#man i love saturday and scaled and icy
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"Kinda wishin' that I never did Saturday" - Backslide (twenty one pilots)
#twenty one pilots#tyler joseph#topedit#clancy#saturday#backslide#man i love saturday and scaled and icy#still kinda working on my fic#in my head
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Thursday, 20 October, 2022.. Warmup.......Thrusters.......20 Minute AMRAP.
It was a bit warmer today. But it froze overnight, and that caused a massive leaf-drop from our blessed trees at the Barn. Another week and the trees will be bare. That’s my least favorite trilogy of months, those 3 months when our trees are barren of leaves.
Afterwards, I’ll get all the leaves blown away. And then I’ll lay down a thick layer of new long-leaf pine needles. Somehow it will look clean and neat tho’ bare at the Barn, and we will yet love being there. Except when it’s icy.
Warmup:
3 Rounds
10 Light Banded Thrusters
10 Overhead Squats with same band in place of bar.
Strength WOD:
Thrusters: 2 Reps E 2 M X 7 Sets ( 14 Reps )
Barbell can be taken from the Floor or rack.
Progress weight, post best 2.
Neal/Sloppy(??)=185 ED=165 Robert=155 Herb=135 Dana=125 Tom/Chad=105 Coach/Nathan=95 Joe/LSU=75 Kayla=42 Timmy (”The JerK”)=?? Harper/Alicia/Angel no post. Gail (Gayle)/Trip/Elisa/Faith/Ruth Anne and others=no posting. Who is “Sloppy”?
Metabolic Conditioner:
20 Minute AMRAP
For Rounds and Fractions
20 Double-Unders ( SU X 2 )
10 Push Presses ( 95/ 65 )
20 Calories any ERG ( must use 2 )
10 Dead-hang Pull-Ups
RXers:
Sloppy(??)=5 3/4 Neal=5 1/2 Timmy=5 Robert =4 1/4
Scaled:
Ed/Dana=7 Joe/Chad/Nathan/Kayla=5 LSU=4 1/2 Herb=4 1/4 Tom=4 Coach=PJ Many people did not post.
Cool-Down:
A Wine Tasting. Bring snacks.
And they did. Cheeses, crackers, “pigs in a blanket”, and more. “More” was Dana’s pumpkin bread that she personally made only moments before bringing that hot mess to the picnic table. Just one more reason to love Dana. And at least 8, maybe 10 bottles of wine. 3 whites and the rest reds. It all was enjoyed by the time we wrapped it up at about 7 PM.
Robert unloaded a bunch (I refuse to use “Tranche”) of new LONG SLEEVED JERSEY’s at the Barn yesterday. I have separated them into group sizes on hangers. Don’t venture to make a mess of them without asking me. All the girls present and many males got shirts today. You gotta be here to get one.
Elisa brought her Mom today. Gail (Gayle) is from Houston. She looked ‘way too young to be Elisa’s Mom, and I told her so. Miss Linda is out of town today, but due to poor timing I was sporting 8 days of grizzly beard and I couldn’t seem to get Gail (Gayle) involved in a conversation. That snake “The Bird Man Joe” had her locked up using his totally unexplainable charm, so I didn’t even get a chance to give her a new shirt. Prolly a small-medium I would gauge....
Most of you probably think I find you intolerable, but that’s not true. It’s not even 50% of you.
Saturday at 0730 and 0930. It’s gonna be a fine weekend.
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All Twenty One Pilots songs
On my old tøp blog i made a list of all the twenty one pilots songs, and I decided to recreate that list for this blog in case anyone wants that lmao. I’ll try to to keep it updated.
(this list includes obscure songs and covers)
If none of the links work for you, please go to pinktyler.tumblr.com/songs! (link in description)
It’s because tumblr has a limit on the amount of links allowed! But it should work on the app!
Twenty One Pilots, 2009
Implicit Demand for Proof
Fall Away (live)
The Pantaloon (live)
Addict With a Pen (live) (UG studios version)
Friend, Please (live)
March To the Sea (live)
Johnny Boy (live)
Oh Ms Believer (live)
Air Catcher (live)
Trapdoor (live)
A Car, A Torch, A Death
Taxi Cab (live) (acoustic)
Isle of Flightless Birds (live)
Regional at Best, 2011
Guns For Hands (live)
Holding On To You (live)
Ode To Sleep (live)
Slowtown (live) (live #2)
Car Radio (live)
Forest (live) (street poem)
Glowing Eyes
Kitchen Sink (live) feat. Zack Joseph
Anathema (live)
Lovely (live)
Ruby (live)
Trees (live)
Be Concerned feat. Jocef
Clear
Vessel, 2013
Ode To Sleep (live) (skeleton speech version) (livestream version)
Holding On To You (live) (the live room) (acoustic) (livestream version)
Migraine (live) (toy piano version) (the live room) (livestream version)
House of Gold (alternative video) (live) (live in a couple places) (the live room) (livestream version)
Car Radio (live) (the live room) (UG studios session) (acoustic) (remix) (livestream version)
Semi-automatic (live) (livestream version)
Screen (live) (acoustic) (acoustic #2) (livestream version)
The Run and Go (live) (livestream version)
Fake You Out (live) (livestream version)
Guns For Hands (live) (livestream version)
Trees (live) (livestream version)
Truce (live) (livestream version)
Lovely (bonus track)
Blurryface, 2015
Heavydirtysoul (live) (street poem)
Stressed Out (live) (lyric change) (acoustic) (remix)
Ride (live) (live, keyboard intro) (acoustic) (acoustic #2) (reconstructed)
Fairly Local (live)
Tear In My Heart (live) (live with drum line) (acoustic) (acoustic #2)
Lane Boy (live) (acoustic) (acoustic #2)
The Judge (live) (acoustic)
Doubt (live)
Polarize (live) (acoustic) (acoustic #2)
We Don’t Believe What’s On TV (live) (acoustic) (acoustic #2) (sleepers)
Message Man (live) (sleepers)
Hometown (live) (sleepers)
Not Today (live)
Goner (2012 version) (live) (sleepers)
Trench, 2018
Jumpsuit (live)
Levitate (live)
Morph (live)
My Blood (alternate video) (live) (acoustic) (acoustic #2) (reconstructed)
Chlorine (live) (location session) (reconstructed)
Smithereens (live) (reconstructed)
Neon Gravestones (live) (acoustic)
The Hype (live) (location session) (Alt mix)
Nico and the Niners (live)
Cut My Lip (live) (acoustic) (location session) (reconstructed)
Bandito (live)
Pet Cheetah (live) (VR)
Legend (live)
Leave the City (live)
Scaled And Icy, 2021
Good Day (live)
Choker (live)
Shy Away (live)
The Outside (live)
Saturday (live) (live at the VMAs/acoustic-ish) (sleepy version)
Never Take It (live)
Mulberry Street (live)
Formidable
Bounce Man
No Chances (live)
Redecorate (live)
Johnny Boy, 2010
Johnny Boy (live)
Air Catcher
Time To Say Goodbye (live)
Addict With a Pen (live)
Friend, Please
Taxi Cab (live)
TOPxMM, 2016
Heathens feat. Mutemath
Heavydirtysoul feat. Mutemath
Ride feat. Mutemath
Tear In My Heart feat. Mutemath
Lane Boy feat. Mutemath
Scaled And Icy Livestream Experience, 2021
Full livestream
Choker / Stressed Out / Migraine / Morph / Holding On To You
Mulberry Street
Lane Boy / Redecorate / Chlorine
Shy Away
The Outside
Heathens / Trees
Jumpsuit / Heavydirtysoul
Saturday / Level Of Concern / Ride / Car Radio
Never Take It
MTV Unplugged, 2022
Full performance
Stressed Out
Tear In My Heart
House of Gold / Lane Boy
Shy Away
Ride / Nico And The Niners
Car Radio / Heathens
Singles
Heathens (live) (Stranger Things version)
Level of Concern (lyric video) (live) (at home)
Christmas Saves The Year
No Phun Intended, 2007
Blasphemy
Drown
Hole In the Ground
Save (remastered)
Taken By Sleep
I Want to Know
Just Like Yesterday
Never Change
Prove Me Wrong
Realize That It’s Gone
Tonight
Falling Too
Whisper
Taco Bell Saga
Going Down
Where Did We Go
Hear Me Now
Other
A Serious Cover Song feat. Mark Eshleman
Brand New Song
Campfire medley (Formidable / Doubt / Tear In My Heart)
Campfire medley #2 (Bounce Man / Tear In My Heart / I Can See Clearly Now / Home / House of Gold / We Don’t Believe What’s On TV)
Campfire medley #3 (I Can See Clearly Now / Home / A Kiss From A Rose / House of Gold / We Don’t Believe What’s On TV)
Coconut Sharks in the Water
Compilation of Josh Dun singing (Part 2)
Dollhouse feat. Jocef
Drum Battle
Heavydirtysoul/Saturday
Hong Kong rap
Hoverboard
If live (by House of Heroes, with Josh Dun)
Mexico City
My Little Drummer
Old song medley (The Pantaloon / Fall Away / Johnny Boy / Forest / Addict With A Pen / March to the Sea / Kitchen Sink / Cancer)
Original Christmas Songs
RAB + Self-titled medley (Glowing Eyes / A Car, A Torch, A Death / Oh Ms Believer / Anathema / Fall Away / Isle of Flightless Birds / Taxi Cab / Ruby)
Roman Holidays live (by Halsey, with Josh Dun)
San Francisco
Sports, Fires, Sport Cars On Tires
What’s Your Story?
Yo Quiero Taco Bell
Covers
All I Do Is Win with Chris Joseph
Always
Baby Shark (Ukulele version)
Bad Boys For Life
Bennie and the Jets
Break Your Heart
Brown Eyed Girl
Build Me Up Buttercup
Call Me Maybe (Feat. a fan)
Campfire medley #4 (I Can See Clearly Now / My Girl / Home)
Cancer
Can’t Help Falling In Love (And this one)
Covers With Nigel (All I Do Is Win / Bugatti / Drunk In Love / Can’t Help Falling In Love)
Don’t Look Back In Anger
Drum covers / Gangnam Style
ET
First Date
Get Lucky / Safe and Sound
Hey Jude
I’m Not Okay (I Promise)
I’m Yours
Iris
Jar of Hearts
Jump Around
Lowrider
Mad World
Mary Had A Little Lamb
National Anthem
No Woman, No Cry
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
One More Time
Someone Like You
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Summertime Sadness
Tubthumping
Twist and Shout / My Heart Will Go On / Love Yourself / Jump Around
We are Young
Wonderwall
Yellow
You And I
You Belong With Me
You Make Me Wanna Shout
You’re Beautiful
7 Acoustic Covers (No One / I’m Yours / All I Do Is Win / Don’t Matter / Ignitition / Semi-Charmed Life / Ride Wit Me)
9 Crimes
Features
Almost Had Me (Lights feat. Josh Dun)
Dark Times (Hunna feat. Josh Dun)
In My Head (Lights feat. Josh Dun)
Lord of Glory (Whittaker feat. Tyler Joseph)
Midnight Heart (Watsky feat. Josh Dun)
Orthodontist Girl (Goldfinger feat. Josh Dun)
Rulers of Reverse (Whittaker feat. Tyler Joseph)
Twenty-Nine (Whittaker feat. Tyler Joseph)
Producer (Whittaker feat. Tyler Joseph)
Dead Come Alive (Whittaker feat. Tyler Joseph)
Savage (Lights feat. Josh Dun)
Sickly Sweet Holidays (Dallon Weekes feat. Tyler Joseph)
Surbuba album (House of Heroes feat. Josh Dun)
Speed of Light (Vesperteen feat. Josh Dun)
Live (Jocef feat. Tyler Joseph)
Demos
Bellkit
Blue Score 002
Classic
Creepy
Demo, 2011
Demo, 2013
Disco
Guns For Hands
I Need Something
Korea
Ode To Sleep
Pianobeat
Regg
Techno2
Trees
Two
Webseries002
Webseries003
Webseries004
Webseries005
Webseries006
Let me know if I missed any songs, and I’ll add them!
And be sure to tell me if any of the links don’t work!
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thoughts about scaled and icy because i have so many
i read what tyler said good day was about and wow okay that literally changes everything-
“HOMIE JUST SUED ME” this song-
i thought this was a happy song but its tyler imagining if he lost everything how in denial he would be
choker is probably my favorite on the album
his voice during “i know it’s over i was born a choker” makes me so happy i don’t know how to explain it
i am, in fact, a choker
“self sabotage is a sweet romance” is one of my favorite lines from tyler
“seems like all i’m worth is what i’m able to withstand” describes how i feel right now so well
the rap is so reminiscent of self titled :,))))
SHY AWAY ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAVORITES
THE WAY HE YELLS “BOY YOU BETTER NOT BE THERE” IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS
i love the lyric “just like an ‘i love you’ that isn’t words” its so pure
this hits too hard
I CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR SHY AWAY LIVE
DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE OUTSIDE OH MY GOD YALL-
“i’m already bored” mood
i really love the vocal effects on the outside but also the whole album
THE OUTSIDE WILL SOUND SO AWESOME LIVE OH MY GOD
another vibey song i’m grooving wow
the rap “i’m on the outside in the summer heat” i love it sounds so nice i don’t know how to describe it
the outside one of my top songs from the album could easily see it becoming my favorite
i know everyone didn’t like saturday but after a few listens i love it i’m not sorry
“have you lost your footing too”
“she said that i should change my clothes, i exaggerate the life we used to know” i really have no tangible thoughts on how hard these lyrics hit
“you’re good, these are my dancing shoes” bops so hard
tylers voice during never take it is so amazing and kinda nostalgic i just really love what he does on this track vocally
“why cure the disease of confusion when you’re the treatment center” go off tyler
HIS VOICE WHEN HE GOES “and my advice on those two things” WOW WOW OH MY GOD TYLER
love the guitar part
the piano during mulberry street? BILLY JOEL VIBES IN THE BEST WAY
again HIS VOICE
SO VIBEY WOW literally making me so happy :))))
seriously nothing i ever expected from them and i love it
just googled definition of formidable and wow thats so sweet :,)
“TAKE ME EVERYWHERE YOU’VE EVER BEEN”
“I WON’T BREAK YOUR HEART IF YOU CAN BREAK MY SPELL” I-
bounce man is literally going to be stuck in my head for eternity
“my wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife”
WHAT ON EARTH IS NO CHANCE HOLY SHIT I LOVE IT AHHHAHAHAERGHAHG
no chance has to be from the bishops perspective
after listening to redecorate i’d like to ask no one to touch me
“i don’t want to go like this at least let me clean my room” guys
i feel so much like the woman that puts blankets over mirrors i can’t-
“scaled back and isolated” I SEE YOU TYLER
once again no one touch me redecorate has me in pieces
i promise this will be my only long post on scaled and icy i apologize for those who don’t care lmao
#i really love this album#i was taken aback first listen#but now-#I LOVE IT SO MUCH#i really love what they did with it#its so unexpected#i love that they didn't go with what was expected#twenty one pilots#tyler joseph#josh dun#scaled and icy#tyler#josh#notblueitsviolentrain#maya angelou
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1st Album Review
Firstly, Hi! This is my first album review. I'm very excited to get to do this since music is something I really enjoy and I love to talk about it and analyze lyrics (I do take a look on Genius to see what other people, who may know more about the singer and their lyrics to see what they have to say about the song and lyrics.). With that being said, these are all MY personal opinions. Please do not attack me if you do not feel the same. But I am open to hear your opinions in the comments (please be nice and respectful about it). And please be respectful to others too. Anyway, that's it. Please enjoy!!! <3
“Scaled and Icy” By Twenty One Pilots
Release date: Friday May 21st, 2021
Genre: Like a mix of rock, rap and pop.
Tracks-
Good Day: I think this was a good song to open the album with. It has a very upbeat and catchy tune, along with the lyrics. But with that being said, it is definitely different from their past style. But I will go more in depth with that later. Overall for this song I do quite like it, and it seems like something I would play to make myself happier or even just for fun with friends. I give this song a 7.5/10
Choker: This was their second single that they dropped before the album was released. This song's lyrics seem to give off more vibes from their past albums. Mostly “Vessel”. The lyrics that seem to try and sort of hide the pain but also show it in different ways, “Self-sabotage is a sweet romance. Seems like all I'm worth is what I'm able to withstand. Sooner I can realize that pain is the middleman.” These lyrics hit at pain, but hide it with the very upbeat and catchy tune. I give this song 8/10
Shy Away: The first single released before the album. Again sort of like “choker”, these lyrics seem to have vibes or a similar writing style from their past albums. “Shy Away” seems to be about self acceptance. Don't be afraid to be yourself, don't hide the person you are or who you want to be, “Don't you Shy away”. Through the song, the character or person that they may be singing to has a change. In verse two it says, “When you get home. You barely recognize the pictures, they put in a frame.” Sort of showing that you can't find your true self, or can't even see it. Then in verse three it switches, “When I get home. Boy, you better not be there. You're long gone” Now, I think this can mean two different things. Either that their “true self” is gone and that they cant find it or keep pushing it away because they are too scared to be their true self. Or that their old self is gone. They finally shed their skin (“And leave your skin on the floor”) and found themselves and they are able to be themselves. I think that because I really love the meanings and the message behind the lyrics, I'll give this song a 9/10.
The Outside: Again, the beat is very, very catchy. That's the main vibe I get from the album so far. This seems like the first song that really brings out the sort of rap style in different parts of the songs that we saw a lot in their past albums. Though the beat is catchy and so are the lyrics, I’m not a huge fan of this song in particular, 6/10.
Saturday: Their third, and final single (As of 5/21/21). Okay. . .so the beginning sounds like a song they would use on an “Old Navy” commercial. Buuuutttttttt I will say that this song's lyrics are actually quite cool. The chorus seems to align with an old song of theirs, “Migraine” from their 2013 album “Vessel”. “Slow down on Monday. Not a sound on Wednesday. Might get loud, on Friday. But on Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, we paint the town.” I think that the way they describe the days could correlate with the lyrics from Migraine, “Thank God it's Friday, Cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays, Cause Sunday's are my suicide days.” Either saying how, over the time they have gotten better, their days have changed and no longer feel the way they did. I give this a 8/10, mostly for the lyrics and how it may align with their past song.
Never Take It: This song is calling out to everyone. How people are fighting back, fighting to know the truth about our world. Speaking on how people profit off of lies and separating the world from each other. I think this song has a great underlying message. 9/10
Mulberry Street: Fun Fact- Mulberry is actually a real place in New York. This song is like, when you're feeling out of place. You're different and “Everyone relies on synthetic highs” to sort of deal with that, to deal with not having control over everything. I actually really love this one, the beat and the instruments actually feel like “a synthetic high”, it makes me feel light and airy. I love it, 10/10.
Formidable: This song was written by Tyler and is very close to him since it is about his daughter Rosie. With this being said, I’m not going to diss this song because it is something close to him. Plus I think it's a great song and makes me feel happy and like everyone deserves love. 10/10
Bounce Man: Like a man running from maybe his life or trying to find a new life. They are happy and their friends are begging them to come back home. But his friends are trying to know if he is okay while trying to search for him or giving him reasons to bounce back to them. Like almost all of the songs on the album, I truly just adore the beat of the songs, 7/10.
No Chances: This song gives me so many vibes that take me back to their “Trench” album and era Sort of a dark, twisted beat with lyrics that make you feel like people are after you. 9/10, because I love the way it gives me “Trench” vibes.
Redecorate: This song ends the story. But it actually tells a story of the story in the album. . .does that make sense? Through the album we hear a story of this person who seems to be running in circles trying to find themself, to try and be a better person. In the end they find a way that they can change their life, using the metaphor, “Should I keep it on display? Or redecorate?” 10/10
Recap: Going into this album review, I was scared that I wouldn't like it that much. Since I, and many others, were so used to their old style of music, this was a big change. But with the big change there is a lot of good that comes from it. With this album, Tyler and Josh both seem much happier, like they are in a better head space. And I am so thankful for that, because even though they gave us great music in the past, they really were not in the best head space. I feel like many people have pushed away from “Scaled and Icy” because of the change. But I would much rather Tyler and Josh to give us a different style of music, than to stay how they were. I can't express how proud I am of the both of them, not only for getting help but for fighting through what they did. And for giving us a great album that we can cherish. It is truly amazing.
I love the story that comes with the lyrics, how it shows that even if you're an “outcast” you can still be amazing and push through. You can still become the person you achieve to be. Some songs in the album have a truly great message behind them, and I think that's import. Since many people these days spend forever idolizing their idols or favorite band, they look up to them and it makes a huge part of who they are. So I find it important that artists speak on issues in today's society and pledge for a better life in the world we live in.
My final rating. . .8.5/10.
#twenty øne piløts#twenty one pilots#scaled and icy#tyler joseph#josh dun#Good day#choker#Shy Aay#The Outside#Saturday#Never Take it#Mulberry Street#formidable#Bounce Man#No Chances#Redecorate#vessel#Blurry face#Trench#new album#album review#review#Reaction#rating#tøp clique#tøp lyrics#tøp#twenty one pilots clique#clique
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anna reacts to scaled and icy because i just took the ap calculus test and i need a reward after descending into the pits of hell
what i know going into this is: no dema theories at all idk the storyline AT ALL, apparently mulberry street is godsend. LETS GO
good day: RADIOHEAD VIBES?? NVM?? NVM OMG BOPPING OK WE ARE BOPPING!!! YESSSS GO OFF TYLER :D is this about ro omg🥺 ITS CUUUTE,, SO CUUUUTE omg the UKULELE NOSTALGIAANDBDBDNNDNDNDN🥺🥺.. the bridge... it’s true :((((... omg omg i LOVE THE BRIDGE,,,, been feeling it a lot lately I LOVE IT THE BRASS🥺! i like the slightly melancholy vibe behind it all,, and the vocals,, but also it’s CUUTE and mellow yess OKAY
choker: OMG I LOVE THE PRODUCTION ALREADY!!!! I LOVE THIS NEW SOUND🥺 omg 14 year old me likes this song best i already know,, THE CHORUS,, okay this gives me the postal service vibes?? do y’all know the postal service?? it’s the drums and the electronics. and half-alive too hehe. I CANT GET OVER THIS CHORUS ITS THE BEST PART OH MY GOD THE PIANOOOOOO,,, okay i haven’t heard this live at all but i just KNOW he would open this with some piano,, u know the PIANO,, why are tøp bridges so good😓 RAP OH MY GOD,,, oh my god TTSG VIBES A LITTLE BIT,, TAXI CAB REFERENCES?1?1?2): OH MY GOD THAT WAS TOTALLY A TAXI CAB REFERENCE IDC IF THAT WAS LORE THAT WAS TAXI CAB
shy away: OK IVE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE,,, what a BOP! yes! these lyrics are so,,, i need to like PROCESS PLEASE RHFBDJFBDNDNBD THEYRE GOING TOO FAST😭 A STRAIGHT UP BOP AND THE VOCALS SOB THE SCREAMING IN THE BACK PLEASE THE PRODUCTION IS SO GOOOOOOOD🥺 please tyler do screamo stop teasing me the PRODUCTION I CANT PROCESS
the outside: OOOOOO??) YES JOSH🥰 the ukulele version of this would be so good,, MARCH TO THE SEA REFERENCE😭 THE JSHDJDBFJD i feel like the entire album is leading up to a screamo track CAN WE PLEASE GET A SCREAMO TRACK anyway this song PLEASE GIVE US WHAT WE WANT IN THIS LAST CHORUS TYLER I BELIEVE IN YOU OH MY GOD THE RAP YESSSSSSSSSSSSS GIVE ME PET CHEETAH hehehe i’m nodding yes CAN YOU IMAGINE THE PERFORMANCE EVERYONE GOING NOD NOD LMAO yes💃 PLEASE LEAD UP TO SCREAMO?? no ok RAP IS FINE THANK YOU!!!! i have not read any interpretations but i like the mockery of popular language
saturday: OOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE GUVE ME A PARTY TRACK!!!! OKAY WAIT VIBING YES! YES THIS IS WAHT SATURDAY FEELS LIKE🥺 yes i have lost my footing too bff :(( YES THE CHORUS YES EXAXTLY THIS HITS THANK YOU!1!!1!1!!!!!! WE PAINT THE TOWN YESSSSSS YESSSSSSS THIS IS SO GOOD I THINK ITS MY FAV SO FAR... it feels like quarantine like making the best of it,,, to me anyway THE OCEAN YES guys i love the ocean please FLOATING CIRCLES IN MY FISHBOWL YES THATS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE THIS IS A QUARANTINE SONG UWU OHNKY GOD THE SAMPLE!!! YESSSSSS okay this is my favorite so far i reALLY LOVE IT!! YES THE EDNING SO GROOVY AND THE AD LIBS IM IN LOVE YOUR HONOR
never take it: OHBWOW??? the production im reeling the CONTRAST i could write an essay RIGHT NOW ,, I NEED TO PROCESS HOLD ON WOWWWW I LOVE IT !! yes rebel against the government <3 PLEASE CAN WE GET SCREAMO THIS HAS SUCH SCREAMO POTENTIAL😔 YES HE SCREAMED PLEASE GO OFF PLEASE PLEASEEEEEEE IM BEGGING YOU OH KY GOD THE LITTLE VOCALS THE FALSETTO🥳🥳 the bridge is interesting,, THEY PROFIT FROM A GREAT DIVIDE IM REEEEELINGGGGG i love the lyrics of this one the most i think just based on this first listen and the CONTRAST IN PRODUCTION AS IT RELATES TO THE LYRICS PLEASE
mulberry street: OKAY THIS IS THE ONE EVERYONE LIKES SHHDJDBDJ,, okay,, OKG I LOVE IT SO FAR WOW THE DJDHFJFNDKFJ THE MUTED YES the actual vibes of this i love it!! we’re pushing sideways🥳🥳💃💃 IT FEELS LIKE THESE TWO EMOJIS 😎💃. THE KEEP YOUR BLISS THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS IM ADDICTED (ironic lmao) MOVE OUT OF OUR WAY UWUWUWU😎 YES TIME FOR A TØP BRIDGE,,, oh my god.... speechless... OH MY GOD THE SWITCH???? FUCK YES THIS IS SO YESSSSSSSSS!!!! the absolute VIBES! GET OUT OF OUR WAY HITSSSSS i need the keep your bliss as my text tone or something why is that so good
formidable: ok vibing yes.. is this for jenna... ITS CUUTE🥺 ILL FOLLOW YOU🥺🥺.. THIS IS SO GOOD !! i love it oh my god... OHNMY GOD SO CUTE SJDHDJFB again this would be so good on the ukulele please and I LOVE THE LYRICS!!! SO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT
bounce man: CAN WE GET ANOTHER PARTY TRACK😎 omg the flute yeaaaa 😙 it’s like cute partners in crime i like it,, a little melancholy but like EMBRACING it if that makes sense,, like a song for an old friend
no chances: PLEASE GIVE ME THE SCREAMO THE ABSOLUTE VIBES PLEASE PLEASE IM READY PLEase... the ANTICIPATIONZZZzzz.. HEAVYDIRTYSOUL VIBES HEHE OOOOOOOOO🤨 the prechorus is so different😳 OOOOOH THE LIKE CHOIR AND THE RAP OMG SNDBDBDN I FEEL LIKE THERES A LOT OF LORE IN THIS ONE HEHEHE🤩 MY SONVV??? MY SUN???? uhm hey @vialism did you... anyway...:!?:&3!;&; this is more mellow than i thought it was gonna be djdhdjfbfj idk why i feel so safe right now :((... but like still... the CHORUS.!.!,!,!,!,... SO LIKE... EERIE,,,, i’m imagining the live performance rn OOOO there is so much lore behind this i just know it and BTW THE PRODUCTION
redecorate: THAT ENDED SO ABRUPTLY?? is it time for the sad track at the end,,, oh no this is more vibes.. OH NO THIS IS SAD... OH NO.... THE SHADOW DRHE DBDBXNNNNN I LOVE THIS SO MYCH ALREADY AT LEAST LET ME CLEAN MY ROOM😭,,, HOLY SHIT I LOVE IT..,., the lyrics i’m speechless waitnfbdbdnfnfnn take a breath before you break in i’m actually in shock the lyrics the lyrics... FUCK ITS ENDING NOOOOO :((( the album is ending that went too fast :((( the live version of this song is going to be (already is? lol) so gooooooood., it’s over :(((
NOOOOO IT ENDED
come back
i needed the screamo track
gimme
anyways
in conclusion, this album is gay
#i will post more thoughts later just let me re-listen shdbdjdbdj#twenty one pilots#scaled and icy#help#i’m reeling
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TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)
So... how 'bout that album release week?
There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.
I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.
Scaled and Icy Review
First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.
"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10
I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10
"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.
Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10
"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10
"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10
"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10
"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10
"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10
"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10
"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10
If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.
Other News
Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.
The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.
Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.
What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.
Power to the local dreamer.
|-/
#twenty one pilots#scaled and icy#tyler joseph#josh dun#good day#shy away#choker#the outside#saturday#never take it#mulberry street#formidable#bounce man#no chances#redecorate#top weekly update
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scaled and icy first impressions :)
1. good day - oh PIANO !!!!! very fun + reminds me of a sitcom theme song? also very blatantly dema propaganda-y in some places ?
2. choker - still don’t know what it means still love it :)
3. shy away - BOY YOU BETTER NOT BE HOME
4. the outside - fun noises :) “kids will try to take my vibe” is about me circa 2016. MEGALODON REFERENCE HELL YEAH
5. saturday - “might get *pause* loud” still makes me go feral. i can already see tyler dancing to this lmao
6. never take it - “trying hard to weaponize you and i” 👀 .. oh GUITAR !! and a little bit of yelling im <3
7. mulberry street - oh lowkey rab vibes ?? “you can have the weekend” (“on saturday we paint the town” / “sundays are my suicide days” ??) “yeaaaaaaaah whoo ”
8. formidable - is this the jenna song of the album 🥺 <3 <3 <3 adorable <3
9. bounce man - is this actually about basketball. lowkey coconut sharks vibes lmao ? bounce bounce bounce man come to the house man bounce bounce bounce man come to the house man bounce b
10. no chances - oh WHAT. dare i say ..... BLURRYFACE VIBES :0 ? “weekends on the grind” ? oh i love this SO MUCH AAAA
11. redecorate - sick transition wow. “at least let me clean my room” :( :( .. yeah im . crying
final thoughts: i have felt more emotions in the past 38 minutes than i have in the past 3 months. another masterpiece thank u pilots <3
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Just some connections i made and loved!
»Then you head to Mexico«
{ Bounce Man - twenty one pilots - scales and icy}
"Erase myself and let go
Start it over again in Mexico"
{ I don't care - Fall Out Boy - Folie à deux}
_______________________________
»But on Saturday, Saturday, Saturday
We paint the town«
{ Saturday - twenty one pilots - scales and icy}
»I can't sleep
In the wake of Saturday (Saturday)
Saturday
When these open doors were open-ended
Saturday«
{ Saturday - Fall Out Boy - Take this to your grave }
»Let's go paint the town
On our way home«
{ Razzmatazz - idkhow - Razzmatazz }
_______________________________
{I hereby i no way want to imply copying or anything similar/hate, i literally just made these connections myself and fell in love.}
I adore all of scales and icy so much. I really dig it.
#twenty one pilots#scales and icy#idkhow#Razzmatazz#fall out boy#fob#top#folie a deux#take this to your grave#ttyg
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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 23
Read on AO3
Read chapter twenty-two
Title: Choice
Words: 8200
Summary: When one is hurt, comfort is imperative.
ST Rambles: Hello! It has been nearly a month, not quite, but I have missed you all so entirely too much to admit. This story is my heart, and sharing it means the world to me. I took my first exam of the semester this morning and wanted to finish this chapter so I could upload prior to going to my first maternal-newborn clinical rotation on Saturday.
During my time away I have had the opportunity to read many amazing works, whether they be one-shots on tumblr or ficlets right on A03. One that has evoked such a strong response in me has been Three Blind Tooke by ElmiDol. She is a beautiful soul with such a gift for storytelling. I have quickly fallen in love with this story and I hope to encourage many of you to do the same.
My plan for the semester and writing is to take one week writing and then take one week to read the stories that I want. I think this will provide the necessary balance needed for me to be successful in school while also creating and enjoying other creator's content.
[MASTERLIST]
Time has always had a funny way of making itself scarce when needed most. It seemed that you could barely remember the trial, like it had never happened and all that remained to prove that it had were the restraints locked tight around each of your wrists and your neck. Above you sounded the molten, fatal buzz of the plasma guillotine, though it was mere background noise to the riotous cacophony of the rabid crowd awaiting your final moment. As you knelt, trembling against the icy durasteel, face frozen under cold-stuck tears, you tried and failed to settle into acceptance that this would be your last act of life.
“Please,” you whimpered, unsure if anyone could hear you, “I… I saved that man’s life. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t deserve to die for keeping my oath.” You tried to scream but the pleads were barely whispers.
Out of sight came a bellowed laugh, full and ragged just as it had been in the past. “That isn’t why you’re here, young officer.” Snoke could hardly contain his glee. “You’re forgetting, you may have saved one life, but you took another.”
Nausea waved through you and your head started pounding; Snoke’s presence was pain, magnified with each echo of his words as the arena shook against the surround sound. An uproar of cheers and chanting came from before you, the crowd booming with enthusiasm, hanging off of every word their Supreme Leader spoke.
Through the fog of terrified eyes you saw an image appear behind the audience, scaling the entire back wall and striking you with rage. A scrollbar read something you could only assume to be his First Order given name, your focus too centered on the enormous projection of Robbie’s face, smiling while he held his helmet tight against his chest. He looked too nice, just as he’d seemed when you gave him a name. He was being renowned as a hero, his death marking you as the villain.
“I… He! I was defending myself, he was going to kill me!”
“But instead you killed me.”
This voice was angelic, familiar and welcoming in the storm surrounding you. It was accompanied by the footsteps you’d become so fond of, coming closer with every panted breath that fell from your lips. Kylo crowded your view of the blinding screen, a cape trailing in his path. He stopped when he was centered in your view and crouched so he was eye level with you.
He wore no mask, nothing to conceal his beautiful visage as the sight of him constricted your heart. When was the last you’d seen him? It felt like it had been so long, yet you could barely grasp any concept of time. It was frustrating, like you were barred in your memory. Kylo’s face gave no indication into his emotions, yet for a fleeting moment you swore you saw a tear glint over his cheek.
“Yet another of your victims, yes?” Snoke remained hidden, his voice shifting between your ears, slithering like the snake he was.
“You made me! I had no-,”
“Choice.” It was a discordant wrath of voices; at first Kylo’s, then Snoke’s, trailing off with the whispers of Robbie’s and Mason’s.
Kylo brought one hand, bare and freezing, to your cheek. It hadn’t been there before, but his face was now split with the consequences of battle, a gash – open, pulsating, and weeping – ripping through his features. A shiver sank into you, you throat tightening.
The way in which he next breathed your name made you weep, his thumb catching the tear that burned into your skin. “You’ve always had a choice, remember? You just keep making-,”
“The wrong ones.” You finished his sentence, remembering the first time he’d said it. A futile attempt was made to reach for his hand, a sting coming as the restraint bit into your wrist.
The crowd was growing impatient, hordes of screams coming from behind Kylo’s shoulders. The screen behind him shifted to present the live cast of your suffering, the view suggesting that it was Kylo’s own eyes giving view to the onlookers, your face excruciatingly close, allowing every audience member to bask in the terror that plagued you.
You sniffled, nuzzling into his hand and looking between his eyes. He mimicked you, though his gaze was empty, just as it had been one of the last times you could remember seeing him. “I trusted you,” he said. “More than anything.”
Kylo began to leave you, his fingertips lingering just before he could take three steps backwards. The plasma blade above you began hissing louder with inevitability, your eyes squeezing shut as you awaited your sentence’s completion. Pain took root in your left upper thigh, a kind of burning as you continued to kneel. A string of agony tore through your throat as your eyes shot open to see Kylo’s hand shoot up.
“No, no! Please! Kylo, no!” You could see your face twist with desperation behind him now, tears willful in their presence as each one painted creaks of pain down to the durasteel.
Snoke let out another flood of evil-tinged amusement as Kylo turned his face toward the direction the sound came. “You still don’t understand, stupid girl.” Another bark of laughter. “You might have had a choice,” he said, “but your Master never did. Never will.”
And as they were spoken, you saw that crushing glimmer of humanity flicker in the face of Kylo Ren as he turned back to you. Snoke, infuriatingly, was right, of course. Hearing it out loud, accepting it as fact, calmed you down. Staring up at him, watching his fingers twitch, you spent your last remaining second pitying him for all the control he believed he had, knowing more than he did that it was a masterful mirage. Snoke had Kylo wrapped around his finger; you had only aided in tightening his grip.
More than anything. It was the last thought before you heard the overhead blade drawing near, its volume immense until it wasn’t. The next thing you were aware of was the overbearing smell of flatcakes wafting into your nostrils. Taking a few deep breaths, your attention went to the ache twisted into the back of your skull, the dryness sticking to your lips, and the warm weight present over your right leg.
Taking one more deep breath, you coughed, lungs feeling like they’d been stagnant for a while, rejecting the stretch of air. Light was obvious even as your eyes remained shut, its overwhelming presence leading you to blink a few times before adapting.
“Where am I?” you croaked out. Answering your question, you first saw the familiar polygon meal tray sitting atop a bedside table while your watch rested next to it, next catching view of the pulse oximeter resting over your left index finger. This was the medbay.
The first thing that came to mind was your dream, remembering Kylo’s wounded face. He was hurt. Where was he? Was he okay? The monitor to your left sounded louder as your heart rate accelerated. Warmth left your right leg as you saw something move in your periphery. A person.
Mason had been asleep, his hair stuck to his face when he first looked at you with shock and relief. “You scared me!” He sprung up from the chair he’d been sitting in and flung his arms around you. “The news about Starkiller came and I didn’t know where you were.” He hummed your name into your neck while rocking you back and forth. “I thought you were… I thought you had… I didn’t know…”
“Mason.” It was all you could think to say, your arms resting at your side as he kept his hold on you. Maybe you should’ve felt relief that he was here and that he was okay, but all you could feel was regret and an overwhelming sadness. Mason was none the wiser, but his very existence was a reminder of what you’d done, undeniable proof of the choice you’d made.
He finally leaned back, keeping his hand locked around yours and staring down at you with red-rimmed eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his nerves settling more the longer he looked over your face. “I tried calling you—” a laugh accompanied the distant raise of his brows “—but I lost my commlink. I guess. I actually don’t know-,”
“What?” you interrupted his explanation, confused by his recall of events, wondering why Snoke wasn’t the focal point of his reasoning.
His face fell. “What? Did I say something? Are you hurt? Do you need water? Food? I actually ordered some flatcakes for me, but they’re all yours if you-,”
“You lost your commlink?”
His brow creased and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Yeah? Yeah. I mean. I guess. It’s been crazy around here today and—” his face bloomed in horror “—oh, fuck! I didn’t mean that your day hasn’t been bad, I just. Yeah. I lost it.”
He didn’t seem like he knew anything about Snoke, or that he remembered ever enduring the pain you’d heard him scream through the communication device earlier – actually, how long had it been?
“So… There was nothing… I mean, you weren’t… Summoned? Or…?”
“Summoned?” Mason looked at you with amused confusion. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t give you any pain medicine, but you’re acting a little loopy.”
He didn’t know. He was blissfully ignorant to Snoke’s involvement in your or his life. Again, instead of relief you were met with that bleakness from before. “Maybe I was just dreaming,” you brushed it off.
Dreaming. Kylo. “I need to see him,” you mumbled, moving to stand and becoming extremely aware of your left leg once more. A hiss left you before Mason could pull your shoulders back against the bed, your hand reaching down to soothe the blanket-covered wounds.
“Not so fast,” he said. “Doctor Belkar wants to examine you before you start walking.”
“Belkar?” You couldn’t remember ever hearing that name, though your memory may not be the most reliable at the moment.
“I heard my name.” A man – shorter, skinny, and dark-skinned – peered into the door before knocking and stepping in. “Oh, good! Glad to see you’re awake. You had us worried there for a moment.” Belkar took a few more steps so he was on your left, clutching a datapad under his arm and smiling down at you. His presence was comfortable and professional. He seemed to possess a bedside manner not common of many physicians, and he’d barely even spoken.
Squinting towards his badge you found his first name. “Trace Belkar.” You sounded it out, feeling a faint sense of familiarity. Looking to his face, it finally struck you. “Oh! You’re, you are the one who… You helped me with my friend earlier.” Warmth set in your cheeks when you realized you knew him.
“Ah! My first surprise patient of the day. Funny how things seem to come full circle, isn’t it? Now-,”
Further realization hit. “You also helped me that night. I was the nurse who…” Maybe he didn’t remember who you were, and maybe he didn’t need to, given your actions that night were rather infamous currently.
“Yes! I knew you looked familiar seeing you yesterday. You are the nurse that saved my patient’s life. Great work that night, by the way. Fast-thinking, resourceful. Gives me hope for the next generation of medics.” A quick smile flashed across his face before he reached into his coat pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind following my finger with your eyes.”
It probably took too long for you to follow his request as you were taken aback by his praise for that night. The only emotions you’d ever attached to that it had been pain and fear, likely influenced by the way you were being reprimanded at the moment, thinking of that night as a crime rather than the miracle that it was for that man.
“Um, yes. Sorry.” You shook your head and followed the tip of his finger as he dragged it around – up and down, right to left, and finally in a diagonal cross.
“Any nausea, pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches?” His tone was absent while he traced his penlight in and out of sight to finish his PERRLA assessment.
“I’m really fine. This isn’t necessary at all.” You couldn’t stand being treated like a patient. Even when you were one. Knowing the inner workings of every check made it difficult not to see through their purpose. “I could probably leave now and I’d be fi-ah!” You’d tensed your wounded leg without thinking when shifting in the bed.
“How’s that leg treating you?” It seemed he was psychic in his assumptions, though you knew he’d probably had a nurse do a head-to-toe assessment while you were out.
Mason was puzzled when you looked over at him. “What’s wrong with her leg? She passed out. What’s wrong with her-,”
“Mason, will you go find me some water? And maybe a warm blanket? Please.” Your eyes were locked with Belkar’s as you quieted Mason, mindlessly squeezing his hand to encourage his leave. Mason did not need to see your brand. He wouldn’t understand, and you didn’t feel like having to explain to him, that you felt deserving of it and much worse.
There was a silent moment as you watched Belkar and felt Mason’s eyes before he squeezed your hand back and told you he’d be back soon. The door shut behind him and the quiet swallowed you.
“From what I read in your chart it seemed you’d given yourself a makeshift dressing. Your nurse was actually impressed at how well it was done. I do have some questions about the scars under it, though. If you don’t mind.” He seemed to know to tread lightly; his demeanor reminded you of the one you were instructed to use on abuse survivors.
You shook your head, but this only clued you into another pain. “Jeez! Ow!” Your hand fled to your forehead, finding a bandage sealed over a large bump. It was tender to touch, flinching as you remembered Robbie banging your head into the door.
Belkar took his datapad from under his arm and tapped away as you recovered. “There.” He pressed the screen once more before returning it to its original spot. “The nurse should be in here soon with some-,”
“I don’t want it.” You swallowed, dropping your hand and staring at your lap.
Belkar paused and shifted in his stance. He clicked his tongue, put his datapad down, and pulled up a chair. He called you by your last name, professional yet with a considerable amount of concern. “Will you tell me what caused your injuries?”
He was attempting therapeutic communication. And he was succeeding. An uncomfortable laugh left you. “What is there to tell? I’m hurt. In ways that aren’t physical. Ways that are.” Your lip began to quiver before you caught it with your teeth.
Another pause from Belkar. His hand twitched and your eyes jumped to it. He noticed this. “Can I hold your hand?”
The offer was tempting, but you declined by shaking your head and finally looking up at him. There were crinkles splayed outward from his eyes and gray hairs obvious in an overgrown stubble on his cheeks. He was a kind soul, you could tell; it was evident in his eyes, clear and green yet full of warmth. Soon after setting eyes on him you felt your throat thicken and your eyes water.
“You know,” you laughed, scraping at your eyes and sniffling, “I don’t even know what I’d say to any of the questions you mentioned before.”
A kind smile, no teeth, brought his cheeks up. “How about just one, then?”
“Yeah. One. I guess.”
He made sure your eyes were on his before he spoke again. “Do you want to report the person who did this to you?”
Another nervous laugh left. And then a sob before the heels of your hands met your face. “That’s not necessary,” you said through hiccuped words. Robbie’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, the pool of blood spreading below him before the door hissed shut. Your dream, the screen presenting his smiling face. “I… I don’t even know what to do anymore! I can’t… I have… I can’t fix this!”
Belkar squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. His face was blurry through your tears. “Slow down. Just breathe. Shh. Slow down.” He modeled how to do so, exaggerating when he took a deep breath through his nose.
After several breaths you closed your eyes and threw your head back on the pillow, keeping your hand in Belkar’s. “I’m sure you’ve seen the scars? Or read about them at the least, right? And then I know you were the one who caught me before I passed out so you obviously know who I work for.”
“Are those two things related?” He was trying not to assume anything.
“All that matters is that this—” you gestured to your head “—and this—” you placed a gentle hand over your wrapped thigh, petting a thumb over it “—are unrelated.” Belkar knew not to speak when you choked on your tears in search of words you weren’t even sure you wanted to say. “I was… Someone broke into my residence just before the explosion. And he.” You paused again, feeling Belkar’s grip tighten and relax over your trembling hand. You cleared your throat. “I was taken advantage of. He went down with the base. It would be pointless to report when the perpetrator is already dead.” Bloodied scissors flashed into your memory before you looked back up to Belkar.
He nodded, placing his second hand over yours. The warmth was welcome, and surprising. “Should I order an emergency contraceptive or a spermicide?” There wasn’t a fraction of discomfort when he asked the question. Complete care and professionalism. He felt safe.
“No, I don’t need that. I had a chip placed last year.” You ran your tongue over your teeth, swallowing before speaking again. “But, um. I was wondering if…”
“Yes?”
“Commander Ren,” you said, searching his eyes for judgment, “is he… How is he?” Your bottom lip would need to heal from chewing it so much.
Another warm, small smile lifted on Belkar’s face. “It’s admirable, your passion for his care. Even in your current state. Even with those wounds you only care about his wellbeing.” Fire bit at your face, your eyes falling back to the bed. “It’s the mark of a true healer. Setting aside your own pain to lessen someone else’s. Your patient’s.”
“Yeah, well,” you raised your eyebrows, “do you know how he’s doing?”
“Before I came in to examine you, I was actually on my way to see Commander Ren. Would you like to come with me?”
“I should probably…” You trailed off, finally feeling relief when thinking about seeing Kylo and avoiding Mason. “Do you think I can walk? How did the nurse say I was healing?”
Belkar scooted out from the chair and stood, offering you a hand for support. “I actually would prefer you start walking now to discourage clotting. It’s likely you can leave here tonight once its officially been twenty-four hours since your admission.”
He made sure to fix your gown so you weren’t exposed while standing before you could tie the lower fastener. He kept a hand lightly placed over your mid-back, the other now holding your hand. “How long has it been since I got here?”
He started you on a slow pace and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Robbie may have been the one to die, but death took residence in you; a bruise splotched out over your forehead, your hair flat and knotted, exhaustion shadowing your eyes. There were multiple bruises lining your arms, their origin a mystery, though you could only suspect a majority had come from the crowd of people you’d stormed through the stairwells with. The one injury you’d grown to cherish was masked by the ill-fitting white and grey patterned gown, the article most definitely shielding an additional multitude you were still unaware of.
“The Command Shuttle arrived soon after Starkiller exploded. Ren was transferred to medbay in less than a minute and began treatment within the next five upon arrival. You fainted before then.” He led you into the hall and began walking through the maze of bustling hallways. “You’ve been resting for nearly sixteen hours.”
“Sixteen. Stars.” The pain in your leg lessened the more you walked, seeing the faces of coworkers who last saw you that fateful night.
“We monitored your intracranial pressure for the first few hours, but it seems you were only severely exhausted and mildly dehydrated. Understandably, of course.” He took a familiar left turn and the entrance to the Elite medbay came into view. “I had entered orders to start you on oral antibiotic therapy as soon as you woke up, completely a prophylactic measure, but it won’t affect anything to hold off for now.��
Belkar swiped his badge across the scanner and the doors hissed open, your heart now thumping in your chest. The last time you’d seen Kylo, you’d assumed would be the last time. Even as you kept forward, nerves twisting your intestines, you couldn’t deny the need you felt to see him again. It scared you, though, imagining how he’d react to your presence.
“Um, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t think Commander Ren needs any more visitors than necessary.” You stopped Belkar just before he swiped to open the door to your Master’s exclusive medbay.
“It’s a good thing neither of us are visitors.” The door shot open. “We’re his providers.” Belkar stepped past the threshold. “He wouldn’t mind either way,” you followed in after him, hesitant while you stared down at the floor, “I placed him in a therapeutic coma to keep him from disturbing the stitching in his wounds.”
This news brought your eyes up as you entered the room and felt the door shut behind you. Kylo Ren, outfitted in the same gown as you, was supine on the bed, unconscious. Peaceful. His gown was left unsnapped at the shoulders, a blanket resting above his hips and tucked under his wrists. The assessment table had been replaced, an IV pole set up on his left side, a monitor reading off the contents and status of the three current running fluids: metronidazole, normal saline, and a third – separate – line running a bag of packed red blood cells. Kylo was breathing on his own, though there was an intubation kit ready on the bedside table, you noticed while routinely scanning the room for necessary emergency intervention equipment.
Belkar rid the distance between him and Ren, your own feet stopping just before the door. The physician looked at you with a creased brow but quickly dissolved his expression as he accepted your decision. After setting his datapad down he gently peeled back Kylo’s gown, resting it over the blanket and then gesturing towards him with his hands.
“The coma was a last resort,” he began. “Commander Ren was exhibiting signs of delirium when my team began his care. After nearly two hours of noncompliance I wrote a STAT order to initiate it.” Belkar sighed, this fact disappointing to him.
“When you say delirium…” Your hands strangled in and out of fists, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of your gown while you looked on at your sleeping patient.
The physician’s mouth had settled into somewhat of a pout, considering your question. “Ren’s health history was scattered and scant in the archives, virtually nothing resembling a family history. It was most likely the physical trauma that caused it, but…” Belkar turned his body to you while keeping his eyes on Kylo. “Whenever any of the nurses or techs would attempt to orient him during those first two hours he kept telling us he’s dead.”
A single step took you further from the door. “Was.. Did he ever say who he was talking about? A name?” This information confounded you, leaving you to wonder whose death could possibly matter so much to Kylo Ren that he’d recount while his mental defenses were weakened?
A deeper, more frustrated sigh left Belkar. “There’s been so little time and the staff is already so overworked with all the new admissions.” He uncovered one of Kylo’s legs and checked the placement and setting of the compression device wrapped around it. “I appointed a droid to sift through the archives to find anything, to see if there was any information on a Ben.”
“Ben?”
“That’s who we assume is dead, as he kept repeating.”
“You assume? What does that mean?” Another step and your eyes shot to the vitals monitor, seeing his heart rate was in the low fifties. Bradycardic, hence the fluids.
“The two phrases came sporadically. At times he would say the name, and whenever any of the care team would ask him who Ben was…”
“They’d suddenly be at a loss for words?”
Belkar’s mouth quirked for half a second, falling quickly when he shifted the blanket back to its original place. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He looked at you again, contemplating, narrowing his eyes. “I imagine you’ve endured such acts. I only assume given—” he gestured to your leg.
Heat flared in your cheeks and your pulse picked up. Swallowing, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and crossed your arms. “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know why Kylo Ren had left his mark, only that he had. This brought you ease. “Yes, Commander Ren doesn’t have the best handle on his…anger. I suppose.”
Belkar swallowed, watching you. “Does he scare you?”
This caught you off guard, fingers biting into your arms when you took another step forward. “Does Kylo Ren scare me?” You took a few seconds to really think about it, feeling comfortable when you met Belkar’s eyes again, only a few paces from the bed now. “It would be counterintuitive to be afraid of my own patient.”
“Do you feel safe when you are working with him?” He was subtly attempting to screen you for abuse – well, further abuse – his face trying to hide the curiosity in his tone.
“Doctor Belkar, I do appreciate you’re worried for me. But it is misplaced. Now, would you tell me more about my patient, please?”
He was momentarily taken aback by your forward effort to change the subject. “I do apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable. I noticed your hesitancy to be near him and thought-,”
“That’s unrelated, Doctor,” maybe in too harsh a manner, you bit his words off. You didn’t feel like telling the edited version of how you believed yourself to be the abuser when it came to Kylo, and you were sure Belkar, just as Mason, wouldn’t understand if you tried. “Will you please just tell me how he’s been doing?” A crack in your voice revealed how weak your defenses were.
The physician’s head nodded back slightly in understanding. Today was good for no one. Tensions were high. He knew you had just woken up after experiencing both known and unknown traumas. “Would you help me change his dressings while we discuss his care?” A truce, gentle and acknowledging.
Your shoulders fell with a breath you hadn’t realized was waiting to escape, your throat clearing when you walked to the drawers set up behind you. Activating one, you pulled out the necessary supplies and set them up as Belkar opened them. He walked you through the various monitors connected to Kylo – leeds stuck to his chest, a cuff around his upper right arm, the pumps over his legs, the IVs placed. He uncovered Ren’s pelvis and had you assess his catheter, mentioning the drainage bag below the bed. The antibiotics were prophylactic, just as yours would be; there had been too many unknowns around Ren’s injuries to not protect against potential sepsis.
When Belkar had completed his assessment – stopping to listen to breath and bowel sounds, motioning for you to do the same with the provided stethoscope to test your knowledge – you helped him fix the gown and sheets back over Kylo’s chest, your breath catching when your fingers brushed against his skin. The doctor tucked his datapad back under his arm and walked to the door, activating it before stepping out. However, you had remained at Kylo’s side, watching him as he slept.
“Doctor Belkar?” you called after him, not looking away from Kylo.
A sigh left him, this one fond. Kind. “A true healer.” He was thoughtful in tone. “Use the assistance indicator should you become faint. Should your friend inquire about your whereabouts-,”
“Tell him I’m okay—” you licked your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek “—tell Mason he can leave if he… Tell Mason he can leave.”
There was no response before the door hissed shut, allowing you to let free the whimper which had been stuck since you first set eyes on Kylo. You realized you’d never seen him asleep. The one night you’d shared his bed your focus just on that fact, not on observing him. That night had been the only time you’d seen his full heart, or at least more of it than you had. Now, standing beside him, still reluctant to get too close, you were crying just as he had. That night seemed like a separate lifetime, like a dream you’d only ever get to revisit in your memories now.
Tearing your eyes away from him, clearing your throat and thumbing away more tears, you ran your fingertips along the hanging fluids; the saline would need to be replaced soon, and the metronidazole was running at an accelerated rate. The blood, you checked the label, had been hung just prior to your arrival, the colloid causing you to stop and gently press into its plastic confines. A huff of weak amusement left you; it had never occurred to you that this blood would ever be used for its intended purpose, intended recipient. Seeing it running into Kylo’s veins, checking the transfusion sight for infiltration and redness, you felt a sort of sick irony settle into the room. This very fluid, more or less, would be your demise; it was capable of sustaining life, replenishing it, yet would be the very thing to end yours.
The monitor blinked in your periphery, catching your attention; his heart rate was improving, finally skimming the upper fifties, his respirations coming evenly. Steeling yourself, bunching your gown in your hands, you looked down at him. Kylo Ren, resting and vulnerable, lay below for your appraisal. Belkar had walked you through the proper routine to change his dressings, his abdominal wound and the one scraping across his shoulder healing well under the soaked gauze. The wound fixed along his face, however, had been created too awkwardly to be dressed as the others. A grafting patch had been placed along the length of the injury, a black stripe of the regenerative material precise in its placement.
There was so much pain etched into him, you wondered if his outward appearance now matched his inner, the thought choking you with a sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was silly to wait for a response, to look at him in anticipation, but you did.
It took several minutes of deliberation, but you eventually joined him in the bed, gently sitting on his right side as to not disturb anything. The tips of your right index and middle finger trailed along the ridges of the unbandaged wound, feeling his pulse in the raised flesh, landing on his forehead and brushing into his hair.
“Oh.” It startled you when your fingers got stuck in a mat at his ends. Rolling it between your fingers you found it to be dried, congealed blood. It wasn’t surprising; hair care was not the priority right now, the nurses already straining themselves without paying attention to trivial duties.
But you had time and he was here with no way of objecting, your hand cupping his face before you began gathering your supplies and setting them up. The silence was comforting for only a few minutes, soon leaving you to your thoughts, those which shuddered through you with images of Robbie and Snoke and Kylo.
“I don’t even know how we got here,” you mumbled while filling a basin with warm water. A bitter chuckle, a cough chasing it. “I do, actually. I know exactly how we got here.” Placing the full basin on the bedside table, carefully wheeling it to the head of his bed, you gazed over him. “Snoke. Mason. Rob-,” the name stuck in your throat. “The stormtrooper.”
Gentle thumbs tracked like feathers atop his cheekbones, your remaining fingers pushing into his thick locks and brushing it behind his ears. After admiring him for a moment longer you collected the necessary linen, grabbing three extra towels, four in total. Setting them up – one beneath him, another two rolled and resting atop his shoulders, and the last spread over your lap when you sat on a stool – you reached for the cup you’d earlier grabbed and filled it with water.
“I should’ve told you.” It seemed you would never stop crying; a tear struck his forehead as you poured the first cup over his head, ensuring to guard his eyes and ears. “I never… Snoke threatened Mason. He threatened him and all I could think was that I wouldn’t allow someone else to endure punishment meant for me.” Kylo’s hair darkened as it wet, the towel beneath him turning pink with diluted blood. “That wouldn’t be fair. Someone suffering because my own mistakes? No. No, that would be selfish. Selfish and, and… I don’t know.” A sigh and a swallow. “I don’t know.”
With a second cup you wet the rest of his locks and lathered shampoo between your hands. “I woke up yesterday hating you, wishing I was dead so I didn’t have to see you after that day. I fucking hate him so much!” Your chin trembled in anger, imagining Snoke knowing this was happening, wondering how much he really knew, if he could see while Kylo slept. “And it wasn’t even… That’s what I hate the most. You had so little say in it, so little choice and I spent a whole month, wasted so much time, hating the wrong person. Hating you.”
Rolling his ends between your fingers, you scrubbed at the mats until they became loose. “I wish you could know that everything I told you was a lie. You were right about it all. I don’t hate you.” Words came easier, tears still streaming with ease, yet your throat clearing with each admission. “Maybe in the beginning when I didn’t know so much, when I didn’t know you. Maybe then I had wanted to, but it’s an impossibility now. Today made me realize that.” A pause while you watched his chest tide, stopping to recount the apology you’d known to give him, remembering how it felt as he held you – broken, raw – in his arms. “Today made me realize a lot of things.”
The last mat had been the toughest, your fingers rolling and rubbing for nearly five minutes until it softened. “Can I… I mean, I know you can’t answer, but…” Your throat got thick again, burning as you tried to swallow a sob. Closing your eyes, you dropped the subject, not wanting to recount the event to even an absent mind yet.
Clearing your throat, you began again, instead recalling the various mentions of Kylo Ren’s history during the past day. “Maybe I don’t know as much about you as others do, though.” Water drenched the towel below his head as you massaged the soap out of his hair, your pulse quickening as you thought about your next question. “The old man. The one on Jakku… He mentioned something about a time before Kylo Ren, or something like that. How did he even know you? How did you know him?”
Working your way through his hair, you rinsed until there were no bubbles remaining. Questioning him felt foreign; if he were awake he would have surely stopped you from continuing. Or from starting at all. But you pressed on, wanting to distract yourself from the reality that lurked in the back of your mind.
“And then later, when I…” Warmth spread through you at the memory of his bed, him setting you there, holding onto him until he left. You tried to hide the pain in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to sob once you’d surely lose the ability to stop. “I heard you. When you were speaking to someone, talking to your grandfather. Was he in there with you? Or were you on a commlink?” You shrugged, knowing all of these inquiries were in vain. “My maternal grandfather passed away before I began university. I never met the other one. Something about family secrets and drama and blah blah blah.”
Another tear fell to Kylo’s face, remembering the pain you’d felt losing someone for the first time, remembering how helpless you were to change anything. A sigh of desperate defeat left you. “I must be cursed. A true healer? Maybe in another life. In this one it seems I can only save a life in turn for another, be it mine or someone I care about.”
After rinsing your hands in the basin, you gathered conditioner on the tips of your fingers and began working it into the now clean ends. A whimper came in place of the stuck sob, breathing becoming difficult as you denied it life. “You said that to me, remember? The night I had gone to Mason. Not exactly but, you said something along the lines of me only listening when the things I value are threatened. It seems the two things go hand in hand; I can’t help anyone without hurting someone else, I can’t make a decision without being forced into it, without being threatened should I make one wrong choice.”
A hand smoothed over the last remaining tendril of hair, soft with the new product, your chest heavy with regret and hindsight. “You wanted me to give my whole self to the First Order. I did, Kylo. And now… I have nothing. There’s nothing left and it’s my fault.” Mason’s worried expression flitted into your mind’s eye. “And if I do have anything left… It’s nothing I want.” Closing your eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb along the rim of the cup, clutching it to your chest. “I wish I could go back. Earlier when I… When I came home. I wish I had told you then. If I had, maybe neither of us would be pawns in Snoke’s game. If I’d told you, maybe I wouldn’t have been-,”
Pain speared you with daggers of rejection. There was no easy or gentle way to confront the truth. No matter if you’d briefly mentioned it with Belkar earlier; to verbalize it, to say out loud what had gone one, scared you. It made it real, gave it power and life. But this would be the only way you’d get to confess to it; soon you’d be alone, left to relive the act over and over until it would be all that remained. It would consume you if you let it.
“I was raped.” You said it before it got stuck again. Finally, after choking on it for so long, that sob broke free, cries grating against your sore throat. “It was the stormtrooper. The one you’d set out to protect me from. The one Snoke had told me you’d been thinking about.” A shaky hand collected another cup of water and let it rinse the conditioner away. “RB-6745. Robbie. Shit! I’m so, so stupid! I’m so dumb I wish I could fucking die! It would be so much easier if I could just stop…existing, if I could just stop breathing it would all be- none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t- damn it!” A roar tore through clenched teeth before you dragged the towel set across your lap and smothered it against your face.
Scream after scream after scream left you, each one more painful than the last, more broken than the last. The towel collected what tears had set on your cheeks, your voice diminishing before you had the sense to stop yourself from continuing. With the damp cloth draped over your hands, you rested your head in your palms, heaves and hiccups unbidden and unrelenting.
“I gave him a name, Kylo. I did. I gave him a name and I started all of this,” muffled, you finally confronted the truth you had been so unwilling to acknowledge. A bitter crack of laughter left. “You will only ever be the start and end of the issue,” you echoed Snoke, voice distant and decimated. “Yeah, well. I guess he was right. I did start it.” Pulling the towel from your face, staring down at the peace painted over your Master, a cold shiver stalled your lungs. “I started it. And I ended it.”
Silence once more met you with suffocation. Studying Kylo’s face – noticing his eyelashes, the cracked nature of his dry lips, finding a fondness in the angle of his nose – you took a deep breath and settled into your new reality, accepting it as it would be, allowing yourself to begin healing as he was before you. “I killed him. I left him to bleed out just before Starkiller exploded. He’s dead.”
The last phrase reminded you as you finished your task, patting the towel into his hair, lifting his head to fully dry him. “Whoever Ben is… and if he’s dead or not –” you rested the towel over your left thigh “—I wonder if I knew him.” Another thought of Kylo’s figurative family. “I wonder if he knew you.”
Once you left here your privileges as his provider would be revoked; when he would wake and sign the proper documents, notify the necessary people, every tie you had to him would be severed. So, to indulge in one last moment, you parted a triangle of hair from the center of his hairline, separated it into three equal sections, and began the simple pattern: left over middle, right over middle, adding hair with each repetition to create a continuous, tight braid. Aside from giving you more time with him, the style would discourage any new mats from forming.
Repeating this process two more times, one more on each side of his head, you made sure that the hair that couldn’t be contained was brushed and flat beneath him. You set a towel under his head to collect any remaining moisture and prevent knotting. The clean-up process was leisurely, your focus shifting to his monitor every now and then to see he was no longer bradycardic. The last time you checked the monitor, a normal sinus rhythm tracing along the display, you found his pulse had risen to sixty-seven beats per minute.
Finished clearing the last of your mess, you sat on the stool, still at the head of his bed. No matter the new addition setting into features – though, in a way, it suited him well – you admired him; here he was at peace. Resting. Healing. The sobs had died out but tears were still liberal in their formation, another falling to hit the inner corner of his right eye. You collected it, chewing your lip before leaning down and again tracing along the outer region of the wound.
Kylo’s breath warmed over your forehead in the proximity, your own catching as it all became too much. Placing your hands on either side of his face so the tips of your fingers held loosely over his jaw, you brought your lips to rest on his. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate it, you knew, but this would be your goodbye.
“I wish I could have given you more than this,” you whispered, lips brushing against his own. “More than anything, Kylo, I wanted to give you more than this.”
Trembling lips pressed into his, your tears reviving the dry flesh, a whimper leaving when he remained still. He would never kiss you back again, the thought piercing as warmth slipped from your cheeks and onto his. However long you stayed like this, your face on his, you tried to silence the reality looming over you. But you couldn’t stay here forever, and you’d probably been gone for far too long already.
Leaning up from him your nose drew a faint line up his bridge, feather-light lips setting against his forehead in a final show of unrequited adoration. With a breath your spine straightened, eyes strict in their effort to keep forward. There was no moment of hesitancy as you passed the threshold and left the Elite wing; if you had indulged in a final glance, you knew you’d have never left.
On the journey back to your room – head hung low, teeth rooted in an effort to stop the trembling of your bottom lip – you met a stiff wall of muscle as someone exited a room, your feet stumbling back before you completely fell backwards, landing on your tailbone. The room spun when you opened your eyes after hitting the floor, a gloved hand extending down and offering you assistance. Taking it, you looked up to find General Hux.
He looked as you did, exhaustion heavy in his features before he was struck by your identity. He didn’t recoil, though, pulling you up and even steadying you for a couple seconds. Hux’s eyes darted to the bandage on your forehead and quickly over your gown, narrowing only slightly when he appraised the red rims of your own. He remained silent, retracting his hand as he nodded once.
“Officer,” he acknowledged. “I heard about your fainting spell.” His tone lacked the animosity you had come to expect.
You took hold of the wall support, looking up at him, confused at his sudden civility. “Oh.” It was the best you could do right now.
Something about him seemed off. Even as he remained more guarded than most humans you knew, it appeared as though something had him worried. Maybe it was the fall out from Starkiller that had him acting out. He had just lost men.
“Is there an official count yet?” you asked, filling the silence.
Hux swallowed, the corners of his mouth dipping before he returned to his normal façade, his shoulder going up and back when his stance shifted. “Nice work during the transport.”
“Thank…you. Uh, thank you, General.”
Another nod and he turned away from you and walked out of sight. A crease bit at your brow. How strange. Or maybe it wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been less than favorable for the entire First Order. Nobody could be expected to be at their best right now. Or even at their normal.
Before you started down the hall, your periphery caught view of the room where Hux had come, your heart falling. Confusion was drowned by new concern. Talia was slumped into her shoulder, asleep while she sat upright, both arms resting at her sides to reveal bruises from multiple IV attempts. There was one line running from her left forearm which led up to a bag of fluids, the contents of which you couldn’t read from a distance.
Peaking around the hall, you ducked into her room and clicked the door shut with your back, keeping the volume to a minimum as to not wake her. It seemed like a week had passed since you saw her seize, Snoke’s men abducting you before you could aid in her care. It had been less than a full day.
Walking up to her right side you noted the oxygen secured over her ears, a nasal cannula delivering two liters per minute. Nothing excessive. That was good. But still curious. The fluid bag was filled with electrolyte replacement, another bag hanging empty behind it. Looking for more clues, you found the information board to be devoid of any recent updates, only indicating her nurse and the continuation of the current fluids. There was a check mark next to a note which read sterile urine specimen, CBC, CMP.
When you kicked your foot under her bed, swinging it mindlessly while holding onto the upper bed rail, something skidded beneath your sock. In a manner which didn’t stress your wounds, you knelt to the ground and picked up the item. It was a white square, shiny material which glinted under the harsh fluorescents. Holding one corner, it unfolded to reveal a second half. Turning it over, eyes blinking back to make sure you were reading the images correctly.
Everything was in the right spot, every label and measurement and identifier correct and official. Dropping completely to the floor, your legs splayed across each other, you peaked up at your friend and back to the printed picture multiple times, not knowing what to make of the situation.
Talia was pregnant.
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Rosalinda and the dragon by Karim Khayal
Resting at the foot of a large forest sat a small village called Puffington. It was the most peaceful village you could imagine, a village with little smoking chimneys, tiny but lovingly decorated houses, a beautiful cozy little marketplace and even a town house with a fat rosy- cheeked mayor. In this town called Puffington lived the hero of our story, an ordinary man called Luke. Luke wasn’t a hero like in the classical stories of old, a hero with shining colorful armor, a handsome moustache and a large sharp sword glistening in the morning sun. In fact, Luke was nothing like you might imagine a hero to be. He was just an old little man with deep dimples in his cheeks, bushy eyebrows and a mop of unruly white hair. He didn’t hear very well and the once bulgy muscles in his arms had turned into old man pudding. Every Saturday the people of Puffington would see Luke slowly shuffle through the market place, picking a fruit here, discarding a worm-eaten apple there and bargaining with the savvy market people. The market people knew Luke very well and with a little smile hidden in the corners of their mouth, they would gently pretend to be bargaining hard while always (well, most of the time) giving into Luke’s bargaining price. They did this because Luke was well loved in Puffington, especially by its children. Oh, the stories he could tell! Stories about deep and wide oceans, fairy queens and walrus kings, pirate treasure and ancient grizzled giants living in deep icy mountain caves. Though he was certainly not a classical hero, Luke was indeed the hero of Puffington’s children, an old gentle hero with an endless supply of stories and home-made (it had been his mother’s secret recipe) ice frosted chocolate pudding. Many nights the children would sit around Luke’s rocking chair, while burning logs sizzled and cracked in the old chimney and the old secretive grandfather clock made tick-tock tick-tock…dang dang. Even the striped neighborhood cat would gently purr along to Luke story. Now and then the cry of the old owl living in the large willow tree in Luke’s garden would make the children jump up in fright, but Luke’s soothing voice would always pull them back in to the adventure of his story. It was after all only a story.
Even though the people in Puffington thought that they knew everything about old Luke there was to know, Luke had kept one secret hidden away all his life. It was a secret he kept locked away in a little box inside his heart, where it was safe from prying eyes. The secret was that Luke was still madly in love with his neighbor Rosalinda. Rosalinda had been Luke’s childhood friend since the time he had been a wee lad with ruddy cheeks, a stick in his hand and a chocolate smeared mouth. They had grown up together, caught frogs and salamanders in the forest-creeks together, climbed hills and trees together, howled at the moon together and had shared many secrets while clutching hands on the forest swing. Rosalinda’s hair had been red like fire burning in the chimney, with a beautifully freckled face and a gap-toothed smile that shone like the sun on a beautiful spring morning. Growing into a young man, Luke had come to love Rosalinda more each year, his heart melting at the mere sight of her. She had grown into a beautiful and lively young woman, possessing the deep roaring laughter of a melon farmer, the thin long legs of a Gazelle and short fingers as quick and strong as those of a monkey. She had indeed been a very special person and love-smitten Luke had known it.
One sunny afternoon, Luke had finally confessed his love to Rosalinda. They had been sitting together on a green meadow, enjoying the warm sun while happily talking about this and that when Luke took a deep breath and found the courage to ask beautiful Rosalinda to marry him. Rosalinda had jumped up suddenly and looked at him with surprise. Luke remembered squinting from the bright sun searing into his eyes, trying to read Rosalinda’s expression. Why are you telling me this now? she had asked him in surprise and he had answered honestly that he was in love with her and everything that she was, that he loved the way she laughed from the bottom of her heart, that she was better than his morning coffee, dearer to him than his favorite chocolate and butter croissant and that she was the first thought that crossed his mind when he woke up and the last thought when he went to sleep. After an awfully silent but also deeply hopeful moment, she had made it clear that she was not in love with him and could in fact never fall in love with a friend as close and as cherished as he was. It was then that a little cog in the machinery of Luke’s heart had made clack! slowing down time till it felt like it was in the grips of a pair of hot thongs. But I love you Rosalinda! he had managed to stutter after his poetic confession had failed to move her even one bit. Look Luke, she had answered harshly, you mean more to me than you will ever understand. You are my friend. I love you, but not in the way you want. Please, please understand that. You will always be the little boy I looked up to when we were both small, my best friend and partner in crime. This is the only kind of love I can give you. She had bend down and given him a kiss on the cheek. Disappointment and hurt had turned out to be stronger than the beating heart of love and he had angrily stood up, ignoring the equal hurt on the freckled face he loved so much. On that beautiful summer day, he had stomped off without a further word, leaving her standing alone on a seemingly endless green meadow. Love had turned into pain and now pain had turned into bitter memory, while time caused the glow of their youth to disappear beneath wrinkled skin and scooped backs.
Despite the fact that she was now an old white-haired woman with white hair and a sagging bosom, Luke still loved Rosalinda. Despite that, he had continued to ignore her, even though Rosalinda had tried to remain friends, throwing rocks at his window at night, tackling him from behind with her typical roaring laughter and even pelting the back of his head with little scribbled notes. He had made up to punish her for the hurt she had caused him and he had convinced himself that she had intentionally and callously caused him pain, that she in fact neither deserved his attention nor his friendship. Over time even loyal Rosalinda had given up in trying to keep their long-cherished friendship alive. The unremitting hands of time had then then slowly severed the human bond between them, pushing them both on to different branches on the ever-growing tree of time. Rosalinda had opened a little grocery store which Luke never dared to enter, while he had spent his work life as a gendarme in a beautiful blue uniform. They had grown old next to each other, while no longer knowing each other. She had married a man from outside the village and as far as Luke knew, they had had a happy but a childless marriage. Once her husband died, Rosalinda continued to live alone in her white two-story house with the beautiful apple garden. They would still pass each other now and then, with both pretending not to remember and wishing each other a polite good morning or a pleasant afternoon. Then one fateful day, a day as beautiful as the day Luke had his heart broken by red-haired Rosalinda, the dragon arrived.
Those citizens of Puffington who saw the dragon flying high above the roofs of the village, described it as having two horns the size of scimitars, brightly colored scales and wings measuring at least 20 feet each. Nobody knew exactly why the massive dragon had decided to settle in the mountains near Puffington, since the last a time a dragon had been sighted near Puffington was about a 100 years ago. Perhaps, they thought, it wanted to feast on the herds of sheep that grazed on the luscious green fields nearby. Some of the old and wise people told stories about old and weary dragons returning to the place where they had once hatched from an egg. The dragon, they whispered, had returned one final time to breath its final breath at the cradle of its birth. Nobody really knew for sure though. This was because dragons were highly mysterious creatures and as you can imagine, people were far too afraid to approach a living fire breathing dragon and ask it politely why it had decided to arrive now and then. The thought of the scaled and winged monster living so close to them, kept the people of Puffington awake at night. At the distant roar of the dragon, the people of Puffington huddled with fright beneath their blankets. They were so scared that they only occasionally peeped up from beneath the blanket, imagining the dragon hungrily staring through their window. Of course, dragons like all living things, need to eat and nobody was surprised that a short while after the dragon had arrived, cows, sheep and even horses began to disappear. Despite its feasting on the animals grazing nearby, the dragon had at first shown little interest in Puffington and its human inhabitants. The whispered rumors of dragons being vicious man-eaters seemed not to be that true after all. People breathed a sigh of relieved and hoped that the dragon would soon move along to wherever dragons go when they have filled their big green bellies with sheep and cows. Then old Rosalinda disappeared, while picking ripe berries at the outer edge of the thick surrounding forest. The only thing left behind was a half-filled basket of red berries. People knew that the fiendish dragon was responsible, as the trees near the basket were charred black by the enormous heat of dragon breath. The hungry dragon had snatched poor helpless Rosalinda and, if by miracle she was still alive in the dragon’s cave, there was nothing that could be done to save her. The tiny village of Puffington was now in a stage of high panic, with people packing all their belongings into and onto their horse-carriages and ox-wagons. They decided to flee a village they regarded as ultimately doomed. Even though the rosy cheeked mayor tried to calm down the frightened citizens of Puffington, seemingly nothing could be done to calm their fears. The mayor ordered a brave watch on the outskirts of the village and forbad people from approaching the mountain from within a half-mile radius. After the frightened people asked the mayor how a curfew could possibly hold back a hungry dragon the size of house, even the rosy cheeked mayor turned pale and fell silent for lack of good words. The only thing he managed to say was that it was better after all to keep calm and not to panic. He was sure that the dragon would soon get bored from eating so many sheep and forever leave the cold dreary mountains near Puffington.
When Luke heard that Rosalinda had been snatched by the dragon, he made up his mind now and then that he would have to save Rosalinda from the beast, cost it what it may. It would be the story of his redemption. He would do it to redeem the years of silence that had passed between them. He would do it for the love that had severely bend but not completely broken under the weight of time. This would most like be the final act of courage in his life, a fitting and honorable end if there ever was one. Considering that he knew nothing about fighting dragons, Luke realized that he needed to read everything he could find in the shortest time possible. He also realized that he needed to arm himself if he was even going to have a nick of a chance against the ferocious beast. One thing that seemed to be certain was that the dragon wouldn’t drop dead at the sight of an old scrawny man coming to fight it, perhaps only from laughing so hard that its fire lungs would burst. The first task proved to be exceedingly difficult as all the books Luke found in Puffington’s local library, were full of nonsensical stories of valiant knights, exotically named swords and beautiful long-haired damsels locked in tall towers. Nonsense, such nonsense he would continually mumble to himself while desperately turning page after page. Where was all the scientific literature when you needed it? Only one book by an author called Hermonius The Traveler, an author whose name he found mentioned in the dragon section of “The Guide to mythical Creatures”, caught his interest. In the book, a memoir and travel description, Hermonius described how during his travels in the east he had heard strange whimpering, hissing and snorting sounds coming from somewhere above a mountain ridge. Hermonius then decided to climb the rocky ledge in order to discover the source of the mysterious sounds. The paragraph read as follows:
“Having strained myself arduously in order to locate the puzzling sound emitted by the mysterious creature, my eager mind was bursting with the anticipation of knowledge and the discovery of the unknown. Imagine dear and beloved reader my astonishment at finding a nest of dragon hatchlings! Here my eyes were gazing upon a creature of lore, a beast of legend and myth! In truth, I quickly grasped that the dragon of the beloved fairy tale, the murderous beast of old wife’s tales battling knights and ravaging cities, a beast so hideous and ferocious that eyes could not gaze on it too long for fear of being blinded by its hideous contours, were indeed far from the truth. The dragon hatchlings I had found were as colorful as the fish in Gods wide oceans, shimmering and shining like a thousand scaled stars. I counted four of them, not being able to determine their sex due to my clear lack of expertise. Like the litter of the common Felis Catus, they huddled amongst each other for comfort and warmth. The vulnerable state of the beasts stood in stark contrast to the demonic nature commonly ascribed to them by legend. I felt a rush of pity, having produced a dried piece of meat from my pocket which they then hungrily devoured, fighting amongst themselves for the best scraps. Their familiar yet bewildering behavior was indeed a wonder to behold! For many hours I sat there on that ledge, fixated by the wondrous nature of the creatures, unbeholden to the danger of what would occur if per chance the mother of the dragon hatchlings returned from her foraging. It was then that the strangest thought occurred to me and my mind seemed overtaken by a singular wish and purpose. It was the sudden, yet inexplicable urge, to gather one of the hatchlings back with me and bring henceforth back to human civilization, with the further purpose of conducting enquiries upon its marvelous nature. I thought to myself that this creature, having only the size of a large rabbit, would not pose much danger to my wellbeing and would therefore be quite easily captured. I then decided that I would firmly grasp a dragon and carry him safely within my knapsack, which was wide and spacious enough to contain necessary items on my quest. But first I needed to empty the knapsack of belongings in order to find accommodation for the yelping little beast. Quickly I littered the mountain ledge with my appliances, keeping only the pig leather gloves which I proceed to wear for fear of the dragon hatchling scalding my hands with its fiery breath. After having done, so I hurriedly approached the nest. It was then that the strangest and most astonishing thing happened. Having stretched out my hand towards the dragon hatchling I had decided upon and upon my attempt to place my hand firmly beneath its scaly belly, the dragon suddenly opened its mouth and with a snarling childlike voice uttered the word “mother” and again “mother”, not stopping and repeating the word over and over again till suddenly his siblings joined in the chorus of “mother, mother”. Shocked and in utter astonishment at the miracle I was witnessing, I stumbled backwards, almost tumbling down the ledge and holding myself from doing so only with great restrain. You must understand dear reader, that later that at this point I did not try to venture again into the dragon den, as my shock caused me such terror that it took me much time to again reconcile myself to reality. When many weeks later I took it upon myself, finding the courage within the deepest part of myself, to visit the dragon den I found it empty. From this day, though I spent many a sleepless night remembering the miracle I was fortunate enough to behold on that fateful day, I never again had the blessing of coming upon another miracle of that caliber.”
Strangely enough, Hermonius never seemed to mention the experience in the other travelogues that Luke scoured for information. Looking for further biographical information on the author, the only other entry that Luke could find about Hermonius was a small entry in “The Standard Encyclopedia of Travel Writers”. It read:
“Hermonius Looms, also known as Hermonius the Traveler, a seventeenth century Adventurer, Naturalist and Memoirist). Born to Joseph Looms and Lamia Looms in Puffington. Early studies of Alchemy, Orientalism and then Natural Sciences. Traveled widely throughout Laposia, Monzanie and Asidinia. Mysteriously vanished near Puffington forest. Among his works are “Journey through Arsidina”, Laposia: There and Back again” and “Wonders and Mysteries of the Natural World”. Also known for one of the very few descriptions of dragons (though many of his descriptions and alleged eye-witness accounts are highly contested today and considered fictious at best).”
Realizing that time was running out and that he would not find much more useful information about dragons, Luke decided to focus on the second part of his mission. It was now time to arm himself. The only weapons that Luke could lay his hands on were the pistol that he had inherited from his grandfather and the polished gendarme sabre which proudly decorated the wall of his home. Those would be his only weapons. Luke knew that he also needed some sort of armor. He thought about all the stories of armor-clad knight, thinking to himself that those knights would have been better suited coming completely naked to a fight with a dragon. This sort of metal armor would very quickly turn a valiant handsome knight into a delicious (for a dragon at least) spit roast. Since he himself did not know if there actually was any armor that could provide protection against dragon teeth or dragon breath, Luke resorted to the only material that was close at hand. Luke spent the next day’s cutting up his cherished leather furniture and scouring Puffington’s garbage heap for discarded leather boots, all the while stitching and knitting the scavenged leather together into something that could be worn for armor. Working day and night, Luke barely ate and drank till he finished stitching together his make shift uniform. After having finally finished with his task, Luke looked at himself in the mirror and even felt a tinge of pride gazing at the padded leather suit covering his arms, legs and torso, in addition to a leather cap which could be tied together under the shin with strings attached on both sides. He now was the oldest and most likely the worst prepared warrior ever to face a dragon, but the time had come to show the dragon the undefeatable spirit of an old Puffington gendarme.
The night his rescue mission was to begin, Luke only slept a little. He got up very early in the morning, more determined than he had ever been in life. He put on his leather armor, plucked the pistol into his belt and inserted the sabre into a self-made leather holster. Luke went quietly out the door, gently closing it as not to draw any attention. At the clicking of the closing door, Luke was suddenly overcome with sadness. He stared motionless at the house in which he had lived his entire life and he knew, the way only a person with a very long and full life could know, that there was always a last time and that this time had probably now come. Goodbye dear sweet home, he said, turning his back on the only home he had ever known. Any person secretly watching Luke would have scratched his or her head at the strange sight of the old man dressed in a badly stitched and worn-out leather costume and armed with a sabre and a pistol. There was however nobody to watch as the streets of Puffington were empty, with only the occasional brave cat pacing its empty alleys, perhaps looking for a wayward mouse. Perhaps. Cats are mysterious creatures after all.
Luke hurried up the empty streets, all the while not looking back till, he reached the outer edges of the village. He didn’t have a particularly good idea of where the dragon was possibly hiding itself. He thought of a particularly large and very deep mountain cave, which he had explored as a child and had almost got lost in many times. This cave was one the few caves large enough to hold and hide a dragon. When Luke reached the edge of the dark simmering forest, something strange began happening to him. He started remembering. He remembered himself playing in the forest as a child, how new and mysterious everything had been back then. Every hollow tree, every hidden corner and every sound had been a source of endless adventure and intrigue. Once he had even caught a glimpse of a family of forest trolls, scurrying away after they caught sight of him. Now it seemed like many memories he had forgotten since that painful sunny day many moons ago were coming back again, filling him with the scent of lost long youth and a drenching sense of memory that he didn’t know he still possessed. There was the tree under which he and Rosalinda discovered the fox burrow with its writhing and whimpering red litter! There was that rock behind which they had hidden after smashing the shop window of Mr.Papdopolo with a ball! How they had giggled at the sight of the angry portly man calling out for them in anger. Oh, the memories! Overcome with emotions of a life long gone, Luke’s wrinkled knees buckled and he sat down on a rock, closing his eyes for a brief moment. With his eyes closed, he absorbed the surrounding forest like a hungry sponge. He suddenly realized that he had been purposely avoiding this sense of being for the largest part of life. He had been so hurt by Rosalinda’s rejection, that he decided to close himself off all the while growing older. Now he had been given a sort of second chance. Dragon I am coming for you, Luke growled menacingly, reaching for the pistol tucked into his belt. You may be a big as house, but I am determined and I will find you.
Walking through the ever-darkening forest, Luke was finding it more and more difficult to see clearly. He realized now that he wasn’t the young energetic boy he had once been. The closed space of the forest and rustle and sounds of mysterious creature were indeed overwhelming for an old man like himself. He was beginning to feeling weary when the forest suddenly gave way to a clearing, stretching itself out like a green blanket. In the far distance it gently caressed the seams of the continuing forest. In between them was a green oasis of grass, outstretched like a soft welcoming blanket. Luke found it strange how the darkness of the forest had made him think of permanent night, a night which all of a sudden turned to bright daylight. If memory served him right, the mountain at the edge of the forest was still about 80 miles away. Of course, he was no longer young and the trek was most certainly going to take him longer. As children, Luke and Rosalinda had discovered a grassy pathway stretching itself upon the mountain, breaking here and there, but then flourishing again a bit further around a ledge extending upwards, always within their reach and requiring only a little climbing skill. The grassy path had been like a directing compass towards the large and silent crave. If the path was still there, he would reach it with some effort. He was, after all, only an old man in ridiculous self-made armor. An old man who wanted to kill a dragon with a relic of a pistol. In truth he had never fired a single shot in his life. If the pistol isn’t enough then I also have a sabre, he thought to himself, smiling grimly as he proceeded to walk across the meadow toward where the forest continued and darkness would again envelop him.
Following the grassy path turned out to be more difficult than expected. He had set his eyes forwards towards the trees, ignoring the rocks, small holes and branches that were strewn all over the meadow. Luke suddenly stumbled and pain shot through his body like a thousand little needles. It had happened. Old age had indeed caught up with him. Clutching his injured foot, Luke howled like a wolf. The pain was almost too much too bear and he waited for it to abate. After the pulsating pain had calmed down a little, Luke began to think of ways to mend his twisted ankle. He, of course, had no medical supplies and the only thing he could do was to cut of some strips of leather with his sabre, a thing that proved very difficult since he had to stand on his good leg and balance himself like a stork. When he managed to cut of some pieces of leather, he wrapped them around his ankle. Having made his makeshift bandage, Luke began to gather some dry branches scattered throughout the grass. I am indeed lucky that there are branches lying near me at all, he thought to himself. He searched through his pockets for his old and trusted firestone, something which he of course had brought along and after many tries managed to turn a tiny spark into a beautiful sparkling fire. Now with night slowly approaching, this fire felt incredibly warm and comforting. The sizzling branches brought back memories and his old man head conjured up pictures of the rumbunctious little boy he had once been. He smiled, even forgetting the pain in his foot for a little while. He was beginning to nod off, when he was awoken by a strange scratching and huffing sound. Somebody, or something, was clearly speaking in a strange husky voice. He couldn’t understand the words though. Trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes, he couldn’t make out very much in the dusk. Luke pulled the pistol out from his belt.
Hello? Is anybody there? he called out. I am armed to the teeth and ready for combat! Do not approach me if you have ill intentions!
The voices stopped for a moment and then Luke heard the scruffy sounding voice again, this time calling out to somebody. Luke carefully pulled out a large burning log from the fire, its embers scattering like fire flies. The flames of the log lit up the shadowy veil of dusk and not far away from his fire, he saw two forest trolls. The trolls were about the size of a five-year-old child and had on tattered looking clothes. They had large ears, a large bulbous nose and the fire reflected in their equally large eyes. One of them held a shovel in his hand. They had dug up something from the ground, which looked like a small wooden chest. When they saw that Luke had woken up and was staring at them, one of the trolls picked up a branch and began growling at Luke in its foreign troll language. It lifted the branch above its head, as if intending to charge Luke with it. The trolls growling noised suddenly stopped when it saw Luke’s pistol pointed straight at it. Somehow, the troll seemed to know what a pistol was and what it could do.
That’s right, Luke growled back at the troll. Bugger right off, or I’ll put a hole right through your nasty troll belly.
The other troll threw the small shovel in the direction of Luke. With a metallic sounding clang, it landed near the fire. The shovel throwing troll quickly picked up the little chest and grunted something to its friend, who growled at Luke one last time before both hobbled off into the darkness. Luke breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the pistol back into his belt. This night there is going to be no sleep, he thought to himself. Despite trying to stay awake, Luke could not resist the encroachment of sleep. When he woke up, he saw that the trolls had returned and taken back their shovel.
When Luke left the meadow and once again entered the forest, the canopy of trees enveloped him like a roof of rustling leaves and shadow. The pain in his foot had returned and he had to grits his teeth in order to continue on. Now and then he would rest on one of the rocks protruding out of the forest ground, taking just enough time to calm the ache that was spreading throughout his body. Exhaustion was now creeping up upon him and he realized with some terror that the supplies he had brought with him were dwindling. There was not much bread, marmalade and cheese left in the knapsack he had slung over his shoulder. Luke had calculated just how much food he would need for the journey to the mountain and back, if there was going to be a back at all, but his injury had slowed him down, taking far more time than he had originally calculated. With the slowing down of his journey, his food supplies had begun to dwindle. Though he realized now that hunger was going to be a problem, there were many creeks and lakes generously spread throughout the forest for him to drink out of.
After a day of limping, Luke closed his eyes and sat down to rest on a rock protruding from the ground. Suddenly he heard a rustling sound. It was a sound similar to that of a buzzing dragon fly. He also heard childlike high-pitched giggling. When he opened his eyes, three forest pixies were watching him. They were about the size of a dove, with small mischievous faces and pointy sharp incisors which could Luke could see every time they opened their mouth and giggled. Each pixie had a double pair of two wings buzzing and turning, holding them in the air while they seemed to be highly amused by the sight of the old man in the strange uniform.
Where are you going old human man thing? one of the forest pixies asked in a fitting high-pitched voice. Do you have a duel with a gray giant ogre, do you want to hunt some pixies with that dangerous looking sabre? The other two pixies again joined the giggling, covering their toothy mouths with tiny sharp clawed hands.
At first Luke was too surprised to answer. It was indeed rare to catch sight of one the notoriously mischievous forest sprites but here, directly in front of him, were three of them talking to him, and in human language no less!
I am on a quest to hunt a dragon and save my beloved, Luke finally managed to say to the pixies.
A dragon? the second pixie asked, all the while giggling uncontrollably. So, it is not pixies you are after but something a wee bit larger?
Oh, that poor dragon! the third pixie exclaimed. We should go and warn him that he is in mortal danger.
Luke tried to ignore the fact that the three pixies seemed not to take him very seriously.
I know that pixies live in the forest and I know that you are very curious and knowledgeable creatures. I can imagine that you would know where to find a dragon around here, wouldn’t you? If you perhaps saw a dragon, did you see an old woman too? I am looking for her. I must know. If you be so kind, please tell me.
A dragon? the first mischievous pixie asked. Let me think. So, you think that you are one those metal humans who goes to save the human woman from a fire breathing dragon or a club wielding ogre? We pixies like these human stories. Indeed, we do. We like all kinds of stories. A woman? Is it your wifey and is she old and wrinkly like you? Does she have a sabre and a strange hat like you? Does she have big droopy ears and does she have a limp like you?
I am the funniest thing they have seen in a while, Luke thought to himself. He tried to stand up from the rock, but the pain made him sit back again. He felt himself getting somewhat mad at the mischievous fairies, but then he remembered what he had learned about dealing with troublesome forest sprites. That it was better not to give into the pranks and games that they seemed to enjoy playing on clueless humans. It was also not a very good idea to start an argument with magical creatures he knew next to nothing about. He had heard stories about people who had done that and had their ears turned into donkey ears. For a while at least. I must look ridiculous enough, he thought to himself. Donkey ears are certainly not going to help.
No, she certainly does not, Luke answered matter-of-factly. In fact, she has quite beautiful ears and she is a beautiful woman. You might laugh and giggle at me. That doesn’t matter to me at all. I am going to find that dragon and I am going to rescue my Rosalinda. So, if you are going to help me to find the dragon or not, it doesn’t make a lick of a difference to me.
The first fairy turned to the other ones.
The old saggy eared human really does want to find that dragon.
The big dragon that returned to the forest of its birth, said the second fairy.
The big dragon that lives in the red cave, said the third fairy.
So, you do know where to find that dragon? Luke called out in surprise. Please, kind and very handsome pixies, tell me where to find it!
Kind and handsome, eh? What a funny old knight you are. It lives not very far away. Not very far away at all, the first fairy said.
In the big red cave lives a dragon with a human friend, said the second fairy.
An old droopy eared human woman and a dragon can be found in a red cave, said the third fairy and all three of them again giggled uncontrollably.
So, Rosalinda is alive? Luke cried out, feeling immense joy at the thought.
The old droopy eared human man might need two days and nights to find the old droopy eared woman, answered the first fairy.
I might be an old weak man, but if memory serves me right, I might even know where to find that cave, Luke said. I give you much thanks, oh bestest and wisest of forest pixies.
The three pixies seemed to be somewhat pleased with his compliments. Pixies and human were not known to get along vey well. At least in the stories people told about them.
Luke slowly stood up from the rock he was sitting on, feeling his entire body ache.
When he had turned his back to them, one of the three fairies called out to him.
We will go and warn that big big dragon now! It might be his last day on earth! That poor doesn’t know what is coming to him.
From behind his back, Luke continued to hear the pixies giggle. He started shuffling in a southern direction towards the location where he remembered his childhood cave to be, ignoring what the pixies had told him about the red cave.
Old wrinkly human is braver than a stupid forest troll on a hunt for a pixie breakfast. Maybe he should waddle north and not south, one of the faired called out to him again. Pixies like games, yes, they do, but they do not purposefully mislead old wrinkly knights.
At first pretending not to pay attention to the advice of the mischievous sprite, Luke suddenly had an inexplicable change of mind. He turned north and continued walking, till dusk set in and he decided that it was time to rest. When he opened his backpack to search for some of his remaining provisions, he found it filled to the brim with delicious red forest berries. Those mischievous pixies, he thought to himself. You never know. You just never know.
-
The giggling pixies had indeed been right. With his slow shuffling pace, it took him about two days and nights till he reached the entrance of the red cave. He had spotted it from a distance, nestled between ancient rock formations like a long-kept secret. The red cave was named after its brilliant ochre like color. It was indeed the strangest cave in the vicinity and also one of the largest. Its entrance stood open and gaping, reminding Luke of a giant mouth expecting to be fed. Whatever was waiting inside, Luke was ready for it. The cave entrance itself was not that high above ground level, perhaps 15 feet. For a young man it would not be a difficult climb at all. For a young man that was. Coupled with his injured leg, it was going to take Luke some time to reach it. Casting aside the stick he had relied on all this time, Luke took a deep breath and began the climb.
When he finally reached the cave entrance, pain-stricken and exhausted, the sun had already made its way westwards in the sky, settling down in a soft bed of brilliant orange light. Luke looked long and hard at the sight, realizing how long he hadn’t observed and appreciated a sunset. It might the best last sunset in his long life. Swaying like a wave ridden ship, Luke drew his sabre from its holster and then the pistol from his belt, holding a weapon in each hand. Perhaps the pixies were right, perhaps he did look like the most ridiculous knight of all time, but damn if he wasn’t the most determined. Rosalinda I am coming, Luke growled to himself, limping into the open hungry mouth of the mysterious red cave.
Although Luke had never worn glasses, his eyesight had somewhat worsened in the last years. The further he made his way into the cave, the more its strange darkness began to envelop him. As he slowly marched forwards, the walls of the cave threw back the echoes of his footsteps like a cruel taunt. Somewhere from deep inside the red cave, the lonely sound of water dripping from stalactites played on like some sort of macabre backdrop music. Drip. Drop. Drip.
Come out and show yourself you son of a scale infested badger, Luke called into the darkness, suddenly realizing in his heart of hearts what a terrible idea it all was. I deserve every bit of mockery, he thought to himself. What on earth could he possibly do against a dragon the size of a house? Suddenly a booming voice came out of the dark, a voice that made the walls of the cave rumble like the rattle of an earthquake.
Come closer old man. Come closer and let me look at what gifts you have brought to old Kazimir.
Then out of the dark the massive form of the dragon appeared. It was indeed the way people had described it: a massive winged beast with a horned head like a battering ram and scales the size of bricks. To Luke’s surprise, the expression on its face was not hunger, but rather a sort of amusement. It was perhaps the amusement a cat would feel, if a mouse were to challenge it to a fight.
Oscar lifted his trembling hand holding the gun and pointed it right at the enormous head of the dragon.
Give me back my Rosalinda your scaly abomination! he yelled at the dragon, the echo of his frail human voice returning and mockingly dancing around the cave walls.
The dragon suddenly burst into a roar of thundering laughter. For a moment, Luke thought that the laugh was going to make the cave walls come crashing in.
Your Rosalinda? You came to here to rescue her? Well, my fierce human foe, I fear that I have already picked my teeth with her bones. I must say, it wasn’t the best dinner. Very old meat.
Hearing the dragon’s mocking words, Luke let out an anguished scream and charged, as fast as an old limping man was capable of, the dragon. He aimed for the massive head and fired a shot. The shot hit the dragon, but seemed to reverberate from its scales like a nail hitting a wall that was too thick. The dragon let out an annoyed grunt and with lightning speed grabbed Luke with its right arm. It lifted him up towards its face.
You old fool! So, you think you can just come here and shoot dead a dragon that eats cows for dessert? Let me teach you how believing in your human fairy tales always ends.
The dragon lifted Luke above its mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, holding him in an iron grip and dangling him as if he was nothing more than an insect fighting for survival. Luke, still clutching the sabre in his left hand, desperately tried freeing his arm from the dragons’ grip. He struggled, but to no avail. This is how it ends, he thought to himself. The dragon was right. This is how the heroic stories of foolish old man end.
Luke closed his eyes and resigned himself into his inevitable fate.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, a familiar voice suddenly said. Put him down Kazimir. You don’t even like the taste of humans. Especially old humans.
Oh, come now, the dragon answered the familiar voice. Let an old dragon have some fun. I wasn’t going to eat him. You know that.
That foolish old man is a good friend, so put him down now, the voice commanded the dragon.
Luke was so astonished at the sudden turn of events, that he let go of the sabre. It dropped to the ground with a metallic clang. When the dragon put him down, his legs gave away and he dropped to the floor of the cave, all the fight in him having disappeared.
Rosalinda? It cannot be… Luke said, his voice breaking down to a whisper. He could hear soft but steady footsteps approaching him, till suddenly he saw her. Standing directly in front of him was an alive and breathing Rosalinda.
Rosalinda at first said nothing, eying him from top to bottom. All of a sudden, she bursting into a fit of laughter.
Is that meant to be armor? she gasped among uncontrollable fits of laughter.
To the utter astonishment of Luke, the dragon joined in the laughter, once again causing the caves walls to shake and rumble. They both seemed to find incredible amusement at the sight of Luke sitting on the cave floor, exhausted and astonished by what was happening right in front of him.
Come on you old geezer, Rosalinda said after wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. You must be tired and you look injured. Let’s get you to a warm fire place. You can tell me your story then.
She slowly guided Luke to a blazing little fire, where she helped him sit down. Even though Luke was still to astonished to speak, the fire and the blanket Rosalinda put on his shoulders felt better than he might have ever imagined. After all, he was still alive and not in the belly of the dragon. And here she was, Rosalinda, alive and seemingly doing very well.
Oh Luke, Rosalinda said in a much gentler tone. What were you thinking? What in the name of the seven heavens were you thinking? You fool! Kazimir almost ate you!
Then the words came pouring out of Luke mouth and saying them felt good, felt better than a million warm fires and blankets.
I missed you Rosalinda. I missed you more than I can ever tell you. I am sorry for what happened. I just couldn’t let you go, even if it would have meant the death of me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being eaten by that dragon.
That is indeed so very brave, but also very stupid, Rosalinda said, all the while smiling in her own special way, a smile that Luke had never forgotten. I am actually kind of glad you came to rescue me like some brave but very foolish knight.
All of a sudden, Luke felt a deep sadness welling up in him. He put his head on Rosalinda’s shoulder and let the tears stream down his face.
Cry Luke, Rosalinda said. Cry. Tears wash away the pain. They do. Trust me. I know.
Luke only hazily remembered what happened next. He told Rosalinda everything, told her about the fear in Puffington and what he thought had happened to her, about the treasure burying trolls and the mischievous but helpful pixies. At some point of his recounting, exhaustion overcame him and he fell into a deep sleep. When he opened his eyes again, Rosalinda had already prepared a warm steaming meal for him. The giant dragon was there too, watching him with his paws tucked beneath his chin. How strange it all is, Luke thought to himself.
Your brave friend has awoken, the dragon growled.
I can see that Kazimir, Rosalinda said. Don’t you think about eating him again!
I still haven’t made up my mind about that, the dragon said and chuckled softly, which still sounded like a small earthquake. I should tell him the story about the last knight who tried coming into my cave without knocking. Very amusing story.
You don’t even like old rancid meat, Rosalinda said. Remember, you didn’t eat me when you had the chance.
Well, the dragon said. I still might. I still might. I haven’t decided on dinner yet. Your friend over there is looking more delicious by the minute.
Both of them started laughing, a combination which sounded utterly strange to Luke.
He felt much better and even though the sight of the massive dragon still filled him with awe, the worst of his fear had somehow subsided.
Do I have a word in me being eaten? he asked and tried to stand up.
Easy there my old boy! Rosalinda cried out. You are still injured. Let’s get you some help for that.
If I don’t find myself some fat sheep today, I might just change my mind, the dragon said and lifted himself up, his horned head almost reaching the cave ceiling. I will be on my way now. Can I bring you anything, Rosalinda? Are there any other old lovers in your village that are also thinking of rescuing you?
Oh yes, Rosalinda said. I mean no! I buried them all. If you could maybe raid some clothing line and bring us some warm clothes for my shivering friend Luke. He can’t stay in that ridiculous uniform forever.
Being friends with a human really does degrade a dragon, Kazimir said. Raiding clotheslines is not what we hatch for. We are mythical fire breathing beasts of lore.
Be a good lad, Rosalinda said to the dragon and blew him a kiss.
As if I have a choice, the dragon said, chuckling. He began moving towards the cave exit and the weight of his footsteps reverberated around the cave. I will back soon. Take good care of the other human.
I will, Rosalinda said and turned towards Luke. I am pretty certain you are hungry, seeing that you fell asleep before I could stuff anything in your mouth. Do you prefer mutton or beef?
-
The next days were, strangely enough, some of the happiest of Luke’s life. The dragon had indeed come back and brought him some ill-fitting clothes. But what did dragons know about human clothes anyway? Together the three of them forged a strange kind of comradery, with the dragon leaving on his errands and often bringing them back things Rosalinda they needed. At night, when Luke and Rosalinda were cuddling near the fire, Kazimir would tell them stories of his exploits and adventures. Kazimir had lived a very long life and had seen and experienced things that would have previously been unimaginable to Luke. Luke would listen in astonishment to these stories and tales. At one point, he was overcome with the realization that Puffington wasn’t the world and despite him being an old man, he had not seen or experienced very much at all. Days passed and if it had been up to Luke, he would have wished for this time with Rosalinda, and Kazimir to go on forever. But Luke knew that this was an impossible wish. He knew that there was a reason why Rosalinda hadn’t been eaten by a dragon, had in fact forged a friendship with the giant beast. One day when Kazimir was gone again, Luke finally asked the question he had been wanting to ask for a long time.
Rosalinda. I don’t know much about dragons, but I read somewhere that when their times comes to die, they return to the place where they were born. Is Kazimir dying? Is that why you are here together in this cave? Is he perhaps an old friend of yours?
Luke, Rosalinda said. I held out in telling you, since I didn’t want to immediately ruin those final moments we are having together, but now you need to know. It is not Kazimir who is dying, but me. I have known it for a long time and even though I was lonely, I was prepared for death and what is to come. When Kazimir snatched me that morning, I thought that this was going to be the end. To my surprise, he didn’t eat me. He took me to this cave and told me a fantastic story about my great-great grandfather Hermonius, a story of him hiding a precious secret from the world. The cave he found was not in some far away country, but right here! As often as he could, he would care for the siblings, knowing only that once other people would discover his secret, they would surely murder them in cold blood. My grandfather made people believe that he was mad and that the stories he told, were pure fiction and it worked! Even though he tried his best to keep the dragon siblings alive, only one survived. It was given the name Kazimir. I was told by him that once a human and a dragon form a bond, there can be nothing stronger. It is a bond that even transcends deaths and is sometimes passed on through generations. When my great-grandfather’s time came, Kazimir came back for him. I am the last surviving member of my family. I don’t know how Kazimir knew, but somehow in my final days he came back for me. He came back to pay his respect and to show his gratitude. Dragons have an understanding of reality that we humans do not possess. We humans live in our small little corners and think that we know everything there is to know. I will not go alone Luke. Kazimir will be by my side when death comes knocking. Once I am gone, he will leave Puffington and only return when it his time to pass.
You are dying? Luke asked, feeling deep burning heartache at the thought. Don’t say that Rosalinda.
Oh, you old fool, Rosalinda said gently. You old love sick fool. They say old love doesn’t die. It truly doesn’t. But death isn’t someone to be avoided. He always comes on time. Always. You must know that.
I know, Luke said. I just am so glad we met again before… his voice cracked under the pressure of emotions and he didn’t find the words to finish his sentence.
Look Luke, Rosalinda said. I am also glad that you came back to me in those final days, but I don’t want you to be here when it happens. I will die with Kazimir by my side. When I am dead, he will burn me with his fire. My ashes and bones will be scattered by the wind, never to bother anybody again. It is a great honor to be guided by a dragon, when that final moment comes. It is the way it needs to be. I ask you only to remember me the way that I was. Remember the good parts of me. Just please forget about the old wrinkly ass and the sagging breasts.
Rosalinda laughed and Luke felt awe at how cheerful she seemed to be, even in the face of her imminent demise.
I will never forget you, Luke said. I will remember you always. I promise.
Oh, you hopeless old romantic! Rosalinda cried out. Not always! Just don’t forget about me. That’s all I am asking. Promise me that.
I promise, Luke said, choking back the tears.
I know you won’t Luke, Rosalinda said, leaning her head against Luke’s frail old shoulder. You came to rescue me. You never forgot till now. You never forgot.
-
A very important lesson that all people eventually learn, is that all things must come to an end. Since that moment Rosalinda had told her secret to Luke, he had dreaded the day he knew must eventually arrive. One morning Rosalinda approached him and Luke immediately knew that that this was the day.
Luke, Rosalinda said gently. I don’t have long on this earth. I need you to listen to me now. When I die, I want only Kazimir by my side. He will guide me through that unavoidable gate. It is a great honor to have a dragon guide you to the other realm. Our ancestors knew that, but most people today have forgotten. I don’t want you to see me in pain. I don’t want you to see me suffer. I want you to remember me in the best way possible. A long time ago you didn’t accept what I told you and it broke both our hearts. Please. Accept my final wishes now. Please.
Luke again felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he knew that this time was going to be different. The time for not accepting was over.
I understand Rosalinda, he said. I will be strong for both us.
That is good Luke, Rosalinda said with a sly smile. Old age has certainly changed you. Before good old Kazimir takes you home, I have one final request.
Anything, Luke said. Anything for you.
I have a letter for you. Do not open it till you reach home. Promise to always, keep it close to your heart. Promise me that.
Luke embraced Rosalinda and felt his old man tears wet her gray hair.
Easy now, Rosalinda said, stroking his head. Be strong for the both of us. I know you are. You have proven it by coming wanting to kill dragon. If that isn’t bravery, what is? Kazimir is coming to take you home. I am sure the children of Puffington have missed you greatly and need their beloved story teller back. Go now. Please.
Luke could hear the heavy footsteps of the dragon approaching them.
I will take you home now old friend, the dragons deep voice sounded behind him. It is time. Come on now. There is an end to everything, even dragons.
Wait, Luke cried out. Just give me a few more moments with her. Just a few more moments. That is all I am asking for!
Goodbyes should be goodbyes, Rosalinda said. Be strong Luke. You promised. It has been an absolute pleasure to have you here with us. Kazimir. Bring him home safely.
Suddenly Luke felt the earth under his feet shift away, as the dragon lifted him from the ground and gently set him on his scaled back. The dragon began walking towards the cave exit and from the dragons back Luke watched Rosalinda stand silently watching him. Then as the deep dank cave gave way to a beautiful sunlit day, Rosalinda disappeared forever. Luke remembered her plea for him to be strong and he decided to be so, for her and for the friendship that had united them all those years. He wiped the tears from his eyes and felt the dragon lift them up into the air. Watching the world disappear from atop the dragons back, he felt like the smallest rider in the world. Everything familiar became a blend of rushing colors and wind, the world beneath their feet turning into a swirl of tiny toy-sets. It felt so different to everything he had previously experienced that Luke closed his eyes, giving into the incredible sensation. Dry your tears, the dragon said. Only very few people have even ridden the back of a dragon. Those who tried, ended up not on my back but in my belly. Consider yourself lucky. We will be home soon.
-
When they had reached Puffington, the dragon landed directly in the middle of the town square. The people watching the fantastic spectacle of a massive dragon and a human rider, froze to the place where they stood. With eyes filled with terror and mouths agape, they dropped their groceries and belongings to the ground and fled in terror. All this bothered neither the dragon nor Luke. Kazimir gently, as gentle as a dragon could be, helped Luke get down from his back to the ground.
Thank you Kazimir, Luke said, still feeling the earth under his feet wobble like waves crashing into a boat. I will never forget you. I know now that people can be wrong about many things, they are absolutely sure of.
They most certainly are, the dragon answered. As for you, I have met and eaten many a great warrior in my times. You, Luke, have been the bravest of them all. I wish you happiness my friend and always look to the sky. You might see a friend there.
Kazimir flapped his large beautiful wings, making the air swirl around Luke’s face like the breath of a hurricane. Luke watched until Kazimir had become only a small dot in the endless blue sky. He continued to stand in the market place for a while, until finally turning around and walking the empty streets back to his beloved home.
When Luke reached his home, the old striped cat was already waiting for him, rubbing itself against his legs and letting out an endless pour of satisfaction.
Hello my friend, Luke said and bent down to pet his striped companion. I never thought I would see you again, but I must say it feels good to be home.
He opened the door and the cat let itself in, eager for food and the warmth of Luke’s home. Inside there was only silence and the sound of the clock: tick-tack, tack-tick. Luke dropped himself into the brown rocking chair, closing his eyes for a moment before opening the letter he was now holding in his trembling hands.
Dear Luke,
I am glad you finally understood that in my own way, I have always loved you. I want you to know that the older I grew, the more I learned how desperately we need each other. How desperately we fill each other’s days with laughter, anger, hope, humanity and misery. I missed you dear Luke. I missed you more than I could ever tell you. Thank you for trying to save me and always remember those days we spend climbing trees, exploring caves and running across green meadows. They will come again. I promise.
Your loving friend forever,
Rosalinda
Luke put the letter on his lab, closed his tear-filled eyes and smiled. When he slept that night, he dreamt of dragons, pixies and endless skies. And of course, beautiful Rosalinda.
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Paul Thomas Anderson’s THE MASTER and what it may teach us about mind-control vs freedom Post-Covid
So last night I watched The Master. It was a most pleasing way to spend a Saturday evening; alone, with two cats draped on the sofa and windowsill respectively, and it rounded off a pretty pedestrian Saturday mostly spent mowing and raking the lawn and scattering grass seed whilst *Boo finished reading Jacqueline Wilson’s Rose Rivers whilst occasionally appearing at the back door to yell; ‘mama, you’re driving me nuts with your gardening!’ Somehow I’d been looking forward to scattering my grass seed all week - the promise of moist new green growth on our dusty brown patches. Thing is - and there is a lesson in here somewhere - the grass seed box said it covered 10m square - I guess I got a bit carried away and basically I ran out after one corner. So one corner of my lawn will look like Eden, and the rest will continue to look like some deserted Sicilian scrubland... That’s life, baby, I guess.
So anyway, The Master....dear God. There are many ways I could go with this...Firstly undiluted, scope, wonder, singular sensitivity, impossible mastery, extreme importance and sheer exalting, agonising beauty of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films is the subject of another post. (I’m still on a high from the explosive visceral experience of watching Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood and that was, what, 5 years ago? 10 years ago?) Then The Master came out in 2012 and P.T.A. raised his game even more.
I could, and will another time, talk about the astonishing gift Joaquin Phoenix afforded the world with his embodiment of his character, Freddie Quell. (I say ‘embodiment’; ‘performance’ always strikes me as an incorrect way of describing an actors full immersion in an imagined character’s inner life.) To my mind, Freddie is one of the most affecting, heart-breaking, occasionally funny and downright truthful portrayals of a ‘broken’ man; an exiled, psychologically damaged, wild and lonely spirit who roams the world, desperate for love and acceptance, clearly one of the great ‘un-belonging’ of the post-war world in America. In one the open scenes he simulates fucking an over-sized figure of woman carved in sand on a hot beach, for the amusement of his army pals. In the final scene of the film, after his long long incredible journey , we see him caressing this sand woman again, resting his next to a large sandy breast. Oh poor dear Freddy Quell; my tears ran with him last night; knowing myself in this second viewing of the film, to be so like him. Perhaps one day I will be able to shake Joaquin Phoenix’s hand and say ‘thankyou so much for Freddie.....’ I often feel like that with actors work that resonates through the bones.
I could also talk about how Philip Seymour Hoffman was possibly the greatest screen actor of his time, and how crazy it was that the world didn’t seem to mourn his tragic early death. Was it perhaps because he died of an accidental heroine overdose? - and this, well, didn’t sit very well with Hollywood. His embodiment here of Lancaster Dodd, charismatic leader of philosophical cult movement The Cause, is breath-taking. But then all his performances were breath-taking. I had a dream about him once (whole other post entitled CELEBRITY DREAMS coming your way); we were kind of friends even though I knew he was dead and his face kept appearing on billboards all over London. If, when; I meet him in the spirit world, I’d like to shake his hand and thank him for Lancaster Dodd and Brandt in The Big Lebowski, and Truman Capote, and also for providing me with one of the most pivotal theatre experiences of my life. August 2001, Edinburgh Festival, I witnessed his production of Jesus Hopped The A Train at The Gilded Balloon; this was running gold theatre. Within half a second of the play ending the entire full house erupted to it’s feet like we’d all been tasered from the floor. Thank you Philip...you gave me faith then that theatre is important; that art comes from dark places and revives...
I could talk about the astonishing crashing score composed by Radiohead’s guitarist Jonny Greenwood.
I could also talk about Amy Adam’s terrifying portrayal of Lancaster’s icy wife Peggy and her utterly brilliant final put-down to Freddie: “you either do this for a billion years, or not at all...” (she’s referencing Freddie’s abandonment of the cult she’s set up with her husband, but this line, I feel, could apply to motherhood...….)
* * * * * * * * * *
It usually takes me two viewings for a films deeper meaning to seep in, and last night I was struck by what I see as the heart of the film. The core of the film is relationship between Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd; it’s an uncompromising study of male vulnerability and the cosmic search for ‘a father figure’... On a bigger scale, its about how those in positions of assumed power and influence ( Dodd) rely on the adoration and worship of those whom society deem ‘worthless’ (Quell). It’s about the fragility and corruption of a society whereby a man promises freedom and empowerment to his followers (Dodd devises a system of ‘processing’ whereby he takes initiates back to past traumas through a curious mixture of interrogation and hypnosis and ‘cures’ them; he posits that his vision can cure leukaemia and will bring about world peace) and how those ‘disadvantaged’, the great ‘unloved’ can be absorbed into such an attractive lifestyle. In one painful scene, Freddie is taken to a party at a mansion, filled with monied people and luxurious things. Freddie is dressed smartly for the occasion; but is sweating with nerves and orders a scotch at the earliest opportunity, before hiding away in a side room and stealing an ornament. It took me back to my own exile, when, at the age of 17 I landed at Brentwood Boys School in Essex, and cut off from my parents, shattered from my sister’s suicide and a lifetime of confusion, I nonetheless attended many a glorious party; a perfect size 10 and top of the class, I knew how to say all the right things. But, like Freddie, I knew I didn’t and wouldn’t ever fit it. Like him, I would often sneak off to the side rooms, get off my head drunk to hide my shame and hopeless, and cause some fight..
In the end, despite himself, Freddie starts to see through Lancaster’s bullshit and returns to his life on the road. Though The Cause had given him a home, suits and ties, friendship, respect and a certain ‘standing’ that he could only have dreamed of, as he confesses to Peggy at the end, before returning to his own brand of personal lonely freedom; ‘it’s just not how I look’.
* * * * * * *
“Don’t you know, They’re talking about a revolution it sounds like a whisper Don’t you know you’d better run run run run run run run run.....” Tracey Chapman
Talkin’ About A Revolution
What I find heartening and deeply exciting about these early post-Covid times, as the first chinks of sunlight pour in through windows that have separated us from friends, lovers, fellow man for so long, is that people are choosing freedom. In small ways, perhaps, but I get the overall sense that for many people, fear has had its day. As my dear friend said over tea the other day; ‘people are thinking fuck this, fuck it, we wanna fuck��....well, exactly.
It was this dear friend I met up with in her wood a few weeks ago; we hugged each other day, and it was such a joyous relief to see her I told her that if I got the virus and killed me, oh fuck it, it would be worth it, just to sit next to her by a river on a sunny day...
I’ve had two other conversations lately to support my little theory; a particularly cheerful friend of mine turned up with her daughter unannounced on my doorstep couple of weeks back - they had a bag of clothes; would Boo like them? Initially we did the ‘2 m’ thing, paying homage to THE RULES as dictated by the blessed government of this land; I hovered on the threshold of my kitchen - she stood outside by the flower-pots. Then I broke the rules; ‘look, do you wanna come in?’ - That was it. The ice was broken - and she stood, blond, beaming and glorious with her big sunglasses on, in my little kitchen - along with her daughter and mine, and I could literally have feasted forever on the sheer joyous fleshiness of having three other living homo sapiens near me. That sunny day in early June, two women in a small village in Sussex chose freedom. ‘I’ve just had enough of all this virus stuff’ she said ‘I’m even dreaming about it! I’ve just had enough’.
Then last week a friend came over with her three glorious girl children and told me how her youngest, a endlessly sweet six yr old, had ‘hidden behind a tree with her friend so that they could have a hug’. Lets think about that for a moment; six years olds hiding behind trees to have a hug. Its pretty damn sad. And weird. This friend had been on full on paranoid lockdown due to one of the children’s potential serious health issues - but she’d reached breaking point. ‘I’ve had enough’ she said. And that day her girls and my daughter raced up and down the stairs and around the garden in glorious flagrance of any state prescribed social distancing rules.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In the end, Freddie breaks free from his master’s and The Cause’s control and continues - we assume - his lonely drift around the world. In their final agonising meeting, Lancaster reveals the smashed ungenerous ego of a despot thwarted by his adoring lover: ‘if I meet you in a future life I will show you no mercy, you will be my sworn enemy’. Freddie, emaciated, tearful and ever desperate to belong, asks Lancaster to reveal to him how and where they’d met in a previous life... He knows it’s bullshit, in the way I knew my father was incapable of loving me, but when you’ve got a Krakatoa sized hole in your heart, you just can’t stop hoping somehow...pledging allegiance to a resplendent asshole is somehow better than our greatest fear; the abyss of loneliness and isolation. Lets face it; freedom is pretty terrifying after such a long stretch of captivity.
That’s the thing in these Covid times; we always have a choice. We have a choice now, whether to be continue to be afraid or whether to choose freedom. Whether to cut loose and go racing into the desert on a motorbike back to his first love, like Freddie does, following his own destiny, not succumbing to control forces that on the surface entice him into a richer more glamorous life.
And I’m not talking about being an complete idiot and denying there’s a serious virus still on the loose, or hugging scared people in the street to prove a point, and I’m not denying that many people are extremely vulnerable - I’m talking about something entirely different; that deep inner decision that calls in all of us - whether to choose the uncharted waters of freedom, or rest in an all-too familiar fear zone.
To conclude, my dear friend Matilda sent me this book ‘Big Magic - Creative Living By Fear’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love (I’ve just watched the film its rather good I think...) Anyway, there’s this great chapter called Fear Is Boring which rang through me, growing up as I did drenched in the anxiety of a Munchausen Syndrome-by-proxy mother (WHOLE other post...) - but here’s what she says about the time, age fifteen, she ‘wised up’ to fear and chose another way:
“I noticed that my fear never changed, never delighted, never offered a surprise twist or an unexpected ending. My fear was a song with only one note - only one word, actually - and that word was “STOP!”
Dear reader, I’m shitting myself with the best of them, but I’ve had enough of fear. I’m not stopping. I’m going. What do you say?..... xxxx
Big love from Christine
#paul thomas anderson#joaquin phoenix#philip seymour hoffman#elizabeth gilbert#fear#freedom#post covid freedom#exile#post traumatic growth#jonny greenwood#cult#male ego#filmmkrs#film art#grass seed#social distancing#social isolation#amy adams#american films
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A butane gas cube...
I called her “Betsy,” and I remember how far that old car had travelled, following us all the way to Europe. We would pack her to her limits with luggage and emergency rations for every trip we took, and she tirelessly traversed far and wide, showing us the beauty of the German country side and beyond. She kept the pace with those feisty little Fiats that zipped along the autobahns, and (with only the questionable durability of tire chains for traction) bravely scaled the Austrian Alps in the dead of an icy winter. With Jerry sleeping on the pallet of luggage in the back (before the intervention of car seat safety laws) and as long as Ricky kept his big feet on his end of the backseat, there was plenty of room for the five of us. Yes, I would say we loved our old Rambler American station wagon, for she was steadfast and true. She was one of us.
The household budget was tight, and though we knew the Rambler was approaching the end of her days, we couldn’t easily afford another car. Nevertheless, Daddy ventured out one Saturday to browse a few car lots, wanting to get an idea of what our budget would support. As he was pulling into the Toyota dealership, old “Betsy” pitched and moaned, dropping her drive shaft on the spot. Couldn’t blame her. She knew it was only a matter of time before he replaced her; hell, he was taking her on the replacement search for crying out loud! She was done, alright, so Daddy did the only thing he could do. He bought a Toyota.
A bright yellow Corolla was the only thing on the lot that fit our small budget, so Daddy bought it. He left our poor Rambler behind and drove the shiny new girl home. He pulled into the driveway and as we watched him pry himself out of that oh-so-tiny car, he hollered, “Climb on in, let’s take a ride!” There was a little commentary from Mama about what he was thinking when he bought a car that would barely accommodate five when the arrival of his mother now made us a family of six, “You didn’t forget Ma, did you?” He assured her it would all work out just fine, because what was he to do anyway with old “Betsy’s” drive shaft laying in the middle of that Toyota lot and him with no more money than he had and besides, with some nice seat covers, she’ll be a damn cute little car and we’ll all get used to her, so quit bitching and get in already!
We crammed ourselves into that thing so tightly, we were sitting assholes to elbows. Jerry was wedged in the middle of the back seat. That poor kid was pinned between my fat hips on one side, and Ricky wriggling in the struggle to fit his big feet under the driver’s seat on the other side…nope. We swapped. Mama needed less leg room, so my big-footed brother’s permanent spot would be behind the front passenger seat. It was so close; we were barely breathing, and let me hereby testify that personal hygiene matters.
Daddy drove us all around town until I feared I would faint from the heat of our claustrophobic closeness and those noxious male adolescent body odors that had nowhere to waft but up my nose. My melodramatic sigh drew a cautionary glare from Mama, so I continued in silent mourning over the loss of our Rambler and that sweet roomy ride with a bay in the back for napping on long trips -not to mention adequate air flow. Life would never be the same without her. Ricky mostly just blinked and stared, while Jerry was too young to understand our distress. Mama understood, but Daddy? He was just happy to have an intact drive shaft and determined to make the best of the situation.
We had been on the road long enough to need gas, so Daddy pulled into our regular filling station on the corner. Full service was still the norm in those days, and the young man who worked there sauntered toward the car with a nod to my father. Wayne walked around Mama’s side, eyeing the fender, and made his way to the back. He jiggled the license plate, then came around the driver’s side. Daddy rolled down his window, and with the most serious expression said, “A butane gas cube.”
“Sir?”
“It takes a butane gas cube. You do carry those, don’t ya?”
“Uh, a butane gas cube? Uh, I’ll have to ask my boss, Sir,” and he went back inside the garage.
Soon his boss came out laughing, “A butane gas cube? I’ll have to remember that one!” Then, with a wink, he scolded my dad for teasing his help.
My father got out to show Wayne where, between the back door and the back window, a decorative chrome vent concealed the gas cap. He flipped it open, and Wayne filled ‘er up. Poor Daddy felt so bad for embarrassing the kid, that he tipped him a little extra. We laughed all the way home, and Mama was damn near hysterical. Why, we were so impressed by daddy’s dead-pan delivery as he asked for that butane gas cube, we thought he was positively brilliant. By the time we pulled up to the house, I was feeling better about the new girl. Oh, I would always miss our “Betsy” but if this one could make us laugh like that, maybe I could learn to love her in time.
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My hikes on Saturday and Sunday were eventful not because anything odd happened, but because the terrain was as diverse as could be. Weather was great and I met a few new folks who I will introduce.
I spent a lot of time hiking in higher elevations through snow and ice. Much of this was fairly treacherous slip hazards and it slowed me down quite a bit. The views across those elevations were spectacular and the images below show a lot of them.
I ran into a trail maintenance crew coming out of Hot Springs that I took a picture of sown in the mosaic below. You will see an image of me with Turk to my left and Red to my right. I met them along the was to Sam’s Gap. Red and I are also in another picture along the trail. We have been hiking together a bit since we keep a fairly common pace. Turk, Red and I spent the night one night, after finishing at Sam’s Gap, at Mother Marian’s Hostel. Marian and Fred are shown in the images below as well. They we very accommodating there and it was a restful night for me. Unfortunately I awoke to find I had snored Turk and Red right out of the room and they had taken up residence in the family room on the couch and floor. I gave them fair warning and I have been more vigilant to segregate myself away from folks at night so I don’t keep them up when at all possible.
All the images of ice and snow are along the way to Sam’s Gap for the most part. The views are from the ridge along the line where Howard’s Rock resides, from about mile 298 to around 301. These three miles were dangerously icy and rocky with large descents and ascents over escarpments and rocks stair cases the required extra caution while hiking to make sure you had decent footing. You’ll see a plaque for Howard’s Rock and a letter sharing the story of Howard’s Rock. The summary of the story is that Howard was and engineer that dedicated a lot of time to design and work on the trail and this rock was a special place he kept saying would be perfect for a sit to eat lunch and enjoy the view. The rock would have to be moves and rotated to lay flat against another for this to work. The folks he worked with on the trail respected him so much that they performed the necessary tasks to make this happen and installed the plaque without Howard’s knowledge and surprised him with it. Howard loved the gesture and spent much time enjoying the view from here. He would bring family and friends to this place whenever they were in town to share the view and the grand gesture his friend had done for him. The views are spectacular and Howard was a man with a grand vision that was made a reality by friends that loved and respected him. That makes the view even more special.
There are a couple of other interesting images here as well. A picture of a monument dedicated by the family that donated some of the land to the trail describing their hopes for what this section will bring to those that hike it. The resting place of the ashes of a through hiker from the sixties who wished to be interred here. A view of a typical shelter in North Carolina where I ate lunch one day. A beautiful sunset over the rocks as I was descending in the evening.
The section over the ice and snow as well as descending down the snow, ice and mud as I got into lower altitudes were some of the most dangerous so far. These rock scrambles covered with ice and snow severely hampered my pace on these days. I spent as much effort getting through fifteen to seventeen miles of trail as it took me to get through twenty-seven going down into Hot Springs. The terrain and weather combination everything with regard to pace.The beginnings of one of the Bald’s
Ice and Snow along Big Firescald Knob mile 298 to 300
Left to right, Turk, Turtlethump (me), Red staying together at Mother Marians hostel.
Me and the steps up to Max Patch
Hiking in snow up to Big Bald.
Trail maintenance crew outside of Hot Springs enjoying lunch.
Squeak through the rocks along scenic route around mile 299.
Trudging through snow mud and slush. This picture ought to bring back some memories for my youngest son.
No! No! No! Snow! Snow! Snow!
Monument dedicated to the family that donated the property to the trail and hopes they have for this trail section.
View 2 from Howard’s Rock
View 1 from Howard’s Rock
Me and Red on the trail
A view of some of the treacherous parts of the trail in the snow and ice.
Snow across the mountain ridges in North Carolina.
Steps up to Max Patch
Snow through North Carolina for quite a ways.
A view of Hot Springs on the hike out.
This is the story of Howard’s Rock.
Howard’s Rock Plaque
Scaling a rock scramble on the trail.
Dangerous ice and ledges to circumvent
Fred and Marian from Mother Marian hostel. These folks are so accommodating and nice it was a relaxing time staying there.
A memorial to a through hiker whose ashes are left at this spot.
A typical North Carolina shelter.
Views and Views and Views
Sundown rock
The long view into Tennessee
Snow on the mountain
Treacherous Snow and Ice
Until next post,
Turtlethump out.
Spring Mountain Shelter to Sam’s Gap 3/23 and 3/24 My hikes on Saturday and Sunday were eventful not because anything odd happened, but because the terrain was as diverse as could be.
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Ars does Soylent, Day 2: My God, what is this disastrous situation I no longer need to put any substances of any sort into my mouth ever again.
Two days back, Senior Reviews Editor Lee Hutchinson took a promise to spend seven days eating only Soylent, a nutritiously finish feast substitution made by architect and business visionary Rob Rhinehart. He's archiving his flexibility from strong sustenance by day. Perused about Day 1 here.Day 1 recap: Like trench fighting in France
I finished the past passage saying that I would take off running, yet that did not occur. As it got closer to 7pm, I began feeling dismal thunderings in my stomach—the kind that could either be the indication of some safe gas or the harbinger of the poopocalypse. I remained in, rather watching a few scenes of The Wire with my significant other, who had a fine solid supper while I tasted my Soylent with a constantly souring gut. Somewhat after 8pm, the gas began.
It was terrible. These weren't unimportant ha-ha toot sorts of discharges; this was hair-raising. It was room-clearing, horse-slaughtering, World War I mustard gas-sort gas. I moved from space to room in the house like I was surrendering domain to the Kaiser, my face settled in a look of frightfulness as green hellfire vapor trailed behind me, peeling paint and withering plants. My significant other, favor her heart, said nothing. Eventually, I advanced back to the PC and pulled up the email correspondence between Soylent organizer Rob Rhinehart and me.
"Other than a touch of gas at first (a few people's gut microorganisms are not acclimated to the dissolvable fiber) there have been no unfriendly responses," he wrote in light of my question about potential versatile reactions. At that point my eyes begun to water from the gas and I needed to keep running once more into the parlor.
Substance fighting farts aside, I finished off Day 1 with completely zero issues with appetite. Truth be told, other than a couple brief twinges, I didn't feel real for-genuine craving even once. It even felt like there was excessively Soylent in the pitcher—it was a test to eat every last bit of it.
Day 2, 07:30
I woke up with a light migraine, which is surprising for me. I haven't gone off espresso, and it doesn't feel like a caffeine cerebral pain—it's quite recently sort of a scarcely there disturbance. I trundle into the workplace, get up to speed with overnight email and tweets, and consider my breakfast presenting with expanding fear.
My stomach has never been especially responsive to breakfast, and right now we have the most uneasy of détentes going on—any wrong move could start an episode. As I taste espresso, a few Soylent flatulates issue forward and I pull my shirt up over my nose. My better half has somewhat of an icy and dozed in the visitor room the previous evening, and I'm in reality quite thankful. In case I'm as yet gassy now, I was likely gassy throughout the night. Luckily, I was oblivious and did not take note.
The inescapable part where we discuss crap [skip to the following subhead if squeamish]
Consistency has never been an issue for me—even as I push ever assist into my late 30s, I keep on being honored with accuracy guts. My first post-Soylent crap happens ideal about at the typical time—8:30-ish—and it feels like the same old thing: neither a wild splash nor a rough hard press. I'd give it a four on the Bristol scale. From an amount point of view, it was unquestionably less, yet it wasn't especially unique. Perhaps a couple shades lighter than regular, yet at the same time a typical darker.
The lavatory business is joined by quite roused tooting also. I envision my gut microscopic organisms are altogether wired up and moving their little gut microbes hearts out. My digestive organ is murmuring and pounding like a Soylent-filled discotheque.
Day 2, 09:00—Soylent Green
I enjoy my some espresso, putting off the Soylenting to the extent that this would be possible, however as 9am gravitates toward I can put it off no more. I approach the sack and blender gradually, haggling with myself. Only a little glass at the beginning of today, I think, my canyon ascending as I envision bringing down another extensive serving like I had on Day 1.
Once more, the custom: pack in bowl, blend substance. One liter of water in blender, half of powder into blender, half of a vial of oil. This time, I include a capful of vanilla concentrate and a dash of green sustenance shading. I have now gotten roughly nine hundred hillion jillion squintillion remarks, messages, and tweets discussing "SOYLENT GREEN LOL." So on Day 2, my Soylent will surely be green. This time, I utilize super cold water and the most minimal setting on the blender, giving the blend a chance to rest after a couple seconds.Out of the blender and into the pitcher, then rehash with second liter. The pitcher has no foam today, for which I am grateful. Gradually, I pour an espresso mug-sized serving and taste.
The vanilla has a gigantic effect in taste discernment. The strange non-specificity is gone, similar to the yeasty breadiness—in its place, there's essentially an indication of vanilla. The sweetness is a great deal better now as well, feeling like some portion of the light vanilla flavor as opposed to a simulated idea in retrospect. There's very little to be done about the sticking pastiness however, and the dregs coats my mouth like mud in a riverbed. Still, I control through the mug of thick pistachio-green slurry and really feel OK about it.Day 2, 10:00: Second breakfast
This is turning into a standard hold back: I'm not eager, but rather on the off chance that I don't drink the Soylent, I won't complete the pitcher. Since the calories are incorporated with the sustenance, I have to complete the entire day's serving keeping in mind the end goal to get everything my body clearly needs to work.
The green shading isn't especially off-putting—it looks sort of cool, really, similar to it ought to taste of peppermint. My stomach reels at the possibility of peppermint-enhanced Soylent.I don't especially make the most of my second glass. I am drinking it while I work, similar to a quick paced present day kind of fellow, however regardless i'm full from breakfast and the more I drink of the second glass, the heavier I feel. It takes me 30 minutes to traverse the container, and the prospect of that whole pitcher as yet holding up in my ice chest is truly weighing at the forefront of my thoughts. Now, a light lunch of a modest bit of flame broiled chicken sounds appallingly, unpleasantly engaging. No, scratch that—now, not eating for whatever is left of the day sounds shockingly better.
I'm additionally feeling lovely darn uncreative. Morning is generally when I chip away at short news things and reports, and concentrating on a site sufficiently long to peruse something beyond a couple sections sounds like a preposterous measure of work. Reports of Soylent bringing on mental lucidity and enhanced execution and vitality can be discovered somewhere else on the Web, yet I feel the inverse: drowsy. The cerebral pain from today is starting to strengthen.
I pop some ibuprofen to help with the cerebral pain, and the little piece of water to make the pills goes down makes my stomach feel much more full. I attempt to disregard it and compose.
Day 2, 13:30: I am compelled to eat
The migraine has kindly blurred, and all the more reassuringly, I'm really feeling a little, exceptionally black out measure of craving. I'd love to give it a chance to stew longer and check whether it blooms into a real undeniable yearning to eat, however I don't have time. There's around 1.5 liters of green vanilla Soylent that I need to traverse.
The pitcher has stratified significantly less today than it did on Day 1, as well, for which I am thankful. I feel...odd, is the most ideal way I can put it. It's neither a decent odd nor a terrible odd—I simply feel a little off kilter. I get a decent whiff of Soylent as I whisk away its layers and I feel all the while queasy and hungry, however significantly more queasiness than craving. When I begin drinking it, it's not shocking, but rather I'd truly recently begun to shed the overwhelming feeling from breakfast and I'm not especially anticipating jumping again into feeling so weighted down and un-hungry.There's a considerable measure of gut moving as I drink this specific serving, as well—my digestive organs have been for the most part calm since breakfast, however evidently that is not going to last. When I'm finished with the glass, I've completely demolished any sentiments of yearning I may have been feeling and I truly have confidence in my heart that I will never need to put anything sustenance related in my mouth again for whatever is left of my life.
This sounds like overstatement, however man, Saturday is resembling it's a long, long way away.
As I come back to work, I need to accomplish something to consume through the Soylent funk I feel myself falling into. The previous evening's prematurely ended endeavor at running truly annoys me and I frantically need to get retreat there today, yet there won't be a shot in damnation if my gut doesn't quiet down and my mind remains this foggy.
It's conceivable this is a self-propagating cycle I'm in—Soylent's 2400 calories are more than I requirement for my standard "sit in this seat and compose throughout the day" level of action. Perhaps in the event that I get up and accomplish something, the action will jumpstart things and I'll get more empowered.
Running needs to hold up until some other time at night however, in light of the fact that I live in what might as well be called overwhelm hellfire. Furthermore, I have meetings and due dates and things—flying out for two or three hours today truly isn't an alternative. As the evening extends on, my gut cycles into high action, having a craving for seeming like an organization of dump trucks snarling and slipping their way through an Ice Capades execution. It's unsettling.
Day 2, 17:00: Do not need
Shane Snow, composing for Tim Ferris' blog, talks through his two week Soylent travel with mind and talkative, bypassing the days and clearly feeling great through it all. He describes that by Day 2, he's getting the fragrance of sustenance all over the place and envisioning about eating, about gnawing into a brownie.
I don't feel anything like that. Not by any means remotely. Sustenance is terrible. I have an inclination that I need to sew my mouth close. I would prefer not to ever expend anything again. No water, no Soylent, no chicken, no steak, no lager, no nothing. My stomach is finished. I have broken it.
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