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rissarants · 4 months

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Farewell, My Favorite Fever Dream

Note: If you're only interested in my final show's recap, scroll down a bit. Obviously, spoiler warning. My Previous History with Sleep No More Before this past Saturday afternoon, it had been about a decade since I last checked into The McKittrick Hotel. What I thought would be my final visit was in October of 2013, my best friend and I attended another Sleep No More show that was promptly followed by Panic! At The Disco's album release party. It was an incredible evening, despite the "give me a vodka cranberry, this time with vodka" incident that resulted in a bartender gleefully sending me into a drunken spiral. It was my fourth show and I assumed it would be my last. After all, how many times could a person justify seeing the same show? (After perusing the Sleep No More subreddit and discord... apparently a lot. How the hell are you all affording this?!)

Content with my experiences and convinced I had seen all there was to see, I put that obsession behind me.... or so I thought.

The mysterious and cryptic world of Sleep No More lingered in the back of my head like a haunting melody that refused to fade. Occasionally I would reminisce about the blue-tinged forest maze, the smell of the hotel lobby, and recall my 1:1 with Hecate. I relished retelling my experiences to people who had never been to the show. During the peak of my obsession, I had recapped a couple of my visits here on Tumblr (Sleep No More and The Third Time's The Charm) and I would return long after this blog had grown dormant just to reread those posts. I had toyed with the idea of returning, but as I grew older and life became more expensive, so did the show. I couldn't justify dropping that amount of money on something I had seen four times already. Then came the closing announcement. Suddenly I found myself pulling up the site, going over current ticket prices, and wishing I could take that leap. But I was no longer the financially irresponsible 20-something without real responsibility. I'm in my thirties, a mother, and have things like preschool tuition to worry about.

After a casual conversation with my in-laws over Thanksgiving dinner, the topic of Sleep No More was brought up. Immediately I was gushing about how much I adored the show, my past experiences, and how I had never reached that elusive 6th floor. As a result, they ended up buying me two tickets as my gift for Christmas. They had sprung for the Oz's Guest tickets, so we were able to get priority entry, a table, and a complimentary coat check. It was an incredibly generous gift, and I was nearly moved to tears. I was finally going back. My Final Show Recap After an excruciating month of waiting and obsessing, the day had finally arrived. I was going with my husband who had never attended but heard my stories and was looking forward to seeing it for himself. I wanted him to go in mostly blind and only gave him the most basic of tips (e.g. if an actor offers their hand, take it. If you hear techno music, run towards it.) He understood that we would not be going on this adventure together, I refused to be one of those obnoxious couples who held hands the entire time. Half of the fun is going with someone, separating from them once you enter the hotel, and then talking about what you both experienced afterward. For myself, I had done a bit of research before this final show and was hoping to follow the loops of characters I hadn't paid attention to before. While I had this initial plan, I also promised myself that I would go with the natural flow of things. I had been warned about the aggressive crowds and didn't want to let anything like that spoil my final visit. We arrived early, were checked in swiftly, and given a pair of playing cards (aces, which meant we would be in the first group.) Before I knew it, "The Man Who Knew Too Much Prelude" was filling my ears as we navigated the pitch-black maze that acts like a portal to the Manderley bar. We had a table waiting for us, but since we had aces there was not enough time for a drink. Our group was called, and Steve and I were separated almost immediately. I ended up on the elevator and he was in another group that went up some stairs.

I was the first person off of the elevator and the doors shut quickly behind me. For a split second, I thought I may have been dumped out on the 6th floor, but unfortunately, it was the 5th floor. I spotted the familiar bathtubs and beds of the King James Sanitorium and began to wander. I weaved through the Birch Forest maze, which was every bit as eerie and confusing as I remembered. I saw Matron Lang hanging out in her wooden hut and watched her through the window for what felt like a long time. Eventually, I grew a bit bored and wandered down to Macbeth's bedroom.

I watched the scene where Lady Macbeth eventually convinces her husband to murder Duncan. It was at this point that I considered trying to follow Macbeth throughout the first loop and chased him to the canopy where a sleeping Duncan lay. I watched as Macbeth smothered him with a pillow, a long brutal scene where we had to stand there helplessly as Duncan fought back angrily, eventually weakening and giving up with a final twitch. Macbeth tried to wash his hands in a basin, only to realize that they were now covered in blood. I still can't believe that I somehow missed this pivotal moment in my previous shows. At this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered around the (quite handsome) actor who played Macbeth and I noticed a few aggressive women were shoving their way to the front. It was then that I decided to hang back with Duncan's dead body to see what would happen next. I believe it was Banquo who came in, found the body, and began ringing the bell. Malcolm and Macduff arrived, and they all expressed their grief, eventually bringing the body down to the crypt. Again, a pushy crowd had begun to gather and I craved space. I went up a flight or two and heard the unmistakable techno beats of the witches' second prophecy/rave/blood orgy thing. I immediately changed course and followed the beats to the long, dark, hallway topped with a neon sign that once read "Hello There" but now simply stated "Hell here." The rave scene is still as impactful as it was the first time I had seen it... complete sensory overload. I ended up in a spot where I was front and center, watching as Hecate whipped the other witches up into a frenzy. The beat dropped and the strobe lights kicked in, causing the scene to be presented in short flashes. The Boy Witch completely nude, on top of a table wearing an animal's head. Macbeth presented with a bloody infant. The guttural screams of the witches' power.

I stayed after the rave to witness the Sexy Witch do her exhausted, eerie dance behind the bar as Hecate watched. Afterward, Hecate and Agnes had a tense moment where the former gathered the latter's tears in a little glass vial.

It was at this point that I decided to follow Agnes back to her apartment, the Tailor made his creepy appearance through her closet, and the loop restarted. I tried sticking with Agnes for as long as I could, getting to see her dance with the Tailor, steal his money, and eventually make her way to the hotel lobby.

It was there that I was reunited with an old character I remembered fondly: the Porter. While I did not have a true 1:1 with him in my previous shows, he did give me the note that eventually led to my cherished Hecate 1:1. That was then followed by a frantic, yet fruitless attempt at finding her ring.

This time I hung back and observed as the Porter had his tea scene with Agnes, followed by a drunken dance as he cleaned up the hotel. I have to say that this actor was incredibly good, mixing a bit of rage, sadness, and silliness as he leaped around the room pulling sheets from lamps. After the Boy Witch arrived to taunt and then cruelly reject the Porter, one of the other white masks (audience members) was whisked away into the Porter's office for a 1:1. At this point, I admit that I was feeling a little confused about what to do next. I was approximately halfway through this final show and had an anxious feeling about wasting the precious moments I had left. I recalled reading how you could gain access to the 6th floor 1:1 by encountering a nurse on the 5th floor. I decided to check it out quickly, hoping that I would get lucky.

Instead, I ran into Nurse Shaw, who was doing an odd dance in the window between the bathtubs and the forest. I followed her through the woods and ran into Matron Lang who seemed transfixed by the Nurse. They both seemed to mirror each other's movements and the Matron started moving through the maze in an attempt to catch up to the Nurse. She was unsuccessful as the Nurse disappeared back through her window, and I decided to follow a slightly dejected Matron Lang back to her hut. She walked up the steps to the wooden hut and turned around, staring right into my eyes. It was at this moment that she extended her hand. I suddenly felt breathless as the sensation of butterflies tinged with fear filled my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized I would be experiencing a 1:1 at my final show. I slowly took her hand, and she pulled me up into the hut.

My 1:1 with Matron Lang She was silent as she shut the door behind me, followed by the window, and then turned to face me. She slowly removed my mask, all the while never breaking eye contact, and whispered something along the lines of "That's better." I tried to say thank you, but the words caught in my dry mouth, my tongue suddenly feeling foreign and useless.

She offered me a seat, went to her desk, and prepared a cup of tea. As she did so, she locked eyes with me in a small mirror. She was not smiling. I wanted to look away, but it was so unnerving that I felt like I had to hold her gaze in fear of seeming rude.

She handed me the cup of tea with a spoon and leaned forward expectantly. I didn't know what she wanted, so after a couple of awkward beats, she gently grabbed my hand to guide the spoon into the tea and then into her mouth. I fed her the tea about three times, slowly and trying not to let my shaking hand spill any liquid onto her face.

The entire time she stared at me. I'm sure she blinked at some points, but I swear it felt like her piercing eyes never moved.

After the tea, she quietly told me a story about a young child who was all alone. "Once upon a time there was a poor child with no mother and no father. Everything was dead, and there was nobody left in the whole world. Everything was dead. The boy went on search day and night and since there was no one left on earth he wanted to go up into the heavens. The moon looked at him so friendly! But when he finally got to the moon, the moon was a piece of rotten wood. And then he went to the sun, and when he got there, the sun was a wilted sunflower. And when he went to the stars they were little golden flies stuck up there like the shrike sticks them on the blackthorn. And when he wanted to go back to earth, the earth was an overturned piss pot. And he was all alone. And he sat down and he cried, and he is still there to this day, all alone." (Apparently, this is from Büchner’s Woyzeck. I had to look it up when I got home.)

As she whispered this story, her eyes began to fill with tears, prompting mine to do the same. She held my palm, tracing the lines and occasionally squeezing my hand. She then leaned far back in her chair, pulling my hand with her so I had to lean forward. Without warning, she flung forward, grabbed my shoulders as I gasped, and whispered "It'll have blood they say, blood will have blood." She got up, put my mask on, and showed me the door. As I left, she shut the door behind her, and I was back in the woods with other white masks who were staring at me intently. I walked past them as I tried to regulate my breathing and figure out what to do next. After that adrenaline rush, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I bounced between characters as the crowds grew larger and more unruly. I saw the angry Taxidermist searching for something, finally caught the ballroom party, and helped another white mask catch pregnant Lady Macduff when she passed out. I saw the Bald Witch's transformation, the rave one final time, and then followed the Sexy Witch to the apothecary.

She knelt down, dress still hanging off of her with her chest exposed. She washed the blood off of her skin and hair in a small bowl, then stood and handed me a towel. I helped towel her off slowly, she then fixed her dress and grabbed me close to whisper "Blood will have blood" in my ear.

I followed her out to the last banquet and had a front-row spot for the finale. I'll never be able to properly describe how that scene makes me feel. The slow-motion acting, the allusion to 'The Last Supper", Macbeth's frantic "NO", followed by the snap of the noose. Absolutely chilling.

The wood groaned under the weight of the swinging body, with the creaking eventually drowned out by "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" by Glenn Miller. We were all herded out of the hotel in a haze, greeted by a loud jazz band playing old-timey renditions of current popular songs. It's a jarring switch of moods, which only seemed to exacerbate my post-show disorientation.

The 6th floor still eludes me.

Is that all there is?

#sleep no more #the mckittrick hotel #punchdrunk #sleep no more nyc #immersive theatre #macbeth

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rissarants · 6 months

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rissarants · 1 year

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This is my favorite Calvin and Hobbes gag.

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rissarants · 1 year

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The Return of Rissa

Like so many others, I have once again returned to Tumblr after watching Twitter turn into more of a dumpster fire than usual. Do I believe that Twitter will actually die? I doubt it, but the general atmosphere is changing and I’m not sure that I will always want to be a part of it. Besides, I have fond memories associated with Tumblr (although not as fond as Xanga.) This was a simple site that let me mindlessly reblog content that was related to my many hyper fixations at the time and, more excitingly, one of the ways I consistently flirted with my now-husband. One would think that coming back would be simple...

I intended to private all of my old content on my primary blog and start a secondary one, but I could not easily do so (Note: of course, I found the mass post editor after I manually went through everything.) Once upon a time, I reveled in keeping my digital footprint intact like some sort of a personal Time Capsule that I could open up and review when I was feeling nostalgic. However, I no longer get that urge and have become accustomed to simply deleting the parts of my life that I no longer identify with… and, good lord, there’s a lot. I routinely purge my tweets from over a couple of years ago and have taken to removing old posts that make me cringe as they pop up in my Facebook memories. Perhaps it’s just a result of the wisdom that comes with age, paranoia after seeing people’s shitty takes resurface after ten years go by, or that I’m just a happier person now. I may have finally found a version of myself that I am proud of… let’s see if that sticks ten years from now.

So here I am, going through what were some of the strangest years of my life here on Tumblr as if it were a dating app: swiping right on posts that still resonate and dumping the rest into the digital bonfire. It’s mildly amusing to see some of the topics I obsessed over and even more fascinating to see how my mindset has changed over the years. For example:

The Fault in Our Stars - Dear lord, the absolute chokehold this book and movie had on me at the time. Perhaps it was because I was struggling in my love life and craving that all-consuming romance that I believed the story conveyed at the time. I don’t hate the story nowadays, but some of the lines I reblogged so smugly back in the day make me cringe.

The Drama - I was brutal. The moment I felt someone had crossed me, all bets were off and I skewered them with my words on Tumblr. Did they all deserve my virtual beatdowns? Probably not. As I matured, I learned that hurt people hurt people. I was one of the wounded, lashing out to cause similar pain simply because I could. There are exceptions to the rule and some of them earned my retaliation, but at the end of the day, it didn’t do much for other people’s perceptions of me. It never made me feel better. It wasn’t healthy.

The Thinspo - Every once in a blue moon I decided I wasn’t good enough and strived for drastic weight loss. I reblogged things associated with a specific ED community, hoping it would motivate me. It never stuck, because I always had an absolute love of food and disdain for working out. I’m grateful now that things weren’t different for me at the time. Had I gotten deeper into that ED community, who knows what could have happened? I regret ever looking at those posts as something to admire and reblog. I should have never contributed to spreading that message around.

So what will I be posting here moving forward? You can expect musings about games and my experiences as a Twitch streamer. I may share my thoughts about paganism as I continue my spiritual journey. And maybe, if I’m feeling brave, I’ll share some of my creative writing. Basically, I want to start thinking, writing, and creating more. Too much of my online life has become passive, where I am only mindlessly ingesting content without putting anything of my own out into the world. It’s time to shake things up and get back in touch with my creative side. Let’s see how long this lasts.

#twitter #blog post #return to tumblr

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rissarants · 10 years

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rissarants · 11 years

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My Chemical Romance: On Memories, Moving On, and Growing Up

The news of MCR breaking up ripped through the internet like a tidal wave. Fangirls on Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram exploded in tears of anguish... and I was one of them. I know a lot of people probably rolled their eyes at my posts on FB and will continue to do so as I mourn what is (for me at least) the end of an era. So that prompted me to sit down and try to put into words what this band has meant to me. Here it is, a bunch of word vomit and emotions:

The first time I saw My Chemical Romance live was at Nassau Coliseum. It was 2007 and I was an overdressed bundle of anxiety. I had been to other concerts, but this was different. I didn't just like this band, I loved them. I finally understood how the word fan derived from fanatic. I was crazed, obsessed, and in love.

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge was the answer to all my angsty prayers as a teenager and The Black Parade helped me through even dark times. So when Juliann proposed that we see them live, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. This was the band that took each one of my overly dramatic/borderline psychotic thoughts and put them into lyrics. For some reason applying a melody to my suffering made things more bearable.

“Now come one, come all, to this tragic affair.”

We stood in the higher seats at the coliseum and my heart skipped a beat as the house lights went out. The heart monitor beeped steadily and Gerard Way himself appeared on a gurney. I had been to a lot of concerts before, but nothing had stolen my breath like that sight. He sang “The End.” and broke into “Dead!” with more energy than I had ever experienced in my life. I screamed along to every song and danced until my feet were nearly bleeding in my obscenely high heels.

A short while after that concert, Julz and I would scour a newspaper article that described the performance and proclaimed that My Chemical Romance would be headlining a show called Bamboozle. We immediately decided that the show would be our next adventure.

So we, two college girls without cars, began what felt like a pilgrimage to the not-so-far-off land of New Jersey. It was a journey of trains and a hotel room at the Sheraton, with a weekend-long diet of nothing but bagels that we had purchased from Hot and Crusty at Penn Station. I had hot pink highlights running all through my hair and the highest of hopes. I think that may have been the first show during which we experienced the beautiful moment of “Concert Friends.” A very tall ginger boy protected us from the worst of the crowd, Julz punched a girl who was sitting on top of some guy’s shoulders, and we frantically ran frogger-style across the giant highway with other people going back to the hotel.

We were addicted and proceeded to see them every chance we got. Jones Beach, Madison Square Garden, Terminal 5... if the show was close enough we made sure we were there. My Chemical Romance wasn’t just an emo band that I could steal lyrics from to express how I felt... the band provided countless experiences and adventures for me. I believe it brought me closer to my best friend and sister. I’ll never forget bringing Lizard to her first show at Jones Beach (which turned out to be the last time I saw them.) She had spent the few hours before the show painstakingly getting ready and painting a badass spider on her face. It was another generation of obsession blossoming.

So, for me, My Chemical Romance has always been more than just a band. It meant memories, fond ones that I look back on often. Like downloading ringtones onto my old-school flip phone and playing the chorus clip from Helena as I strolled the streets with my friends for a High School Scholarship drive. Screaming along with the words and giggling over how amazingly attractive Gerard was. Yelling every time their songs came on the radio and pestering our parents to raise the volume. Sitting in the car, even though we had reached our destination, and singing along until it was over.

During the darkest moments of high school, I looked forward to my long walk home just because I could listen to Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge on my Discman. Unlike Evanescence, despite the dark themes and undertones, MCR always had a message of hope laced in each song. They lifted me when my immature teenage mind thought all hope was lost.

Deep down I knew this day would come eventually. It’s the frightening part of growing older... everything changes. Everything eventually ends. It just caught me by surprise because they claimed to be working on a new album that went back to their original sound.

But what hits me the hardest has nothing to do with the band and everything to do with myself. I’m dangerously close to the wrong side of my twenties and I’ve found myself growing quite nostalgic. I need to actively remind myself that there are still amazing journeys and memories to be made... but it’s still frightening. I’m an adult and more often than not, I feel as lost as ever.

“So long and goodnight...”

#My Chemical Romance #MCR #Killjoys #MCRmy #So Long And Goodnight #Dead!#The End.#Helena #Blog #original content

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