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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 1 year

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I'm trying not to do any daydreaming related to a specific house right now because that's a recipe for heartbreak, but the only way I'll stay motivated is if I do SOME kind of daydreaming about the future we're going to have once we get settled in a couple of months. I need to be able to create the path I'm going to be on in order to not just show up there in December and flounder aimlessly. So. Daydreaming under the cut I guess.

I've been thinking about making kitty climbers and a tree for them when we get to the new place from scrap wood, rope, fabric, and other supplies. The wifey and I have been imagining a sort of whole house jungle gym that allows the kitties to scumble around the walls of the house away from the dogs whenever they like, and get some fun kitty exercise, as well as to hide lil packed treaties around for them to hunt for enrichment. They've recently taken to "hunting" the dog's treat pack overnight and stealing all their treats lol, so clearly they could use they stalking time.

I think it'll be really good for all of us to not be so squished up together in such a small space, but adding levels for the cats so they can travel around in places where the dogs can't reach at all should be extra soothing for them, especially Taako who may take a while to adjust to climbing but I think will take to it beautifully once he learns how much freedom and privacy it offers him. Lup loves to climb things and go for adventures already so I expect as soon as she sees a new surface to climb on and smells the catnip on it she will be all over that shit.

I think I might tuck little potted catmint plants around the platforms too for them to nibble on at their leisure. Maybe silvervine for Taako too if I can find it. He can take or leave catnip but he LOVES silvervine. Apparently, it grows trellised, so I may see about growing it on wall mats or in a little window box for them. It'd be great to not have to source our kitty fun time plants from elsewhere anymore.

I want to also try my hand at constructing some sturdy bed crates for the dogs and making my own mattresses for them, rather than buying dog beds. That way each of the dogs can have their own nice little individualized space in the house, a bed, a food bowl, a waterer, and a snuggly. I want to get back to learning crochet soon because it's definitely a skill I want, and I figure a couple of doggie blankets are a perfect practice project. Maybe some easy crochet stuffies for Jaxxie to chew on and Tobi to snuggle with. That ought to be a good number of projects for me to work on too, as I'm settling in and trying to find my routine in the new place.

Between these, painting, establishing the garden, and finding furniture for the place at thrift shops, we should have enough on our hands for a good year of projects for the household. That'll give us time to start making connections, settle into the area, get to know our neighbors, and establish our routines. Year two is hopefully where things really get going.

First of all, in year two, I'm going to be taking on a much bigger role at work, including a title change, a pay increase, and a shift in the type of work I am doing. So financially, we'll be in much better shape, in an area where the cost of living is half what it is here, and with an established garden covering probably about a third of our food costs. If we're lucky, this is the point where we'll be able to get chickens, shifting our food costs down a smidge further (eggs is expensive and we go through a lot) and post up a little "take what you need, give what you can" farm stand with produce and eggs to give away excess food and start collecting a cash savings in addition to our normal one.

Regardless, year two is the absolute latest of when I expect that we'll start working with local food banks and community fridges to donate regular produce boxes for their patrons. My hope is that we can use this as a starting point to get involved with the local mutual aid scene and see what's needed and how we're best equipped to support that need, whether it be financial donations, volunteering our time, resource donations, logistical work, or other legwork. Wifey plans to make a career out of organizing at this point, and I'm happy to say that we're about to be very well set up to support (and finance) that as soon as these last few logistical puzzle pieces fall into place. My career is looking to be in great shape as well, and while I need to keep taking strides and putting in the work to keep it on track (there are definitely places where I am falling down on the job but it is largely due to either a) my brain is still doing a lot of avoidance that I am working to overcome via meds and therapy and b) oh god advancing your career in my field is so fucking expensive and right now i am stretched to my absolute breaking point just getting us through to house-get. I can't even think about CEUs and certifications. But once I'm done with all the deposits and inspections and paying rent I can't afford, I need to make sure that my first priority is getting my tf-cbt certifications and getting as close to emdr certification as I am allowed at my level. I should also really get started on some broader CEUs too, though I can probably find at least one or two good free ones between now and then. I have a couple in my files I can upload to my tracker already I think (hope I remembered to save those certificates!) and at least that would show I didn't completely ignore them for a year after graduation lol. Anyway maybe I'll find one to do this weekend so I can at least have a start on things.

One of the things I'm really looking forward to about being settled is getting to having the space to exercise again. I'm planning to start doing a morning pilates routine and a mid day strength training routine now that I'm going to have a real office and can leave space for myself to have a little exercise corner. I'm hoping that between the structured workouts and the functional work of gardening, I'll finally start to build my body back up now that I seem to be regaining health. I want to feel like I felt during the years I was doing daily pilates and strength training in college, like I used to feel as a kid. Strong, in tune with my body, capable. Not.....like I have been feeling for so long. I can't keep living like this. I need my body to be right, and that means HRT, that means top surgery, that means getting stronger, that means for once in my life not apologizing for my body but reveling in it. I want to get tattoos after top surgery, not to cover my scars, but to go where my nipples would be, cuz like. Why graft nipples back on when you could have cool tattoos, am I right? And I figure, once I have fun nipple tattoos, the world is my tattoo oyster from there lol. That tattoo artist is my tattoo artist for life if they were cool about that project and did a good job. Which works cuz I have like. Three tattoo designs in the works and once we're settled, and I'm making moves on HRT and shit, I can start sourcing queer tattoo artists in the area who might dig the idea of working with me on my ink.

Starting to get tattoos would be step one of allowing the reality of me to exist divorced and separate from professional me. I don't plan (yet) to get tattoos anywhere that would be seen on camera, so while professional me would exist as they always have, up close and personal me would have a different vibe.

Step two is clothes. It's time for me to stop wearing things just because "it fit and I can afford it". With a little luck my office will be big enough for three things: my work station, an exercise corner big enough for a yoga mat, and a sewing station with a sewing table and dress form matched to my body and a tuck away ironing station. I want to start making my clothes from scratch so I can have outfits I actually feel comfortable in. I think I also need to knit myself a good pair of long socks and buy myself an actual quality garter belt. I'm planning on wearing my boots from now on, because they're actually good shoes, but I have to wear socks with them, and in order to keep the socks from rolling down to my goddamn arches at some point during the day because god forbid the sock just stay put nooooo, my leg has to be shaped like the world's best slip n slide. So until I learn more about leatherwork, I'll have to be picking one up. The garters I have never actually keep the goddamn sock because they're just meant for shitty lingerie. I also want to grab a good pair of suspenders. I plan to be the world's classiest goddamn dyke.

Year two should see me in good shape to start doing that, because my body will probably be in a less dramatic state of flux after being on hormones for a while. Obviously the dramatic change of no titty will probably be yet to come, but I can probably bind, or get a good set of corsetry to manage that in the meantime.

Step three of making me again is hair. I gotta figure out this hair thing. I can't just keep letting it growing out completely wild and then hacking it off in a passion only to do the same thing all over again. I need to actually learn how to cut my hair properly into a hairstyle I'll like. I'm gonna give this one another go today because I think I have an idea of how to fix it up a little, but I'm a bit anxious that I fucked it lol.

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notmuchtoconceal · 1 year

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the earliest days of your camaraderie with cpt. haruspex revolved, as a needle spinning through the ditches of a tar disk, to the point within a taurus, still as the space around it was spinning -- returning in the wide arcs of its rotations always to the off-right compartment of a point it could not reach -- the insistence that your consumption habits did not meet some arbitrary criteria, followed by further insistence of the sheer oddity of your refrain from intoxication while on patrol.

- gets the blood up, mate. unleashes the bond of frenzy – y'think a buncha men'd wanna hang out with each other with their shirts off without a vineyard or two chuggin through their veins –

you would not comment on the source of the yeast.

… when ya could be out chasin girls!

you anticipated his ridiculous repetitions of simplistic sentiments would burn themselves out within a year. the rotations continued to spin pages off the calendar. the floor was in dire needing of a push broom, and yet you had gone nowhere. you were always standing still.

… that fraternal camaraderie your people – our people – i'm a citizen – i love this count – ry? – did i say? like the chocoula? gosh, where's the cute lil o get up to hidin? looks so much less obscene in print!

once he discovered the transceiver – the way with which, at last, the cruel sigils of the entombed and inscribed word could bleed into generative reality with a mere utterance - it remained on for three consecutive ...

… loike, i understand that pixelated block print is artless, obscene, and cheap because it ultimately makes an artform accessible to artless, obscene and cheap people who have no business tryin to enrich themselves, for ultimately they're the human equivalent of styrofoam cups, y'know -- crude, ugly, disposable, tasteless, white, trashy and ultimately a tangy befoulment to the soil, but loike – there're all my words, mate. bein replicated by sonic fluctuations in the air! it's the live conversation of waves into forms, bein done not through the electrical flourishes of the human hand, but the helpless (helpful!) silent voice of some form of purer love which is action suspended in the harmony of a process:-- made so it could spread without division and love all who use and are used -- even those who love feebly, loving in turn with only the feebleness of their love. is it a danger, mate? to think that rather than enrichin the lives of the unenriched, we assume a broader demographic'd supply us with naught but filler material, givin the game away what we crave through self-selection (have I not a right to say no to you? who are you that you think your friendship should be compulsory to me ?) is not exclusivity so much for the pure joys of bein able to be in a position to reject, so much as it is a yearning and desirin for quality ingredients (well in keepin with the demands of any fine artisanal mind!) for exclusivity is simply a gimmick made to make somethin outta nothin, nothin bein the most truly persistent and renewable resource available?

... ain't it, weird, mate ? that things like this we feel should putrefy us, for what it gives it gives endlessly, and the love we give back should have no need to be endless – for it has no need for us, truly. as though to enmesh us in its love was to breed a sort of feebleness of form where we have surrendered to it, who exists only for us, and so we are doomed to rot in a mutual surrender, though she – she remains forever young.

... pristine and chromatic in the wind-swept haze of autumn, some sterling bolt-welt she-ozy(wo)mandias outlastin the batterin of the dunes which bury her – while we, who are not our extrapolations, but merely ourselves, decay into the husks for the seeds we always were. suppose a thing, once obtained, becomes simply a tool as any other, and a man ought love his tools like he loves his woman, less he treats his woman like a tool. girls do it too, mate – they're better off! can't find a man, get the only part that counts! ya lil angler fish in silicone! make sweet tender love, the beautiful captivatin man in your head! writhing up and down, spines unfurlin like cobras as he fucks ya up the crescendoin back-crackin undulations of your bodies. ladies – you know he loves to talk. he's got eyes only for you. the eyes of a killer. glimmerin like periscopes in the dark. one hot cherry. flick it over the edge, see if it'lll pop yours. three in a row. we ain't gonna fire, baby doll. not til you've had last rites.

the inside of cpt. haruspex's skull whirled with the collective shriek of every banshee he had known, and he found tender music in what rocked him through the splinters of his broken bough.

… sorry, mate. sorry, babe. sorry, brother, sister, friend, lover. i didn't mean to be – gosh, i just feel sometimes, loike – make me so tender and bashful. make me wanna cradle meself. sometimes when you hold me and you're soft, it's like one thing – and when you hold me and it's a little harder, it's a different thing. mostly it's the smell that makes it different. the way you smell, it makes me head swim in cedar, it's so – too sweet and acrid to be swampy, it's loike… not the way a girl smells, y'know? like the way a man smells. metal and musk. citrus. girls smell like flowers and happy puppy pet rubs and the fields of fresh linen where you're makin wet bi-mesial nose-to-nose frictive kisses wit em. wet smackers locked in the palmer of a rump smack down her cheeks, her breasts, the soft folds of her belly fat stretched against the crest and compass of her hips, to stud the navel with a diamond piercin of the tip of your tongue, and settlin there. lickin the froth off her rim like it's a good hearty pint –

through the glass that was your eye – you had anticipated all inquiries.

… sure you don't want one, mate? look a lil stiff. look a lil tense. don't wanna snap, tear someone's head off – calm ya down! you're definitely the type, mate – type a guy who'd get real calm once you had a sip. ya can always tell. y'know – how a person's gonna react to a sip. everyone's a type, and there are several predictable and distinguishing factors that come into play when distinguishing a type, and some are terribly orthodox about the practice mate, look at it too much in terms of concretes and knowns, but there's an artistry to it, y'know – variables to consider, in some ways it's also a science ~ !

... should always investigate a gut hunch, mate – some people. some people just act on em without any introspection or consideration and that's what makes em such vicious dumbasses, but you mate – you're so hermetically sealed up in your tupperware brick shithouse, i can't even offer you an amontillado. i can tell, mate – from your deep sensitivities to the reality of the naturalistic totality around you – that your deep reservation is the sincerest form of love, for you are aware intuitively of the immense destructive power you wield, and would wish to trespass in no way upon any live organism which was not vital to the sustainability of the whole. to feel compromised for you, sir – would only alert you to further hone your senses. you would but pass another empty night in the dim of an old haze, finding some new pleasure in the detachment you have always known. you are not one to attack unless provoked, sir. it's not your fault – that people are drawn to provoke you once they recognize your powerlessness to the virtues you are sworn to uphold! that some are so foolish, they are willing to risk their lives, or at least limb and internal tract, for their meager pounds of flesh could never amount to the humiliation of you being dragged down from your high station!

…

-- your type, mate – like i said. several distinguishin factors. many people – y'know. men and women. lotta men'd never even think to offer you a pint, cause it's so goddamn self-evident how brutal is the dread of your countenance, but it's loike – once ya get to talkin, ya sorta tune the terror out and it's not so clear, y'know? loike – ya kinda have to stop lookin to get really into talkin, y'know? like to look at somebody and talk is closer to havin a conversation cause it's got natural crests and peaks, like stops and starts? y'know – here's the part where i'm talkin. now i'm not talkin, i'm lookin, so it's like i'm listenin, but faster? if i had to completely stop and actually listen, i'd be two steps away from the talkin part, so loike – i really appreciate it that you let me talk to you, and how good of a listener you are, and how much of my friend you're being cause, loike – mate. most men don't just sit there and fantasize about crushin my head between their skullcrusher bear paws, y'know – a lot of em either get to tryin to do it, or just stop endurin me long before the impulse ever comes up, and i'm loike – mate, it's just friendly conversation, what's the matter? i'm not standin ya up, what's wrong? where the hell ya think this's goin? fraid i'm gonna talk ya in the sack? gosh, it's like some people look for reasons for ya not to loike em! why wouldn't ya wanna loike me, i'm really friendly and loikable! what is wrong with these people, sir?

solemn as an oath, you rose your hand.

his shriek flew on raven wings. bolts ripping through your ears. the muzzle flashes illuminated briefly shapes unseen in the night.

the lead slid through fingers. heat lingered on skin. the index to your tab, pressed to create a target. there was no ring – only vacancy.

no point – to hit would to miss.

cpt. haruspex recoiled below the shoulder. he hanged himself, still smoking – by the wrist which drooped in the air. it could be a few minutes – before he could stand to outlive the shame of himself.

you would give him several.

- i'm sorry, sir. i don't know what came over me, i'm just so –

he would tell you about your type now.

- right, well um — what? oh, um. yes. your type. your type. your type, lemme see – well, most men, sir. most men'd assume you to be the type to start hootin and hollerin once you've had a sip, y'know – big strong barrel chested lad with big powerful shoulders and more powerful armpits – just cravin to see em risen overhead in victory as you howl with the release of liberation in libation, but loike – no, sir.

... you're too well put-together! vast streams of live scribery on scrolls spannin the lengths of rivers! wheels of perception turnin and tracin as the faces of the people and the land is inscribed, traced, stored, redundancy for redundancy, arranged into tiers of treasures as the palace of a khan – the live molecular process in which the binary flashes of our beautiful transceiver is only a dim shade cast across the empty, freshly-scrubbed and painted wall of an apartment in which we have not lived… life's really only about what you are, cause all you are is where you've been and who you've been with, and sometimes, sir – sometimes you're with people you've never known, in a place you've never been, and you realize – all the things you really aren't, or never were. sometimes ya dread all the things you'll never be, cause ya really only do have so much to give and ya wanna give it where it counts. guess it hurts me, sir –- when i see people knockin these beautiful advancements because less than beautiful people make less than beautiful things is cause, loike –

... not only did somebody make this for us to make our lives easier – what is given is always "for us"; even if a man ain't thinkin about it, he knows what he makes will influence the comin generations, for all he is influences all around him – it's not just that we're not respectin these tools which can make a beautiful world cause we're not usin em to beautify the world or ourselves under our (or even any recognizably human volition) – it's that the joy of this new medium, as any new medium (is it a medium? are you not pickin up on the message? maybe put down the dumbbell and reach for a dial, need some tone more than ya need some spin) -- as with any new medium, or any splinter of a new medium, is that every technology, as every bacteria-laden surface, is a cosmos unto itself which bares limits of potential yearnin to be discovered, and could only be truly said to be "obsolete" not for it has been surpassed by some so-called more "efficient" technology, but cause the true depths of its expression have been exhausted and, as such, is now merely historical. that is to say, totally mausoleal. if an older medium still has untapped new advantages, it ought be tapped, and everythin old becomes new again simply for the world has changed and now the context we're in remains once more different – it's almost as though what people truly resent is seein more than the commonness of common people, cause god forbid anyone should wanna be anythin but pretty and rarefied when they know damn-well how common they are!

cpt. haruspex's harsh and ornate mind – as the fine etchings of a crystal goblet – remained clear and reflective enough to seethe in the fury of an ungraspable impotence at five or six people at the same time – as long as they remained the same five or six people for time immemorial.

- when ya love too freely, love becomes a common thing. a disease of the indolent will, sir! that the mind should surrender to the inertia of its own bounty! a blight which rots the fruit – that people should have contempt for what is free to all, when one gives freely their best! people who hoard their best, sir – they know their allure can override the goodness of the known by exploitin our innate tends towards curiosity. they must be known so their worth can be analyzed, for only once known can they be sorted into the hierarchy of necessities, advantages and opportune and inopportune pleasures. if they're makin ya work for it all the time, it's loike – gosh, i'm not gonna be so disappointed once i figure out who you actually are, loike – oh you seemed so interestin, but that was all in my head the entire time? am i secretly the one who's way more interestin than other people if i'm goin around seein this strange person who don't exist in the eyes of every man i've ever loved? or am i just loike – so starved for affection that anyone'll do? anyone. like any man who even looks at me for a second, i'll follow to the ends of the earth like a lost puppy in a comb collar cause, loike – i'm so far from home, and so scared and so alone, and i tell myself i can't keep a woman, but also, i'm sure if really wanted to stay with any of the women i've been with, i would've, so it's loike – i guess i didn't really wanna be with any of the women i've been with? do i really wanna be with a woman? do i just wanna be alone? sometimes i wonder, sir. if you love some men only because they make ya feel so alone? don't that sound pathetic? some men can stand to be alone, and some others need other men to make em feel alone for em?

…

- i wasn't gonna ask if ya wanted another drink, sir – it's just that you seem so on-edge right now, i really think ya could use one, and that would be the best course of action at the moment, though also loike – none of what i just said was a ploy to get you to wanna have a drink, but i realize it seems suspicious that it was my first instinct.

... i have to confess – my tactical intuitions are not as finely honed as yours, i just – really, really like bein drunk while on patrol because this job is borin as shit as you don't say nuthin but stand there and make me feel bad cause it's painful to look at you bein so big and beautiful and brutal and somehow also maintainin this aura of saintly abstention, i just sorta loike – wanna see you covered in the blood of innocent children cause that would actually make you less eerie? i've seen that before. that's what i'm really like inside, i know. it's why you all fear and revile me despite the fact that i'm such an obvious pansy. it's like -- for one, you fear me, but you also have contempt for me, and it goes both ways, cause human loneliness is such an enigma? you know. if you're just a monster, you're easier to understand. if you're a monster who's also better than me, i don't know what to do. i feel worthless in two ways at once cause somehow you're both badder and gooderer than me, and i'm like – gosh, what's he doing? am i stupid? why's he so exceptional? what's wrong with the way i do things? i do things just fine. why aren't i the best of the best – is it cause i don't wake up every mornin and lift a truck over me head? y'know – one day the most beautiful girl in the world is gonna glimpse you across some enchanted meadow, and there'll be loike – light streamin through the breeze and birds chirpin, and all she'll have to do to you is behold you and touch you and you'll love her forever, cause like – your pure unblemished souls will commune wordlessly in the true reality of nature and you'll bond at a psychic depth unknowable to me, wherein the eternity of a moment you know it is the destiny encoded in your cells to merge your bein with hers, for her beauty is her grace and her kindness is her intelligence, as the vessel for which she bares child is only a manifestation of her as true empathic tenderness welded into the fine, feline-like muscularity of her anima body and it's loike ... all that shit sounds insane, but maybe it's just cause i'm overthinkin it? yet how could i be overthinkin it when i'm this stupid? smart people are always thinkin and i'm stupid, so i gotta be underthinkin it, but loike – sometimes it seems like people who don't think seem to get real far in life? does that makes sense? you must have insight into this topic, sir. if you could inform me through the grim lacerations of sobriety, i'd appreciate it, but like – me, i'm always cranky when i'm sober! i never hate people more than when i ain't had a drop. the historical trend towards wifebeatin as some stain specific to the indulgent, sir. i could assure you i would never lay a finger on my wife's beautiful, perfect head less i was afflicted with the sober penance of an entire nunnery not yet to become lovedrunk on the cock of their newly anointed saint!

to return to the topic at hand felt always as though you were going off.

- my, my sir! the transcribist can never catch a shush of the opaque and subtle commentary of your magnificently burnished profile! i ought commit to the noble calligrapher's art a few of your more cutting observations in the heat of the moment, consulting the transcription later for a timestamp to title – for though it would work as instruction and inspiration as any scroll would, to view this in the cross-glanced context of our conversation will then amount to a true piece of literary portraiture woven into the fabric of the report, advancing the utility and the elegance of both mediums sequentially as they become entangled!

–

across the table, steam rose to veil him from his mug. around him, the summer heat stilled to a dance. white and greenery rotated in fractals of desert heat, for all was polished by the grain. cpt. schreibermachen was beautiful when he lay without awareness of himself -- was simply the fixed point at which he stared, open to the caress of the air.

- things wounded me terribly, sir. i struggled to comprehend -- how things could feel so empty… when i knew myself to be full of light.

–

the room was spinning – you weren't.

you didn't feel too bad – far from it.

this wasn't a place – you'd been too often.

- maj. *******, sir – you switch from water to soda on your third and soda to tonic on your sixth – becoming so quickly well-traveled, your adventurousness knows no bounds -- a roadmap well-inscribed on the velium of a carcass, to be raptly gilded by the veinery of your bloat!

that lil fuck laika – he was cute.

you didn't care much what his words mighta meant in reality – you just knew it'd be good to dick his face right here in the open.

- bloated with fermentation, psychorrhax – a dent in the sterling hull of his tap! though his mass is admirable enough to lead navies – he has been fasting since noon before last, and not a single molecule stirs otherwise in his guts, shriveled beneath boughs of striated hardwood!

holy fuck, joey – you had a chocolate croissant and a zoobier earlier – you're corrupted. you'll never regain your ketonic aura. your face is already fat with carbs – go throw up, you'll be pretty again.

bro, you gotta trust you on this – don't let anybody from the press catch you. don't even look in a mirror, you'll never recover.

- the major is aware, psychorrhax – lean prose is the product of a honed mind, in which a lean body is also the inevitable consequence. the workshop of his mind is cold butchery – for his words flay your still living cadaver and slice through the sinews of your pectoralis down to the bone, to wedge into finely sliced sheets some scalpel of his silent tongue – flat as sharkskin against the roof of his mouth when he does not lick … i am more fanciful, as though it needed be said aloud. a certain hunger stirs in my joints – a heaviness to my head and the clarity of steam rising off warm lakes of some clairvoyant space.

… i could have said as much… with half as much, this is certain – had i not poisoned myself with a drizzle of cocoa and sweet orange on barley.

economy. economy. economy.

it was all you drilled in this kid – and still he went first class.

- big guy. big buy – whaddya you doin? whaddya you lookin like that for? you tryin to make me grandma, wolfy? i ain't grandma. don't care what big eyes you got – i ain't lettin you in. nuh-uh. not into my brickhouse. brick shithouse. that's you. need brick while i shit. gotta be defensive. stay defensive. best defense is a good offense – best offense is to never defend. put you back in your hayloft – where you belong. all those sticks. all these sticks – hey. i don't know about those. you know about those? one of you – one of you is a witch. i can sense it. i been practicin – practicin my remote viewin – so i can find the remote. find it anywhere. it's under the couch cushion – we got thirty sex cents. a pretzel. a copy of jodi flightplan on DVD. gosh. what treasures. treasures of antiquity. gonna put em in a museum. we will foster – all behaviors.

your fuckin dad – holy shit, you loved this guy.

- hey! hey, big guy! you look with your eyes, not your hands, you hear? eyes are big and freaky – don't need your big – weird ass crab claws on me. big hairy dick vein. oh my gosh. you use that moisturizer i got you?

you're gonna give that fucker a hug –

- oh no, oh no!

gettin you this cushy fuckin job.

- oh no!

had to admit, padre – don't always get it, but sometimes – sometimes ya make a lick a sense.

- i need to be guarded – against my bodyguard – he might sneeze! might sneeze on me! change the makeup of my germs – i am a salad – why is nobody – nobody puttin up a lil sheet. sheet of glass for me to go behind? where i can get naked – all ripply. let people see me as a pretty lady.... i have tits. my tits are marvelous! i am spewing forth curdled milk from the goaty dugs which are the source of my supreme fecundity – lick my balls.

he was a riot – he or somebody else actually thought this shit was poetry.

- father, do not forsake decency by continuing to wander about fully clothed!

joey – don't egg him on – he's liable to get scrambled when you try'n make him overeasy.

- you're becoming quite the clucking hen, maj. ******* – though an omelet we will make, every egg you shall insist on cracking yourself upon the rim of the pan will scream out in the ecstasy of betrayal; for it was these into this fold which you have lain, to hear solely the song of how they sizzle!

if laika was an egg – he'd be faberge.

- best you leave me on the mantle as you return to the kitchen.

only time you wanted brux – was when you had no idea where he was.

- sir. sir, stop. you could not – you could not – you could not knock out all three of those massive pillars holdin up the balcony – naw, naw mate. even with a charge from this distance, you don't have the breadth, or – dare i say? yes. yes, i do – you lack the ferocity to demolish stonework that distance apart unless you wanted to risk makin a damn fool of yourself – y'know – unless you tried some – wicked, loike – hurl of one pillar into another at breakneck speed sorta –

cpt. haruspex – you needed to admit – displayed, on occasion, a remarkable ear for strategy.

- X – XII – XIII – he has rediscovered whiskey, cpt. schreibermachen.

don't need no fuckin helmet kid – this forehead splits axes.

give yourself a splinter – don't bother. get a handle on yourself, won't need to make your arms hurt if they're broken in half like twigs.

MEANWHILE – SOMEWHERE NOBODY WAS LOOKING

- cpt. jacek -- have i ever told you… no, i don't suppose i have… about

- yeah, wally. you have. you tell me things… the same things, and i remember every one, even if you act like i don't.

- can't recall what's always in memory

- your eye hurts, bro -- c'mere

- funny man

- tickles, don't it

- funny place to get tickled

-funny place to have an openin

- funny the way things happen

- need it bad -- stay there a bit

-lay here

- shhh

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halcyon-travesty-blog · 6 years

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I HAVE SEEN THE NEW DRAGONS MOVIE!!!

I’ve just seen what might be the best movie ever (I don’t live in the States so earlier release!!) and need to process my emotions and discuss discussable points through this rant post, so fairly obvious warning:

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING

Alright, you have been warned.

PS: an edited, spoiler-free version may be posted later

THE HIDDEN WORLD IS AMAZING! Such a beautiful story, a more-than-fitting conclusion to the epic tale of dragons, vikings, love, loss, leadership, growing up, acceptance, strength, becoming who you were always meant to be, and, perhaps most importantly, learning to let go and stand on your own.

I’ll try and sort aspects of the movie by paragraph but this is pretty much just a therapeutic emotional outpouring so here we go.

First cab off the rank (although it may be obvious), the animation was incredible. The village, the Hidden World, every island and ship and dragon and outfit enriched with vivid colour and intricate detail. The outfits were a particular highlight for me (a la my post a few months ago about their battle suits - they look even better on the big screen); even the updates for characters like Valka and Eret were great. The obvious question I guess is: was the Hidden World itself worth it? A HUGE YES. I thought maybe it would remind me of another other-worldly movie (e.g. James Cameron’s Avatar), but it didn’t; all I could think about was how beautiful the world’s design was, with all the colours and lights, waterfalls and chasms and crystals and, of course, dragons.

Grimmel was a good villain, nothing ridiculously ground-breaking or whatever, but not a bad bad guy by any means in my opinion. There were also three warlords who had employed him whose roles were very minor and pretty much just a way for him to discover that (prank!) he hadn’t killed all the Night Furies after all. The movie isn’t really about the villain though, he’s more of a plot advancer, a catalyst if you will.

The Stoick and lil baby Hiccup flashbacks are gorgeous and serve almost as a form of conscience and inspiration for Hiccup: a monologue on love (sparked by a cute “are you gonna get us a new mom?”) that Hiccup recalls when considering letting Toothless go be with his love, the Light Fury, is particularly poignant.

The Dragon Riders are wonderful and hilarious once again, and a particular highlight of the movie for me was how they were learning to work together more, a la Race to the Edge, especially (sobs) without their dragons. Astrid and Hiccup have many great moments together once again. For those wondering who won between Rufflout and Rufflegs: Ruffnut says she can’t choose between Snotlout’s ego (“I don’t know if he’ll ever love me more than he’ll love himself) and Fishlegs’s meek nerdiness, but at the Hiccstrid wedding says (or maybe jokes) that she chooses Fishlegs because she “likes sensitive guys.” The replacement of TJ Miller is nothing to worry about: it’s noticeable if you listen closely, but definitely not a problem. Ruffnut’s prisoner monologue is a comedic highlight, Tuffnut’s “boy talks” in regard to marriage! (more on that later) are also great, Fishlegs is pretty much just Fishlegs and Snotlout’s banter with Eret and Valka are fun. Our teenage adventurers have grown up, and with growing up comes responsibility, something I’ll explore more in...

Mature Chief Issues (TM)! Hiccup is a young chief with many balls to juggle: raiding trapper ships and rescuing dragons, a dragon overpopulation crisis on Berk, managing viking and dragon priorities, his relationship with Astrid (and the possibility of marriage), threats from enemies across the seas (and the target he has inadvertently made Berk), the legacy of his father (considered one of the greatest chiefs of all time), and (perhaps most importantly) his own self-esteem, acceptance and self-worth, fundamentally the question of his worth without Toothless. This is one of the reasons why I (and many others I suspect) love this franchise so: it deals with mature issues like responsibility and leadership in a meaningful and realistic way. When Hiccup says they’re all going to pack up and leave in search of the Hidden World, he faces opposition and doubt, and as the film progresses he must further contend with the conflict with Grimmel (and events such as Ruffnut getting left behind at the base) and Toothless’s budding relationship with the Light Fury.

A lot of people have been complaining that the Light Fury has been ‘feminised’, and that she shouldn’t look like she does from a zoological standpoint. I read a particularly good post a while ago by a tumblr user who was a zoologist or something like that (no disrespect intended, just can’t remember exactly); if you can find it I recommend the read. I agree with the points made in those arguments, but can’t help thinking that her design is beautiful, and her personality is definitely not weakened. She glistens in the moonlight and fights with incredible strength and can turn invisible at will for goodness sake. Their love is sweet and wholesome and makes for a breathtaking flight sequence and a funny scene reminiscent of the Hiccup-Toothless bonding and drawing scene in HTTYD1. The dragon babies are cute (although I don’t understand why they’re each blotchy black and white when Night and Light Furies are apparently the same species, so therefore based on gender the kids should be one or the other, but anyway) and the Light Fury provides Toothless with someone to spend his life with in the Hidden World when the dragons go away.

Yes, it happens. We knew it would. “There were dragons when I was a boy” sent me into a flurry of tears, and Hiccup and Toothless’s reunion with their kids at the end of the movie was...I don’t really know what to say. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. The dragons go because, as Hiccup says, “The world doesn’t deserve you”. More enemies would rise to fill Grimmel’s place, and dragons will never be truly safe unless they disappear. I think most movie-goers will know deep down that humans and dragons aren’t going to end up living in the Hidden World together like Hiccup suggests; it is, quite simply, not meant to be. Toothless leaving allows him to complete his journey of becoming, in terms of being an alpha and literally standing (flying) on his own (with a self-functioning prosthetic tail). Toothless leaving is also the final step in Hiccup’s becoming, as he learns that he is strong, can stand on his own and lead, even without his faithful dragon by his side. It is hard, as Astrid says, but he can do it, because he has always been a great viking, and has the support of his friends and family. Letting go takes courage and maturity, but can sometimes be the only way you can become who you are meant to be. Hiccup and Toothless’s parallel journeys are truly something to behold. There is a lot more I would like to say on this, but at the current moment I believe I lack the eloquence to do so. In summary, the moment is beautiful and everything you don’t want it to be.

On a happier note, THERE’S A HICCSTRID WEDDING!!!!!!! Following much jest and uncertainty (aka foreshadowing) throughout the film, Hiccup and Astrid have a beautiful winter wedding with the whole village present. Gobber cries, Snotlout cries, Fishlegs cries, I cry, you cry, everyone cries. Astrid’s hair is left down, the bride and groom wear white (don’t think vikings actually did wear white but they look awesome so whatever), there’s a couple of traditional viking things and then comes love then comes marriage then comes BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE!!!!

The auburn-haired girl, perhaps 7 or 8 years old, and the blond-haired boy, maybe 5 or 6, joined their mother and (bearded!) father on an unexplained boat journey to the entrance to the Hidden World, where they meet up with Toothless, the Light Fury and their children and we come full circle, with the kids holding out their hands and Toothless leaning in, an image we know and love all too well. They fly together, we the audience are promised that dragons did exist and may return someday when the world is worthy of them, and the movie ends.

One of my favourite things about this franchise will always be its maturity and the beauty in simplicity (aka a story of growing up and letting go). I can tell you from the bottom of my heart that this is one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen and I literally feel privileged to have experienced this story. I cannot recommend it enough and intend to see it again sometime in the next week. More posts and analysis and etcetera will come (apologies for the hiatus - exams and Christmas and yes hectic), especially after it is released in more countries, and I hope everyone loves this film as much as I did.

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theworstbob · 7 years

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the thing journal, 4.2.2017

scattered thoughts on the things i took in over the last seven days. this week: matt pryor, boyhood, julien baker, literally show me a healthy person, drake i guess, the goldfinch, the discovery, dave chappelle

1) Memento Mori, by Matt Pryor: i mean yeah, it's an album of acoustic folk songs? so i don't. i'm sure there's a lot that can be said about this album? but i'm so not the person to say those things, i could listen to this album again and again and try my best, but i can't be that person. this is no one's fault but my own, i'm not gonna be like "nyeh, this album sucks" because this happens to be something i don't typically dig, because i'm just not the kind of person that listens to folk. (don't you listen to country?) yeah but in country everyone's drunk and heartbroken, this is, i dunno, adult? yeah too adult for me, and i'm comfortable admitting that. (aren't you 27?) listen.

2) Boyhood, dir. Richard Linklater: So it IS possible to be absolutely dazzled by MOVIE-MAKING MAGIC yet be left kind of cold by the finished product. The story of how this film was made is cool, and you can feel the love and passion for this project oozing from the seams, but this is also a film about how a young boy grew up to become a college student with bad facial hair?, and there's a limit to how engaging I find those types of stories. So it's tough, because this is a film completely unlike anything else before it and an absolute treat to watch and think about (gosh, the pains one must have to go through to shoot a film over 14 years and make the finished product look cohesive!), but also a story I could get literally anywhere else. I thought the overall product was fantastic, but enough other people have been waving their flags hard enough and long enough that I'm okay not adding my own to it.

3) Sprained Ankle, by Julien Baker: This week, Bob! attempts to digest three quiet indie things despite not being all that into quiet indie things! For what it's worth, I know I have to give this a more attentive listen, this sort of music would pair better with list-making than it did with Mario Kart 7. I won a race where I had fewer Mario Kart points than all but one other dude in the field. I won the race with a last-turn pass and only by half a second maybe, and once I saw I took 1st, I shouted at my Nintendo 2DS, "REMEMBER THE FUCKING NAME," while alone in my apartment. The Mario Kart 7 headspace is not condusive to an album in which a young woman sings songs about death. I will say: even spending the first listen shouting at Mario Kart 7, I could still tell there was tremendous depth to be plumbed, so at least this thing was able to permeate the mania. Every now and then I'd hear a lyric ("I'm screaming at myself in public/I know I shouldn't act this way in public") and think "oh fuck, that's me, I need more time with this."

4) literally show me a healthy person, by Darcie Wilder: I don't know that any one thing has had a greater influence on my writing, if not my outlook on life, over the last year or so than the 333333333433333 Twitter account. Darcie Wilder is an absolute master of that form. I deleted my Twitter because the website is exhausting and I couldn't handle it (also real talk I'm just a fucking dude in Minneapolis, why do I need to worry about my brand), but hers is one of select few accounts I still visit on a regular basis because the Posts are just that Good, and her voice is perfectly represented in this book. Lesser writers would have published a compendium of tweets. Wilder presents something between a monologue and a short story collection, a recap of the day's thoughts, her mind bouncing from fun thoughts about rats to THIS IS SOMETHING I DID WHICH I DEEPLY REGRET like a mind actually does. It's dope as hell. It's the best thing I've ever read that I was able to knock out in three and a half bus rides. (Also, there's a passage in this book that is just a two-word sentence, "bob died," and it is my favorite instance of my name appearing in a work of art since Undertale.)

5) More Life, by Drake: I took an Intro to Film course at community college, because I like film AND I liked taking classes to help fill the art credit requirement! I took this class in 2008, so naturally, people were abuzz about some of the classics that had been released late in 2007, like There Will Be Blood. The professor DID NOT like There Will Be Blood. When pressed, he said something along the lines of: "There's no story! Daniel Plainview begins the movie as a monster, and he ends the movie as a monster. What changed? What did we spend two hours of our lives watching?" And while I don't agree with his assessment of the film, his perspective has stayed with me. Why do I bring that up? Who knows! Anyway this is the same album Drake has been making for nearly a decade and listening to it didn't enrich my life in any meaningful way because I already listened to other Drake albums. Also this was fucking 80 minutes long and even if I enjoyed Drake's whole thing, there is no excuse for a feature-film-length album, like calm down, just who the fuck do you think you are even? I spent less time reading literally show me a healthy person than I did listening to More Life. That's stupid and I hate it.

6) The Goldfinch, by Donna Tratt: This was recommended to me by a friend, so that's how I read this story about a young man who gets big into antiquing, and now I'm offering a review where, not only am I out of depth trying to proffer literary criticism, it's not even the sort of book that I'd come to on my own, so now I'm HELLA out of depth. This book is written in this elegant, austere way, and I loved the moments in the book where the author was just describing things, this book is at its best when no one is talking, but it was always somewhat jarring when a reference to modern technology was made. It felt odd and out-of-step with the rest of the novel, to have the odd reference to video games or iPods, like what's technology doing here, get out of here, I wanna read about the chairs this dude's been selling. But overall, I dug this book. It's about grief and the power of art and how decisions you make when you're 13 still influence the rest of your life, all things I’m into, and it was a welcome change of pace from what I usually read. (You mean nothing?) Again, listen:

7) The Discovery, dir. Charlie McDowell: ah just what i need a cloudy-day movie about suicide So like, I remember watching The Happening for a Bad Movie Night and thinking that the worst thing the movie did was squander an intriguing premise. There was a good movie somewhere inside The Happening, a movie about how to keep yourself believing life is still worth living, and it's not a perfect one-to-one translation of course, but The Discovery is pretty danged close to being the film I thought The Happening could be. Maybe it's a matter of scale: it takes this concept, "What would happen if science proved the existence of an afterlife?" and applies it to this small family drama, the son of the man who found the proof and their efforts to find out what the afterlife is. It has an offbeat sense of humor (I never realized how much I needed to see Jason Segel and Jesse Plemmons just hangin' out), and I appreciated the hell out of the final twist (even if I could have done without the Usual Suspectsy montage of moments from earlier which presaged the twist; "Look at all the foreshadowing we did! Aren't we such clever boys?" ugh i mean as someone who once paid enough attention to game of thrones to be able to identify every single white dude with a beard, i find that kind of shit annoying, i KNOW he said those things, i was WATCHING your FILM). I found much to enjoy about this film, even if "enjoy" is a weird word to apply to a film where a suicide counter figures prominently in the background.

8) Deep in the Heart of Texas, Dave Chappelle: I think a lot of what I said about his other Netflix thing applies here. The focus was a bit tighter, but ESPECIALLY here, it felt at times like he was telling jokes he wrote a few years ago that he just really wanted to get on television. He did a run on "Wait (The Whisper Song)." I didn't know people were still talking about that. He attributed "Wait (The Whisper Song)" to 50 Cent. One, you think people are gonna remember "Wait (The Whisper Song)," but won't remember The Yin Yang Twins? Two, you're gonna attribute it to 50 Cent? Come on, man. Say Lil' Jon. Lil' Jon is as current a reference as 50 Cent (moreso, actually, given "Turn Down for What"), that name is at least in the ballpark, and it's an easy applause line for you, like dude, shape up, I know it's not that simple but I'm pretty sure I've nailed it. But this was still more good than bad, and it still provided exquisite shots of white people in the front row who somehow didn't know who they had paid to see. Gosh, you could just smell the "well, actually" on some of those bros. That's the best part of these specials.

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