#also i full on refuse to live in a world where Jack isn't alive and Sam didn't stay

[i-am-robie]

short(?) fic idea: kara and lena through the other peoples perspective (ie noonans barista, lena’s driver, takeout cashier or any random ppl)

I read this and my first reaction was, I don’t know how to write a drabble. And then Jack’s voice interrupted me so, this may not be what you’re looking for anon, but here’s what just happened in my head lol...

“I’m just saying,” Jack finishes as they’re finally next in line at Noonan’s, “there’s something going on with them.”

“You’ve got some awfully firm ideas of what for someone with absolutely no evidence,” Sam says smiling and looking down at the pastries in the case.

“I’ve got eyes!” Jack looks affronted

“You know, I think he might be right.”

Sam turns to Kelly in surprise. “Look I know when I first got to National City, I thought they might be dating, too,” Sam says. “But they weren’t!”

“Plus,” Alex breaks in, “Kara would tell me. She’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

They shuffle forward as the line moves. Sam waves them all up to the counter, before greeting the barista. “Hey Tom, I’ll have my usual and whatever this crew is ordering.” She turns back to the group. “It’s on me today, even if Jack couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Oh, how can you not think they’re dating…” Jack starts but he’s interrupted by the barista.

“Jack, are you talking about Kara and Lena?” Jack nods at him. “They’re definitely dating.”

Jack claps his hands together and practically crows with glee. Alex looks like she might pass out. Kelly just smiles. Sam looks gobsmacked. 

Alex recovers first. “Tom! What do you mean they’re dating?”

“Oh come on,” says Tom, punching in their drinks, “you see them more than I do, but it’s pretty clear whenever they’re in here. All the soft touches and the blushing and the cheek kissing? That’s dating activity. And Lena never lets Kara pay.”

“Cheek kissing…?” Alex is looking a little green now. 

Tom finishes ringing them up and Kelly guides Alex over to wait for their drinks while Jack grabs a table as Sam pays. 

“You doing ok there, babe?” Kelly asks. “You look like you’re thinking a little too hard.”

“She’d tell me. I mean, right?” Alex looks at her girlfriend. “If she and Lena were, you know?”

Kelly laughs affectionately. “Maybe they’re still figuring out how to tell you, maybe it’s early, maybe they don’t even know themselves yet.” She looks a little more serious now. “But you’ve seen them together lately. Don’t you think it’s something a little more?”

They pick up the drinks from the counter when they’re ready and walk over to where Jack and Sam have commandeered four large chairs around a low table.

“Gross,” Alex says, squinting down at the writing on the side of second cup she’s holding. “Who ordered the venti pumpkin spice with extra whip?”

“Me!” Jack grins and makes grabby hands. “Sammy and I were continuing our earlier conversation,” he adds while Alex and Kelly take their seats. “She agrees with the premise that Lena and Kara would like to be dating each other, but doesn’t believe me that it’s already happening.”

Sam puts a hand up. “There’s too much pining for that to be the case.”

“They’ll get there when they’re ready,” Kelly says. “If they’re not there already.”

Alex, who’s been silent since handing Jack the drink suddenly looks up. “There’s only one solution,” she says. 

Jack leans forward. “I’m all ears love.”

“Tom said it looked to him like they’re dating, right?” The rest of them nod. “If they’re dating in secret, then they’re not going to act that way around us. But around people who they don’t think are watching...?” She looks around the circle.

“They’d be more comfortable,” Sam says thoughtfully. 

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Kelly interrupts, “and I need to go on record saying we should just let them be.”

“We need to talk to the people in their lives who aren’t us,” Alex finishes, ignoring Kelly’s advice.

“I’ll make a list,” says Jack. “We can divide and conquer.”

—————-

“Oh, Lena is in here all the time, she’s always sending that sweet girlfriend of hers the most beautiful bouquets,” says the florist, Ruth, when Sam drops by.

“Where does she have them sent?” Sam asks.

“Mostly to CatCo,” Ruth answers, wrapping brown paper around a mix of delphinium, lisianthus, free spirit roses, and starry asters. “Sometimes she’ll come in and pick up the flowers herself, though.”

——————

“Inconclusive,” Alex says, shaking her head when Sam reports back to the group. “Lena has sent Kara flowers at work since she moved from Metropolis.”

“On to the next,” says Jack. “I’ll handle this one.”

——————-

“So, Harvey,” Jack begins, leaning against the wall next to the front desk. “I bet you see everything that goes on in this building, don’t you?”

Harvey grins as he waves a resident through. “Doormen know everything, Jack.”

Jack nods. “So, say, if one of your residents has someone over regularly, you’d see them come and go, right? Get a feel for the relationship?” He’s trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“I’d like to think we can generally tell who guests are to our residents, sure,” Harvey says easily, winking at an older woman passing the desk. She blushes and waves. “Is there something specific you’re looking for, Jack? Or have I misjudged you and you’re just interested in what the job is like.”

Jack grins. “You see right through me, Harvey. I’ll just come out and ask it. Do you think Lena and Kara are dating?”

Harvey gives Jack a long, inscrutable look.

“I wouldn’t want to speculate on the particulars, Jack,” he finally says. “But I’ll tell you this: Ms. Luthor is never happier than when Ms. Danvers is with her.”

——————-

“Well, Harvey was less helpful than Ruth,” Jack complains that evening, pouring himself a drink at Sam's wet bar before joining her and Alex on the couch. 

“I have another idea about who to ask next,” Alex says. 

—————-

All in all, they talk to as many people as they can think of—from the  server at Kara's favorite pizza place (“They always fight about who gets to pay, young love is so sweet”), to Lena’s driver (“It’s not my place, but Sunday night is definitely date night”). Nia even volunteers to ask around CatCo once they bring her up to speed. Apparently, the newsroom is divided on the topic, though everyone agrees there’s something there. 

—————-

It comes to a head two weeks later when Sam hosts game night.

Kara corners Alex in the kitchen when Kelly asks for more snacks. Kara comes up next to her as she pours more chips into a bowl, leans against the counter.

“Alex, why did Jimmy at Mr. Huang’s House of Wontons ask me when Lena’s and my anniversary is?”

Alex rubs the back of her neck. When she’d recruited Jimmy to help, she really thought he’d be more subtle. She decides being direct is the best way to handle this.

“Ok so don’t be mad but I might have asked him if he thought you guys were dating in secret.”

Kara looks like heat vision is something Alex should be concerned about right now. 

“I know you like her, Kara, you’re about as subtle as a freight train.” Alex clips the top of the chip bag closed, and glances over at Kara.

Kara frowns at that, looking a little vulnerable instead of angry now. “So what if I do?”

“I think everyone in National City knows that Lena likes you,” Alex continues. Kara goes pink and splutters unintelligibly. Alex puts up a hand to stop her. “Jack thought you might be dating and I guess I got worried that you were but didn’t want to tell me because you thought I wouldn’t approve. So I asked around.”

“Well we’re not dating!” Kara says defensively, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “And it’s not cool to go around asking people about us, ok? She’s my best friend and we’re close and maybe I do like her but,” Kara swallows hard and it almost looks like she might cry and now alex knows for certain that they’re not dating but oh does Kara want to be, “we’re not dating. Can you drop it?”

“Kara,” Alex says gently, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to say it would be ok, if you were dating. We all just want you to be happy. I get that you’re not,” Alex says when Kara starts to interrupt her (and is Alex referring to Kara dating or Kara being happy? She isn’t sure herself), “but I’m trying to tell you it would be great if you were.”

“I just,” Kara looks down at the counter. “Alex I want to, so badly, but I can’t lose her again. We spent so long getting back to this place, you know? What if I ask her out and then I mess it up?”

A throat clears behind them, and Alex and Kara whip their heads around. 

“Sam sent me in for drinks,” Lena says, but she’s looking so intently at Kara that Alex decides this might be a good time to leave the kitchen. 

Alex just rounding the corner back to the living room when she hears Lena speak again, in a softer voice than Alex has ever heard.

“You wouldn’t mess it up, you know. You couldn’t.”

[greaterlandscapes]

My Dean Blunt Rotation aka High Fidelity Left A Bad Taste in My Mouth

For the past 2 to 3 months, my listening habits were teetering to an end; mostly via burnout by spontaneously listening to local artists daily and less likely of a musical discovery drought, whereas my interests of a certain artist or genre hasn't found its, sort of, "eureka", moment per se. I've been feeling less enthusiastic over the things i listen to since my friends have gradually lost their flare when it comes to discovering/exploring untapped parts of the music realm. Thus, in return, my enthusiasm not being reciprocated. It leaves an empty feeling from someone who has been yearning social interaction, may it be media being latched on the topic - it's a feeling that's been guilt-tripping me ever since I was stranded in the other end of the metro. I feel closed off, exposed to the crippling loneliness the lockdown has punished us: a defacto solitary confinement in a national level. Our act of staying online is also an act of staying alive outside.

To be fair though, it's a valid move to not boomerang compliments/gripes over an art you haven't consumed due to someone's autonomy. Your able body being to consume the art you wish to finish with free time is a luxury in of itself. The art is then failed to serve its purpose to reach its goal: You have squiggly lines heading straight to oblivion rather than swirling in the earlobes of a wandering cyber nomad. We, eventually, need to find something that could help us exit, rather than escape, from capital. We, in return, do not shut ourselves from the outside. Instead, we then tend to avoid the stress of protocols and outdoor fascism; Not avoid the indoor liberalism that is eating us alive and online. It's a capital punishment we never knew we signed up for ever since the onslaught of the virus and the state. Art for art's sake is nonexistent now, always has been, it seizes to ever since we went inside. Feeding off of a holographic meatloaf coming from a glowing screen. We have a real-life Karen acting as a nightlight in our rooms.

The COVID lockdown made us listen to music — both for better, for worse. For one, it made us pass most days. You could say the same for any sort of media: film, mixed media art, or whatever pre-Covid activity that sprung up during our time in isolation. For music, however, there was an uptick of new listeners that made others Wheel-of-Fortune the fuck out of their music discoveries in sites like RateYourMusic, Bandcamp, or even Sophie's Floorboard. We've continued to expand and became more open change of opinions and be less of a jackass towards someone else's opinions. On second thought, our opinions have been catalogued, leaving more notes than actual footprints of our previous listens. Our new discoveries made new bands and re-emerging bands, bands who faded to obscurity, crawl back in the surface with newfound interest from younger listeners (ie Panchiko, Jai Paul, and Dean Blunt) and this glowing, previously unseen and unexpected overwhelming support from fans of departed artists (ie SOPHIE, MF DOOM)

For the other, we've hogged gratuitous amounts of media, resulting into losing our primary direction as to how we want to consume our media based on the preconceived notions of what we want in our art. There is goodness in becoming directionless when you think about it, but there comes a cost to our identity as music listeners. Instead, we end up widening our tangents, falling in endless rabbit holes, having zero chances to emerge from the surface. In fact, i refuse to call it a "rabbit hole" instead i'd rather call it a "pipeline" of sorts — transitioning casual music fans into a full on, different, unique versions of themselves that would define them when laws and protocols have eased in the outside world. Our act of staying online has either made most of us break our character or enliven our past selves. The music pipeline is now more apparent, stretching the norms of what was once alienated by a silent majority, but now accepted as an acceptable form of expression. The more music we are exposed to has made casual listeners stranged out or react in ways that our personality have betrayed us or deemed not as acceptable to them. Still, not changing anything that was prominent pre-pandemic. Liberal cop behavior is stronger, now more dangerous than it ever was once perceived by the outside world.

HIGH FIDELITY? NO, THANK YOU.

Imagine a situation inside of a record, pre-pandemic of course, where you do not feel like lifting a record out from the shelf, instead, you window shop just for the sake of windowshopping. Capital and media made us think that going to record shops is a semi-productive activity. The age of discovery has died ever since High Fidelity romanticized and normalized the incelage of horny record diggers. Does this movie age well, yeah sure it does, for old 90s nerds at least. But did it translate well over in the past 20 or more years of events and tragedies that unfolded in pre-9/11 America? No it didn't. It was an age of free expression, only liberals would dream of whenever they take a sip of Guinness beer in their favorite dive bar.

Mind you, over a couple of months ago, it was my only chance in seeing why this movie was the talk of the town back when it was released. There's music, yeah, and attractive leading leadies, yeah, it has everything a 90s kid would love to salivate and drop their gonads over while they watch this movie. I obviously did not live to see the movie on opening day but i could imagine the scent that came out of that movie theater with attendees donning windbreakers and The Who shirts with popcorn dressing stains on their plastic cups. If there was a Filipino counterpart to this movie, i'd bet corporate champions Eraserheads and Rivermaya would soundtrack their music over and have either Tado or have Boy 2 Quizon, but i sense it to age like milk more than it could age like fine wine due to the senseless jokes one can execute in a Cubao or Cartimar record store.

John Cusack is obviously the incel in question here: a damaged, vengeful ex who constantly fails to live his partner's expectations and weaponizes his personality over the situations that has nothing to do with his interests. I spent the entire time being absolutely disgusted over the spineless responses of John Cusack's leading character. The movie then treads on flashbacks with John Cusack's failed relationships and what he could do to move on from each and one of them. If i could stand a SONA for 3 hours then I can't stand John Cusack being the dull entry point to incel, making more reasons why you should hate record store clerks who don't give an iota of shits to someone's inviting rapport. High Fidelity is opium for massive music circle jerks who can't take a single breathe of fresh air or a single quota of touching grass. There's more targeting weak and inferior guys and hot women who dump dumb overconfident dudebros more than the actual "music recs" in the entire movie. The more I think about this movie, the more I realize how our personality is in line towards Dick, the record store being unmercifully dunked on by the movie's two leading characters. He's an angel in the world of cynical bastards, witnessing both demons pitchforking record store customers in the ass while they're purchasing the latest Sonic Youth album.

I believe that Jack Black, the dark horse of High Fidelity, has a pleasing personality more than an irritating demeanor due to this behavior in the record store. In fact, outside of the record store, Jack Black doesn't seem to take the business is your pleasure act pretty seriously. Unlike John Cusack's character he brought his obsession over involving a record in an important memory/point of his life. There is so much stuff that has happened outside of the record store, so much for Rolling Stone and NME being the bible of music at the time, endlessly christening and shilling artists that believe to become the second coming of the Beatles. The music references here however are treated as fluff than it is a mechanism that would drive the senseless plot forward. If anything, there are events pointed out in the event that doesn't have anything to do with the life of the characters.

If anything, this movie did a great job at capturing the feeling of music bros being dumped on the wayside by a mature set of characters and how their current conditions aren't perfumed by the studios' liking of having to Cinderella story the shit out of a bunch of normal record store owners. The reality is in the reaction of one's social capital being invaded and we're here to witness how those reactions panned out in 2021. This is a villainous depiction of music nerds being the salt of the earth, the bane of all media discussion, still reflective of the insufferable salt of cyberspace found in music forums like 4chan and RYM. High Fidelity is a pipeline of 90s musicology, a dreaded fever dream of an owner waiting for the decade to end, trends ossifying and re-emerged by the hands of nostalgia-savvy individuals. It was, at its time, every music-movie nerd's excuse equivalent of Scott Pilgrim VS. The World. There are memories worth remembering and cherishing, and this movie isn't one of them.

DEAN BLUNT, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

In the past two weeks I've been fancying myself into sitting down and listening to different projects from the ever elusive, UK-based sound artist Dean Blunt. The first time i chanced upon his music wasn't too long ago - albeit a recent one in the time of COVID - was when I randomly stumbled upon his records at a Spotify recommendations section under John Maus (yeah lol i know the implications whenever his name is mentioned) - but then i was enamored by his online presence so quickly I put everything down and dedicated an hour or two researching about this man's music.

Other than the fact that his album "The Redeemer" wasn't the best record to start off in journeying through his discography: ending up disgusted and borderline bored even and I was more likely to lambast this record's aimless, pretentious art-pop inflections. By the end of the day, it was a preference long solidified by his undying fanbase. According to his hardcore fans, the music isn't really music, evaluating it as a free form of sound art, rather than sticking to a structured and conventional cues; the genre is nullified by most analysts of the arts. The growing interest of the general public towards Dean Blunt's pranks and antics have long appealed to my tastes as a chaotic neutral individual. Pranks that are well executed to piss off UK gallery connoisseurs and entertain ironic attendees who'd shit on the art piece rather than participate in it.

More of the resources I've found about Dean Blunt online: numerous aliases and collaborations that lasted around almost 2 decades. The most notable of all them, at least for my money, are either Hype Williams, a duo consisting of Dean and frequent collaborator Inga Copeland, and Babyfather, an art performance parodizing the pirate radio culture in the UK. I have not delved enough in Blunt's body of work to evaluate everything and what i could synthesize from it. For now, I enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. Well, color me impressed because Dean Blunt isn't clowning around, he, in fact, makes blissful and transcendental music from left to right.

Dean Blunt was the only few artists that made me want to binge on their discography. His movements in his music has attracted this pesky listener who thinks that being mysterious is a plus. I mean, look at me who thinks The Paul Institute, Panchiko, and Burial are the greatest artists that have walked the face of the earth.

The most I've enjoyed from Dean Blunt's discography are his mixtapes and collaborations: preferably his Soul Fire and ZUSHI, both of which were packaged as B-sides or supplemental releases rather than major releases such as the Babyfather project or the Black Metal releases. His knack for blurring the lines between genres still fascinate me as of this writing, and it continues to amaze me how he doesn't seize to compromise his art, he's here to prove a point and it sells quite well despite the lack of direction in his music. Blunt's music has more aggressive and hazy texture than the hollow, wide, soulless structure of art-pop/hypnagogic pop released today. He creates terrains from the rubble of his country's current shortcomings. The music overlaps the actual intentions with abstract concepts, becoming deconstructed down the line. In Babyfather, noise music coincides with Blunt's amateurish rapping. In Black Metal, Blunt isolates himself along with the assisted skeletal guitar playing. Both projects throwing all tropes in a vaccum alongside Blunt, who he himself would sought to become a personification of a musical void.

--

(Excerpt from the Babyfather album review in TinyMixtapes)

--

Dean Blunt is an entity that wishes to become one person, but no, this isn't a figure in a specific art form; this isn't Banksy, this isn't Bob Ong, this is made by one person, clearly it is if you listen closely, and it's been entrancing me ever since his presence was felt on the horizons of the internet. Dean Blunt, what the actual fuck.