-course meal: Do the drugs, take the money, own the streets.

When the rookie narc wannabe breaks a chain of command, which has been handed down by the three Wise Men themselves, Alonzo plays god, the serpent and the King of Kongs to bring the sheep back into the fold. His unholy commandments are set in concrete. The two-man dialogue in the below scene is a diabolically convincing breakdown of common sense coppery. Jake sees Roger (Scott Glenn), the ex-cop and now ex-person left on the floor of the raid, as Alonzo’s friend who the superior killed “like a fly.” But the veteran drug cop knew Roger as “the biggest major violator in Los Angeles,” who he watched “operate with impunity for over 10 years.” Alonzo believes his justifications. “This is the game. I’m playing his ass. That’s my job. That’s your job.”

With this, Alonzo lays it out bluntly, plainly and without room for misinterpretation: Detective Harris is a master ass player, a virtuoso of undercover infiltration. The audience knows Jake has been played as expertly as Roger. Manipulated like some figure on a checkerboard square. Washington sells this idea completely. We do not doubt his sincerity, as evil as the concept is. The character is slick, a little intimidating, and an irresistibly magnanimous prince of a guy. But the actor has one extra weapon in his arsenal, and it is hardly concealed.

Alonzo Harris was Washington’s first villain role. The part is made more deliciously seditious because it subverts everything the performer had thrown on film sets and theaters stages his entire career. Washington excelled in playing men who held themselves to a higher standard. He shed one tear as the ex-slave Private Trip fighting with Union soldiers only to be whipped, publicly, for insubordination in Glory (1989). It would mark the first time he won an Oscar, although in the Supporting Actor category.

He took the blows of apartheid-loving, government-sanctioned sadists as South African activist Steve Biko in Cry Freedom. Washington’s naval executive risked court martial to avert nuclear battle in Crimson Tide (1995). His homophobic lawyer risked the stigma of social alienation to find justice in the age of AIDS in 1993’s Philadelphia. Perhaps, most markedly, his charismatic naturalism embodied the Nation of Islam activist and title character in Spike Lee’s Malcolm X (1992).

There is no practical way to measure the intangible effects respect, adulation, and natural leadership has on a viewer. By the time Training Day came out, Washington was already a mentor, and an inspiration for extremely talented actors. Audiences trusted him and afforded him a gravitas rarely achieved by some of the most seasoned of performers. Hawke’s character is fully primed to continue his education as the squad intended. We accept Alonzo Harris as a veteran who knows exactly what it takes to live through that job.

Washington performed in theater productions, including Othello, When The Chickens Come Home to Roost, and Dark Old Men. He would perform his most audacious Training Day scene in the round. His voice can be heard at the top of the tenement windows which replace the nosebleed seats, when he screams, “King Kong ain’t got shit on me.” But the intimacy of his scene with Hawke, in the car Alonzo calls his office, rounds out the performance with false bravado and quiet desperation.

He is solicitous, empathetic, reasonable, and completely twisted. Alonso knows he seems jaded, and he gets the young officer’s idealism. He was the same way. But when Alonzo fell from grace, he ruled the underworld. He cuts corners, takes graft, hassles kids for free smokes, but he’s got a conviction record which is measured in years, not human lives. It’s scary the first time, taking the money. But it’s how things get done: from the inside.

Det. Harris ranks as one of the greatest villains in cinema history. Washington looks likes he’s having a ball playing him, and Antoine Fuqua crafted an amazingly realistic playground for his moves.

“It takes a wolf to catch a wolf,” Alonzo advises during his tenure in the film. Lone or in a pack, Washington is the alpha dog in Training Day. His bark’s impressive, but it’s got nothing on his bite. Denzel unleashes a devil in a badge with a hellhound on his trail. He can’t rig all the games, but the Oscar was a sure thing in an unsure world.

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samkirkprovokeculture · 7 years

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Havana: A Beautiful Decay

Havana: A Beautiful Decay by Sam Kirk

The sun has just arrived as the brooms begin to scrape against the sidewalks. Splashes of water and soap wind down the curbs of Havana as the women rise to their doorsteps to clean the polluted combination of dirt, dust, urine and dog poop that collected from the day before.

The "Panadero" melodically yells his name into the air as he pushes a heavy metal cart stacked with bread loafs through the street. And one after another, women shout down their order as they prepare the bag to drop from their balconies.

A bicycle taxi squeaks through the street, decorated with the vibrant pattern of the Cuban flag, for a short moment, he's the only vehicle in sight.

I'm hanging out on the fourth floor balcony where no one notices me.

My girlfriend's chanclas flip flop across the floor as she moves between rooms touching up her hair and make up. Leopard pants and a tank top, today is dance class at the Cuban Cultural Center de Arrabe.

My mind is exploding. Creative stimulation galore. In the two weeks that we've been here, today, I'm excited to be in Cuba!

"Panadero!" "Panadero!" I sing through the house, mimicking the street vendor, sharing this moment with Jen. I pack up my sketch book, a reading book and we head out the door.

The streets fill early in Cuba. A combination of fresh bread, cigarettes and car exhaust fill the air. I'm choosing the first as my focus.

Sleek lines, fresh locks, and hair rolled in curlers, covered in schnazy handkerchiefs bob through the street in Saturday's hustle to beat the mid day rush.

The Arab Center is quieter than the day before. As Jen heads to class, I zig zag through the streets searching for an internet connection that matches my etesca card. About a mile away, Success! The sound to award this joy is the repeated selection of wifi choice until the connection syncs, followed by two sets of 12 digit numbers to input.

Internet is a tricky process in Cuba! As I wait for the dial up process to connect, I hear a Tony Montana like voice selling newspapers "Gramma! Gramma! " as his voice grows distant, I imagine the ending scene from Godfather "Say hello to my little friend" and laugh... twisted artist imagination. "I've got to tell Jen about this guy."

A dozen hellos, love you's coupled with business calls and I'm good to go. An hour to spare I wander through the blocks of Old Havana, racking up photos in my camera and in my mind.

There are pockets of produce in the walls, and I take note of the locations selling onions and bananas, another selling yuca and beets, and a cart with tomatoes and peppers. One of the best perks growing up barely middle class... we both know how to scramble something amazing from not much of anything.

The first place we stayed had a scary kitchen and the new location is a bit of a upgrade so we're trying to cook more this last week. A combination of lots of pork, fried food and not so Italian meals has us craving fresh roasted veggies and fruit.

For two weeks our brains have converted to cash registers, calculating convertible pesos to national pesos with a bit extra for the constant scheming from locals. Prices increase at the sight of us. The sign says $5 but for us it's $8 but the "money transfer" equals $10. They always make sure to ask, where are you from before you pay? Sigh.

In a dark, dusty, dimly lit room are two fingerprint smudged glass counters. They are empty, mostly. Behind them on the wall are small glass bottles with handwritten signs. One reads "$2 MN per lb." for rice. That's $.10 for us. We wait in line and as we give the clerk our order, she stops and moves toward another woman that came in the door. For a moment I thought "oh she wants to serve the locals first, no biggie" but then the woman asks Jen "Where are you from?" At this point we've learned identifying as American is equal to wearing a sign that says "I'm rich."

A series of exchanges occur and we are out the door, no rice, no food.

We turn the corner into a produce shop. The tomatoes are a yellowish orange, the pina is smashed but the man in the store is semi- honest. As I pick tomatoes, he slips inappropriate "compliments" to Jen. The ever present sigh and a deep breath combo of our lives never leaves.

At home, a small saucepan boils two tomatoes. The house begins to smell similar to our home from the onions simmering in the frying pan. Steam slowly rises in a stream above the stove for pasta.

In the bedroom, my girlfriend is reading Shondra Rhimes book, "A Year of Yes". She is nearing the end, where Shondra talks about her HRC speech and her tears begin to fall.

Her round cheeks turn rosy, her hands partially cover her face and she sobs.

No matter where we are, we are never just us.

The tears dry up. Sleep eases the soul. A new day has come.

This story is one of 18 days in Habana, Cuba. During the others, we had a combination of amazing and painful experiences. All worthy for the eye opening and learning opportunities.

By the last week, we chose to take a risk and held hands --- this was by far our favorite part. Participating in public as a couple was necessary for our happiness.

To view more photos and stories, visit our Habana inspired artworks.

#queer travel #lgbt relationships #cuban culture #havana

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yourenevertoooldbut-blog · 7 years

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"All In?" A Case Study In Stand-Up Comedy

Suppose you're in your early thirties or older and want to give stand-up a try... First and foremost, hats off to you. Most people do not have the courage to ever try something like that. It is nerve-wracking at first. If you are naturally introverted, it can be downright brutal. Don't believe me? Cobble together five minutes, find an open-mic in your area, and get on the low-rise stage with the faux-brick backdrop.

It's warmer up there than you'd imagine, and the lights are a LOT brighter you'd imagine. You can kind of make out some faces in the audience, but not really. The rustle of limbs adjusting in their seats and the clink of pint glasses informs you that there are quite a few people in the room, but otherwise, they're quiet as hell because they're waiting for YOU to make them laugh. You hear an awkward, breaking, nervous voice coming out of a cheap PA system, shambling his or her way through a joke, and then you realize it's yours.

Suppose you bomb a couple times, but something masochistic and resilient in you says, "That was scary but fun, I want to try doing this some more and see if I get better!", and indeed, you put in work and keep at it. You find yourself improving It's bringing out something new in you that you never quite imagined you'd see or experienced.

That fun and newness and electric feeling you're experiencing is gonna slam hard against the hull of a two big questions: "I'm in my thirties. Time is not on my wide like it used to be. How far do I want to go with this, and am I willing or capable of putting in what's needed to get there?"

There's less of an urgency to ask this question in your early or mid-twenties. Not so in your thirties. Your sense of time and appreciation for time is a lot different. You understand that things have ticking clocks attached to them. Maybe you have other life goals with their own ticking clocks that are incompatible with this new thing. Maybe you have responsibilities in your life that take priority over this new thing.

All of this is pretty self-evident, but they kind of determine your answer to the two questions:

1. How Far Do I Want To Go With This Thing?

There are really two answers...."All In" or "Not All In"

If your answer is "Not All In", then that makes what you do a lot more flexible. Suppose you say to yourself, "Hey, I don't want to go pro, I just want to do an open-mic every once in a while and have fun and see if I get better...". If that is all you want to do and are content with that, then bravo. You have reasonable expectations and can probably adapt that to whatever is going on in your day to day life. The only trade-off is that there is a definite ceiling to how far you can go.

If your answer is "All In...", as in "This is going to be my main thing and I am going to seriously commit to this and go as far as I can!", then you have to ask yourself what is it going to take to get there.

2. Am I capable of putting in what's needed to get there?

There are more questions you'll have to ask yourself. I can't hit 'em all, but these are some big ones.

A. Am I Willing And/Or Able To Work 5 or 6 Nights A Week? Because you're going to have to. For practice, exposure and networking and becoming part of a community. You're probably going to have to zig-zag around to the the different rooms in your city. To do that, you may have to wait until 11:00 PM or later to get your time. And after you're done, hanging out and shooting the shit afterwards with your fellow comedians is par for the course. It's part of how you foster friendships as well as future working relationships. But someone who is twenty-three or twenty-four has different stamina than,say, someone ten years their senior.

Do you have a job that will allow you to keep this kind of schedule? Can you come into work the next day and still be able to do your job well? Do you have a partner or significant other? Do you have children? Do you have a dog? Can your body keep up with it?

B. Am I Willing To Go On The Road? If you're serious about, say making a living at standup, and want to break out of the three or four rooms you work around you're city, you're going to have to get out on the road at hit some farther-flung markets than you imagined. Are you, for instance, ready to have your East Coast metropolitan Jewish voice fall on deaf ears in Lynchburg, VA (seriously, don't go to Lynchburg)? Not only will you not make much money on the road while you pay your dues (which may take a few years), you will be very lucky if you break even and will, more likely than not, lose money out there. There is a documentary out there called "I Am Road Comic" that is worth watching if you have even the faintest aspirations of being a comedian. It's not that good a documentary, but it has a very informative cost breakdown portion of a week on the road. It's not that far off from living like a minor league ballplayer.

The smaller questions in Question A (significant other/job/children/dog) apply here as well. Assuming that the stars align and there's a window where you can take off, can you afford to be away for a week or two at a time and not bring any money home? Do you have pre-existing debt of any sort? By the way, you will take on debt as an aspiring comedian.

C. Am I Willing To Be Broke? Or Have A Roommate? With any serious endeavor comes sacrifice. One of these may be in the form of money lost to a time commitment. If your day job is incompatible with your new ambitions, you may need to find a new gig that can accommodate your comedy schedule. If you have already have a skill set that you can do on your own schedule and make decent money at, that's probably the most ideal. If you don't, you may have to take a service industry job or a temp job that will help you shore things up. If you're leaving behind a more stable lifestyle, you're most likely taking a pay cut.

Taking a pay cut to pursue a larger goal is a hard enough thing to do. The prospect of making just enough to scrape by on (especially if you live in an expensive real estate market, which you'll have to do) is a very, very hard prospect to go back to. Anyone who has been broke knows how terrible it makes you feel. In addition to the constant state of anxiety you live in, you have to deal with feelings of vulnerability and a tremendous amount of dings to your self-esteem. You feel like an utter loser when you have to ask people to borrow things.

I was broke for about four years in my early twenties. I said to myself, "Never again". I still stand by that answer today.

Ditto for having roommates.

D. Can I Deal With Being Around Twenty-Somethings All The Time? When I was a kid, I took karate lessons, and for the adults, they had an arrangement where they could skip a couple of belts provided they proved themselves in testing. The logic was that they can learn at a more advanced rate than a six-year-old, and should therefore have a different range of opportunities. Makes sense, right?

If you get a "late start" with stand-up, there is no skipping green belt through purple belt. There will be no one to come along and say, "Hey, you can come this way to the Thirty-And-Over Open Mic Room, we understand your situation." A comedian scrapping his or her way up is the same, regardless of age. You will be more like the lone "old guy" you may remember from classes in college, if you went to college. Except there may not be a "professor figure" closer to your age there whom you can relate to. So by default, your peers will probably be a lot younger than you. In a sense, you are peers: you are all new to something, you are all learning by trial and error and developing your own voice, you are going through the same highs and lows together and experiencing a sort of rite of passage together.

In another way, you are not quite peers because you are in different stages of life. For instance, I am thirty-seven years old at the time of this writing. I can have one conversation with a 25-year-old who loves all the same music and books and movies as I do, and a second conversation with a 36-year-old who may not like any of the same movies/music/books, but is sort of in a similar stage of life as me and has the same attendant anxieties. Odds are, I am going to feel more of a kinship with the 36-year-old than I will the 25-year-old. It doesn't mean I can't have fun talking to the 25-year-old, but the truth is, I know there will be a little bit of an "old guy loneliness" on my end. I know I could try and talk about the things I worry about at my age, and they could empathize and maybe understand it in the abstract, but they couldn't truly "get it" because they just haven't been there yet. Are you ready to feel that "old guy loneliness" / out-of-place feeling at a diner at 11:30 PM on a Tuesday?

E. Is This My #1 Thing? As your twenties draw to an end, so will your life as a polymath (or a dilettante, perhaps). It becomes harder to be a musician / writer / filmmaker / comedian / photographer / artisanal dildo craftsman. Some people choose to stay on that road, and that's fine, but it becomes harder to excel at any one thing. Time is not on your side like it used to be. You have to narrow your focus and decide for yourself what Your Number One is. And you have to be okay with those other things taking a backseat to Your Number One. Is stand-up comedy Your Number One? Is it the one craft you're ready and willing to devote most of your energy to? If not, that's okay.

I toyed around with open mics and had a blast, but chose not to continue with it because in my heart of hearts, I realized comedy was not my "Number One". Who knows, it’s possible that I’m merely just “office funny” and not “stage funny”. I also realized I could not answer many of the above questions in the affirmative. Maybe someday I will give open-mics another go, just to see how I do.

Many serious artistic pursuits besides comedy have a similar array of questions that have to be answered. Some of those answers you come up with may bum you out at first, but knowing which ones to ask early on enough will same you a LOT of unnecessary heartache.

-J

#standupcomedy #devotion #middleage

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