#and I thought to myself ''maybe i AM the faggot america''

[mcl38]

Trigger warning for homophobia and hate. For your last ask….I also think there is a huge difference in where and when you grew up with how it comes to how you perceive these types of coded words. I grew up in the 80s and 90s in rural America when children in my elementary school played a playground game called “Smear the Queer” and said you would go to hell for being gay. I remember the death of Mathew Shepard at the hands of hateful people crying gay panic and being told if you were gay you would die from AIDS and that HIV was Gods punishment. I remember hearing the word queer and twink and faggot being said with hate and derision. I remember being told twink was short for “twinkee” because a twink was “young, dumb, and full of cum”. I remember a limp wrist gesture being a deadly insult to the boys in my school. It took me many many many years to even admit to myself I was gay. I still don’t talk about myself or my partner with the people I work with cause even now I just feel like you never know who is hateful. I can’t imagine someone openly yelling out a gay slur in the street anymore, but I can imagine not getting a promotion at work. I feel very disconnected from the current generation and their use of gay coded language which my whole childhood was used with such hurt. It’s like homophobia went from what I experienced in my youth of being open and in you face to being all these coded cutesy terms. It sure feels like all the same insinuations are all still there just coded differently. Or maybe I’m just old and out of touch and letting my experiences color how I see things now. It’s even hard for me today to accept the reclamation of the word queer by the lgbtq+ community so I know my experience color my perception of thing.

no i think ur absolutely right. its not that ur old and out of touch, i think its that the younger generation is naive and overly comfortable. i have not had an experience nearly as intense as you in my childhood but i think growing up in quite a heavily homophobic country like romania and then moving to the uk was still quite a big culture shock to me. i kind of had the idea as a teen that romania as a whole is a homophobic culture and the west just isn't to that level (mostly out of jealousy for the things i was seeing on the internet lmao) and that perception deffo changed since ive been living here. essentially what i realised was that (especially) men were almost as shitty to women and gay people in the uk as they were back home, just way more covertly, because they knew how to say all the right things. so the only consequence of this for me personally was just that in the uk i am more likely to be negatively surprised by someone who i thought was chill, whereas in romania i was more likely to b positively surprised by someone who seemed like theyd have a horrible reaction to me coming out. but as far as i can tell british people themselves dont clock this at all, and a lot of them will just assume that if theres no overt discrimination happening then theres no discrimination at all. which is kinda scary from my pov but again, like u, idk whether to feel like im just reacting to my own circumstances and projecting

so to bring this back to what u said anon, i too am just naturally suspicious of stuff that seems inocuous in current western pop culture, which is why i too am so weirdly bothered by this new 'mctwink' thing and the greater trend that the portmanteau is a part of. even in terms of the reclaiming of 'queer', which is such a hotly debated topic that its become associated with a lot of other lgbt in-fighting, having been on the internet and in academic spaces enough to witness the sanitisation of the word 'queer' has been quite jarring if im being honest. in an academic space to me it feels like a euphemism with the same vibe as 'differently abled' instead of disabled and 'fluffy / huggable' instead of fat, where the word is said by cishet ppl not out of a genuine care for the community its meant to represent but rather out of a fear of accidentally saying smth wrong by calling the thing what it is (in this case, gay). people are still so goddamn afraid of the word gay in super progressive english humanities academia and its actually quite funny like thats the ONE word no one minds u using but bc YOU have ur own biases to unpack u think its a bad word, ykwim? anyways. this is a lot of digressions

i think there is a point where we have to accept that language changes. im very anti prescriptivist in that i think we should embrace linguistic evolutions and neologisms and all that bc like at the end of the day we don't make the rules, the zeitgeist does. and i worry that holding on to certain meanings and connotations of words after the words kind of stop carrying them is dangerously close to ppl who insist on using slurs or derogatory language because 'when i was young it didnt used to be an insult'. like i used to treat the usage of 'queer' exclusively as derogatory because of its history but at some point i had to look within myself and accept that the ppl whose classes im taking and whose books im reading are NOT using the word as a slur so i should not assume that to be their intent. which ik is a hard pill to swallow - especially hard for someone like u, anon, who also has trauma surrounding those words. idk i think the lgbt & academic communities shouldve been a lot kinder in that specific transition but whats done is done now i guess

so yeah. now we reach the silly little fandom squabble that's really only a tiny fraction of this bigger cultural issue. but as discussed before i DO think people are using these new tiktok terms as well as the repopularisation of the word twink in a secretly kind of derogatory way, maybe even subconsciously. and i do think straight but maybe not entirely masculine people like lando and oscar are somehow the target of that homophobia, but they r not the victim of it. there just is a sort of fetishisation and derision that happens in the process of calling them twinks that has subtle but real repercussions in the wider cultural environment. and to real gay ppl. 🥴 fun stuff

and re: this i think again this is a complicated distinction to make. mostly because this website rly does host the lgbt community in the way that a tiktok algorithm thinking ur gay and shoving other random gay ppl in ur face just doesnt. but bc of the fact that this is a curated community AND bc of the relative decay of tumblr, we tend to think that our community is disconnected from the most, when time and time again 2 or 3 years later the discourse on this website ends up rehashed on more popular social media to varying degrees of bastardisation. so yes obviously part of the thin line ur talking abt is stuff like the idea of lando or oscar actually seeing the things ppl call them, but at the same time it's not like we get away scot free with doing whatever. in the way that in 2019 f1 shipping and rpf were an isolated niche thing and now the formula 1 twitter account is tweeting on main about 'lestappen' even using that specific portmanteau. see what i mean? which is y im complaining on here abt the twinklaren situation, even though on twitter it doesn't seem nearly as prevalent, because i know it's gonna catch up at some point

[jasonsbones]

The balancing act of reconciling that a lot of old media made actively homophobic jokes but also knowing that those same bits were what helped crack your egg is

It’s something alright Under the cut there’s some slurs but they’re also what I used to self-id, but anyways

Like maybe I AM the faggot, America? Maybe I DO look pretty walkin down the street in the best damn dress I own? Maybe mama SHOULD have raised a babygirl (I could have been a better son)

Not even just that, though, but when you get into a lot of queer coded characters being villains, or some especially making their queer-coded bits kiiiiinda sexual-assaulty, it can end up putting some weird ideation into your head

Ach, I’m 30 now and I think too much about it. Rocky Horror is something I see modern queers attack without understanding that until recently, that shit was all we had- it was the only thing that welcomed us home, stopped us from killing ourselves. It was never a perfect home but it was far more perfect than the one we had- there’s so much expectations nowadays for representation to be exact and isolated, but a lot of what made me feel most seen is still stuff that I saw portrayed by those different from me. Pure stories don’t represent my experience, strong women taught me how to be the man I wanna be, et cetera, and even as a gay man, happy lesbians is my favourite thing to see in modern media. I feel like if I’d been born a decade earlier, I might even consider myself a butch dyke (whereas I more consider myself a gnc/tranny faggot, slurs included). And fuck off if you wanna get in a tizzy over the terms, I’ve been called all of those things by people more personal than here and knowing I’m a fag is what gets me through the day sometimes.

I feel like we’re trapping ourselves into smaller and smaller boxes. Do I just feel this way because I’m a classic messy gay? Pff, even my sister called me out on that but whatever??? The box was never there but the labels sure were and then we put so many onto ourselves that we just made things into boxes anyways. I’m too big an experience to fit into a box, we all our, idk why we dissect ourselves this viciously.

I dunno, it’s almost 5am and my second sleep is rearing it’s head. Final thoughts: really love queer scientist villains because they’ll never seem villainous enough for me to hate them, and they’ll never be pure enough for perfection to love them, so I’ll take them.

[denotday]

Maybel Rhodes: Protectress

Itchy arms. My armbumps bumps take over life and chew my head off like a black mother. Even the sleeves of this sweater craddle these potholes as an english muffin craddles butter. But I'm more than my bumps and I'd make a quip on Fergie, but I'm no Joan Rivers. I'm small, meager. At eighteen, trying to find myself, live my own life. Typical teen drama, boring narrative, sob story. bored already. But know what isn't boring? I like strawberry shortcake and cheeseless pizzas. I have hopes of becoming a journalist and actually leading a career as moreof a Clark Kent than a Mary Jane or whatever the fuck that bitch's name is. Mary Anne? That used to be the name of one of my teachers. Going off; just thinking these thoughts while skateboarding to highschool.

Stay on the sides, away from cars, on the sidewalk, not too close to the white kids. White kids mean white mess, white messes mean cops who sweep the streets and take all the black kids with them in the process. I'm not a racist, just a black kid trying to stay alive in white america. Thank god I'm a weak bitch, one who cries for black men, one who doesn't face real issues like projected aggression. I'm a butterfly, something that men swat away and don't care about until MeToo movements. Gotta be careful but not too careful, kind but not too kind, firm but not a bitch, bitch but not a faggot. faggots suck.

No one thinks to ask these questions, here this thoughts. They see a black woman, better yet, a black female child. Worse thing to live in a ghetto. Sike; I say that I'm black and in a ghetto and get sob points. Fucking racist. I'm skating to one of those Fresh Prince schools. Didn't move on up, I'm simply moving; parents are mid class well grounded and guess what? My parents are still together. Probably breaking up soon but still breaking barriors of broke baby daddies and black slutty whore mothers who don't believe in abortion.

That's humor in of itself. A black kid skates into a white neighborhood with white sidewalks and doesn't have a nigger daddy and nigger mommy. What can be said by those PTA suburban soccer moms who want to demonise me and my own? Or am I palatable and a token black?

Making good grades, going to class on time. Only thing is, I don't have any friends to call. Even if I had one of those top quality iPhone 411s, I still wouldn't want to burden myself with filling up those high-techy contact lists. It's all bullshit after all, just capitalistic bilge. Something to fill the void without actually trying to let the public know that the void they're filling chalks up to capitalism. But again, those little tangents? "What does this have to do with having friends?" Everything. I don't give a shit, I accept shit. I tell things like it is, speak with lisps or change it up by sounding like an oxford professor.Not going to just abandon stream of consciousness 'cause class just started. This aint sims 4 and life ain't something that can be controlled; sped up or slowed down for the sake of an other's pleasure. I'm learning about shit that I'll never use like economics. That's shit that the government gives the state to teach, a little but not enough for highschoolers to overwhelm the system and decide "fuck student loans".

Not too bad here, though. Not all just "fuck hyschool" and teenaged angst. I go to the library, read books, go on my computer, listening to some Biggie and MFDoom and Tribe. Guess I am a nigger. Nigger-me and my nigger music. Even tththough it's they inspiration for they cracker music. Hate on us enough to keep us down but keep us up enough to steal from us. Today I'm reading some teen dystopian fantasy novel that I don't feel inclined to share with you guys. And no, it's not Hunger Games. It's Gunger Hames, the cousin of the franchise. Whoops just gave ya'll the name sorry. Either way I'm into that. Idea of a not-so-distant-future; humans making mistakes that fuck up the planet---disregarding that fact long enough so that the white main character can get it on with someone from the other side. Modern day Romeo and Juliett.

End of lunch, going back to class. It's back to back all day; boring teen shit that nobody cares about. Raising hands, answering questions, not understanding anything by the end of the day. Getting by is my motto. Long enough to get an A in the class and be on those ivy league watchlists. Even if I have to bust my ass to pay for student loans. Leaving highschool after all that non-work---no friends to lie to, no one to walk with, just me and my skateboard. These white paths not dirtied by brown except for my dirt body moving at the speed that a skateboard will go. Shift right here and there. Move away from rocks so that I don't fall headfirst. It's good shit. Here and there there are stone pebbles, blunts from---ironically enough--- the white kids and sharp object that I can't identify. FUCK. I don't have time to move around it and I can't just run offf. My leg'll get cut by it. Gotta just build up enough speed to roll over. Rolling...rolling...here it comes. Crouch down, focus, focus, pump speed anddddd....it stops my speed and loosens one of my bearings. Now I gotta walk the rest of the way back to my white little house with a white picket fence. Man screw--haha pun---this object. I have to use my 20/20 vision to find some small silver bolt that'll practically blend in with this bright ass sidewalk. Fuck white America.

In a little patch of weeds growing like black fists raising in the air I see the bolt and the responsible party for tossing me off the board. I raise my foot to crush this sonnofabiscuit like a bug so that some white kid's bike tire doesn't get licked---mind you this should be considered community service---and I figure that I won't ruin my rubber soles on the glass, so I'll just pick it up and toss it into the sewer. I put the bolt in my sweatpants pocket to keep it safe. I bend over again to peer at the crack in the sidewalk that I'll punt to the other side of the street where the other half of the street lives. It has tribal markings on it and must be, gasp, an ancient arcane ruin that'll give me superpowers. Kidding, you dumb bitch. "Why am I talking to myself this way? Jeez, some self-improvement classes would be nice". It's a bracelet made of some sort of beads. Kindof pretty but caked up with dirt and sand like no-one's business. I'm no Rocket Racoon so I just leave it. Even if I felt that it was interesting enough, I'd have to clean it off and disinfect it. It would just ruin the material underneath. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm. Lemme stop; for real, in this white bread neighborhood, I might be able to get it appraised and pawn it off for some money or at the very least, see if it's worth keeping. I know; "this is the start of every horror movie", every tv show. I get it, but I'll cleanse the jewelry before wearing it. It's fine. It's fine. Hope it's fine. Jeez.

I put the bracelet in my other pocket away from the bolt and walk back home. The soles of my feet hit the white pavement and my feet move in the fashion of jubillee ferris wheels. Slowly rise in a circle, fall in perfect arch. Walking is divine poetry in of itself. Not too long now. A little further. Feels like the day is stretching. Still light outside and the summer-brink of fall--air is warming my rectum. "Oh god, what's with gays and their rectums". You know your g-spot is in your ass, men. It feels good for us too you know. Nice coolness for the butthole----rectum is for men, butthole is for women. I think. See? Not a Cliff Huxtable type; don't know everything. Not an Urkle. Conversations with myself like this are truly golden (ponyboy).

Fondle the silver piece, twist it in lock, get somewhere new. Novel design, simple concept. My rubber soles give me cat-walking abilities and I edge up the stairs. Hear shuffling downstairs in the kitchen. But the smell of musky forest wood with a hint of olive tells me that it's just my father. I'd announce my presence but this isn't a sitcom and I have a phone that I can use to text. Who talks nowadays?

On the table near the keyrack, I scoop into my pockets in search of the goods. The warm cotton touches the cool silver bolt. Set it aside to attach it to the skateboard later. "Why not now?" That'll be a problem for me to solve tomorrow. "Procrastination isn't good" Yeah I know. I've read the same 1990's health pamphlet that the health teachers give out. I hug my side to reach around for the other pocket. Same warmth, same feeling of comfort except...it's a new sensation. Hollow and porous. It's either bone carved into beads or plastic. Hope to...Well, not God, maybe I hope to goodness? Goodness? What am I? A preacher? Maybe that's why I like 16 year old boys. Anyway. It's too white over here for it to be bone. Unless it's some cracker who brought over some hoodoo shit and dropped it somewere. Great. Gonna burn some incense to cleanse it. Then gonna toss it somewhere so that it can't hurt anyone. Wait. It doesn't FEEL menacing. No darkness, no coldness, there's a comfort to be had. I don't see any visible engravings, no bite marks no arcane symbols. It may be safe. Just to be sure, I'm keeping it downstairs for it to curse someone else in the house. I rise up the stairs into the wide landing. Step, rise, step, rise, step, rise. Before I get to the top, I feel funny. Not sick funny or CURSED funny, but someone-is-in-my-presence funny. Strech my neck to look over my shoulder. Not too far to show interest but far enough to see what's going on---it's my dad handling the bracelet.

I whip my body around and I suppose this gives him a start.

"Hey, just got back from school. I'm pretty tired which is why I didn't want to talk. Found that bracelet in the sidewalk cracks before my skateboard broke. I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Don't know if it's cursed or not."

"Cursed? Bee, this is a genuine Sudanese artifact."

"Huh? When'd you turn into a archeologist? Or are you just nerding out about a 'special interest'"

"Har har. Nothing like that. This area used to be an auction town for slaves shipped from Sudan. Martinsville, Pennsylvania wasn't necessarily known for it's 'clean hands' you know. Gentrification made the area look nicer but its history is still pretty shit-covered."

"Ah, I remember now. I heard about this in history class" No I haven't. I don't even have history. Just want to stop talking to him about some dumb bracelet. "Can it sell for big bucks at a pawnshop?"

"I mean, sure if you'd like to get rid of it. Better to give it to the local museum though! It looks to me like it's made out of elephant tusks. Pretty well preserved too! The wearer must've been some warrior. They only wear these types of jewelry if they're the village's protectors. That's what I've read online anyway. You know how the interweb is though. Could be false."

"Oh wow. Ivory? That's a pretty dirty trade. Don't want to give something like that up to white people who continue to promote the trade. This'll just make the ivory market worse. I may keep it; I just wonder if it's cursed or something. I'll ask a local witchcraft practitioner to check it out tomorrow. Can I have thirty bucks for an appraisal along with an after-school snack?"

"Thirty? What're you going to buy? A salmon dinner with asparagus and steak? I'm not giving you Carabbas money. I can do 18. Enough for some street food."

"Not enough for the appraisal!"

"I'm sure the person will be able to work something out for you. You look twelve. You can play the 'Uwu I'm a baby who has no money, please help me out adult!' card. Or, how about this: pretend to be doing a research project for school on Sudanese slaves in the area. Just act like the school lent you the bracelet for the project"

"So lie?"

"I call it embellishment."

"I see"

I reached into his calloused palm and stole its contents, As a thief, I ran upstairs away from the site of the crime, away from the demons that lurked beneath the stairs. That's customary practice when going up stairs, right? To haul ass like there's no tomorrow like we're that black chick from Scary Movie? Sounds about right. I heaved and ho'd swinging my body back and forth up the stairs. Snaking my way into my room where I burrow for my after-school nap. That's what I tell my parents anyway. What I really do is blaze up in my room and turn on the fan. Gotta keep the smoke minimal. "Such a typical teen". Yeah, whatever. Like your generation wasn't popping ass and drinking bathtub wine when ya'll were young, Get outta here.

It's a good high. Kind where you'd listen to lofi and eat peanuts just for the fun of it. Another bong hit. Satisfying. I'm just leaning back on my sofa; it's firm and uncomfy but when I'm blazed, don't none of it matter. I could lose all of my words...give up....let....go.....

"...."

"What is this energy I'm feeling? So warm and electric. Is this love? Am I so sexually frustrated that I'm in love with a bong? Shit, I fuck with that. That's pretty words. 'I'm in love with my bong'. Such nice love. haha."

I'm hungry and it's four am. The weed has worn off. So tired man. Gotta go downstairs for some chips or something. Hungry to the max. Munchies munchies munchies for the weed monster. What a drug.

I creep down the stairs and up once more. My bare footpads cling to the hardwood and leave sweat prints in the shape of my stompers. During my ascent I leave crumbs. Have the house feeling like a Brother's Grimm story. I satisfy my snack desires as I prepare for school in the next hour.

Running water on my arms. Three passes of lotion on arms and legs. Can't be the ashy black kid that look like they an African living in a dirt house. Ain't able to help the rough patches that coat my body but I can help keep my skin moisturized.

A'ight. Got my fit got my board. Just have to screw the bolt back on and find the bracelet. Shit. Left it upstairs. I'm already late as hell. Rushing up the stairs. Search for the bracelet, find it, get out house. Objectives objectives. I spot it from afar and gravitating toward it, put it gingerly in my pocket. Kindof like someone would with a used tissue. Aren't humans gross? I mean, snot? Bacteria-filled snot? Nasty. Thoughts gone, make brain go from thinking to doing. descending now. Board in arm, door opens with the flick of the wrist and just like that, I'm outty. Deck on ground I put my best foot forward and ram it onto the hard cement to push myself forward. Sorry foot, betrayals sure do suck.

School begins, in class siting in a chair. All day, several hours. Ah, the beloved system at work. Great to know that there are adults who "work" all day by keeping kids seated in a chair. Very progressive, America. Library break? I think so. On my laptop, I pull out webpages on the pocketed---the word reminds me of 'closeted---bracelet. NOW I'm imagining a gay bracelet. hilarious. Great. Typing 'Gay Bracelet' into the search bar and am getting rainbow plastic bands. Ya know, the ones that they sell at Hot Topic during pride month.

"Damn, I'm getting sidetracked" She mutters to herself. Imagine if life were a story being told by some omnipotent force? omnipresent? Think that's the word.

With a bit of typing and a bit of focus. Swift movement of hunched fingers. All is complete, then some. Ogdle: "common of the Azande warriors were pieces to signify their status such as septum tusks, mouth disks, necklaces and other adornments. Bones and tusks were common materials of such articles."

Crazy how this history is hidden. Power was taken from us and buried so deep. We're the originals but every piece of history buried underground. Hidden, secretive Big Bad America. Tale fit for young people all over. Democracy, boo yah.

Train whistle blowing through the air. No train nearby, just the sound of a change in the block. I put it all away, sweep it into my bag. Everything is so messy, so fast. On schooldays like this, it feels hard to even take time to breathe. But I get by since the system wants me to. Think I'm going to skip. Not that the next two classes even matter in the long run. "Such a poor black baby, representing her race so poorly". Yeah yeah. Not the black chick that highschools would put on a recruiting card.

Just another push....door after door falling at my fingertips. The same once that touch the coarse sandpaper of my board. Foot on, foot off. kick once, twice, thrice, now we surf the cement. Now it's time to visit good the kind old black woman who practices witchcraft on dolls. That's what you'd think right? No, they're native and keep old customs within the community. Everyone calls them---agender--- Sage. Nonbinary native americans are actually more common than people think.

Before selling the bracelet to some old rich white drudge of society, I wanna be sure that the bracelet can be cleansed first. I mean. To give away black history to the white man? Hellll no with multiple "l's". It is a pretty long ride there, even on a board. Rumbly road. Pebbles everywhere. Thousands of little rocks acting as smaller wheels vying to fling me off. It's too much.

Mumbling of my own. "Where's gentrification when you need it?" Alright, yes I get it. It's a bad joke. Of course gentrification is bad. Blah blah. Time to pick up my skateboard I guess. Walking on this ground feels just as bad as suicide. Feaful of getting my ass flung into the afterlife. Few yards left....or at least fifty feet. Forty eight, forty five, forty-however-long.

Ended up reaching it after twenty minutes. This trip better be worth it.

"Hi there, Miss Sage. Mind checking out this bracelet for me? I need to check it for a curse or evil energy. My cheap father didn't give me enough for a full appraisal but what can you do with nine dollars?"

"For nine? Not much, doll? What was your name again? You look young, do you have an adult's approval for this?"

"Oh, right. You've got me. It's for a school project. School each student a historical object to research. I figured you'd be able to help me get an 'A' on the project, you know?"

"Your manners are lacking but you seem young, so I'll let you pass. Allow me to take a look at it, if you please?"

God. Full-fledged adults really are something else. I'm only eighteen, not eight. Guess I look younger than I am----

Sage starts burning this wood that's tied with string. Incense maybe?

"That incense?"

"It's a closed practice really, so I don't want to expose anything. But it is a form of incense that I prefer to use to cleanse the spirit of objects and areas."

"Ah, didn't mean to intrude. I'm glad that there are still practices that you keep to yourself. Nothing like the White Man stripping us of our culture."

I got a soft chuckle out of them. Glad that they're able to lighten up a bit.

"..."

"OK, so here's what I've found. There's immense energy here; the power coming off of this thing is tremendous. There's nothing negative about this piece. How'd you ever come across it, again? School, you said? Shame that you'll have to give it back. Something like this would provide a large power surge to spirituals. I'd pay a pretty penny for this."

"Mhm"

"Wonder how the school even came across this. I tell you what. Ask your school where I can find something like this and perhaps I'll give you a little something for your intel, huh?"

"Oh. Sure. I'll just--uh---"

"Right, right, right. The bracelet, I'm sorry. Really, it's more an anklet truly, but--ya know what? I'm sorry. Here ya go"

"...take it from ya. Thanks."

"No problem. Come back with more info on the anklet. That'll be your payment for my time"

Got 'caught in a lie it seems. Don't know how I'll snake my way out of this one.

"Brrrrrzzzzz"

Shit, it's five. My dad's probably looking for me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter two:

" You skipped class? Bee, I know that you're better than this."

God moms bitch too much. Must be the nursing job coupled with her daily acting gigs that make her so aggro.

"I hear ya, mom. I just had some research to conduct after school..."

"Research? Which kind---?"

"The school kind. I don't know what else you want me to say. I'm sorry for skipping lasses. I got too overzealous and went in over my head. It won't happen again."

"Tskk. Better not. I know that I'm gone almost every hour of the day, but please give me a break, baby. Please just listen to your father and follow the rules. All I ask."

"Mhm, even though he-----you know what, nevermind. Am I dismissed? I have to write up today's school report to type"

Phew. Gonna hit the bong now to calm down from this encounter.

Fuck homework. .... ..... Mhm.

Five minutes passs. Fifteen, twenty. Maybe not minutes. hours? seconds? Time is too funny. With LEDs on, the vibe is fatallll. Still have to open a window to let out the smoke but gosh is this magical.

Mhm magic. Does it even exist? Doubt it. It's all science, right? ....

.....

Right. Like, this anklet. Not real power. Not real magic. Just something people believe in. Like God. It's all faith.

"So, theoretically, I could even put it on my person and nothing would even happen"

"And, so it begins"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT VOICE" and why am I screaming?

Get off, get off, get off! Something's dripping on me.

"Tears, they're tears"

Oh god, I fucked up. I knew that I shouldn't have smoked that much. Knew it'd bite me in the ass one day. Now I'm fear-crying. I NEVER FEAR CRY.

It's all a dream maybe. Go to sleep, Bee. Just take a weed nap.

"Ba ba bang"

A booming voice raspy from coffee withdrawal.

"Everything OK in there Bee? You're about to be late for school."

Shit!

No time for conversation. Move it move it move it.

"'Cmon Bee. I'll drop you off at school on my way to the college".

Bookbag? Check. Board? Check.

I feel the rush of air against my cheeks as I fly out the door and jump into the getaway car. Fast, but atleast I'm not Furious. Dad and I chat it up all the way until the tires cross the smooth pavement of school grounds. Departing words are exchanged along with "I love you's" and "knock 'em deads".

That familiar sound. Principal as the school conductor. "Chooo". Just as it drones, my body moves to the steps of teens dragging their feet toward their dreaded first classes of the day. The light of morning cradles the marble arches of the school entrance until the sun starts to suck in the morning cold to blow out midday warmth.

"So, who are you, voice? What's your angle? Typing ensues. The screen watches my fleeting pupils; left, right, side, side. Wouldn't be surprised if the computer got whiplash from me. One scroll, two, three. Read a page. Nothing. Another website. Up and down; my fingers are cramped now. Nada. New Oogdle search: "Can I hear voices with weed smoking." Now I have a hit; "yes weed can have you seeing voices. Many aren't even your own. Maybe lay off the TV for a while."

"Thanks 'BouncyNina29'. Quora is one hell of a place." Guess it must've just been the drugs then. Hilarious, me hearing some voice. "Gotta lay off the bong smoking".

"Shhh!!" Some nerd in a striped beanie raised a finger to pursed lips.

Sorry, sorry....Jeez. "My bad" You know what? Maybe I can visit----

the train whistle interrupts my 11pm "ball" with myself. "Dammit". OK. Maybe I can bribe one of the delinquents behind the school to take my place in English. Teacher's not there anyway; the sub won't know the difference. Time to go pay someone off.

"..."

"Here ya go, five dollars."

"A'ight and you said what room that English class in?"

"301 B man. It's at the end of the third floor, right wing. Hard to miss and---remember---my name is Maybel Rhodes. Just fake like you're doing some work and no one will even notice that you're not me. I'm a loner, so, that'll work."

"Mhm hmm. I hear ya Maple"

"MayBEL"

"Yeah, that's what I said"

Scoff. In a smooth curvular motion, I plant my feet on the board and race to Sage's before their store closes.

As I approach, they're putting a silver key in a lock. Gah! The store closed.

"Miss Sage---"

"Gah! Don't do that!! Scaring me and sh--I mean, 'crap'. Scaring me and crap. Look kid, I'm closed right now but we open tomorrow. By then, I'll have the energy to discuss your school's anklet with you. Actually, about that. Do you have intel on where the-----"

"Yes, yes. About that, see...I lied. I didn't really get it from the school. I found it on the ground somewhere."

"'Found it on the ground somewhere' is code for 'I don't have money to pay nor do I have anything else to provide'? Am I getting warmer?"

"Look Miss Sage, I'm really sorry. Hey---look at it this way. I'm in debt to you. If you'll just help me with one teensy little thing, I'll ask my dad for some food money and will give you every cent he gives, alright?"

"Kid, that's not how an adult runs a business. Call what I gave you yesterday a 'freebie'. You're banned from the store. Good night."

Wait. "Wait" Their stride is aimed toward their silver camry. Yeah, I know a camry. Did you expect them to be riding a horse? Racist. Sage acts as though they don't hear and gets into their seat, key in ignition. One twist away before exiting the rocky parking area.

"IT SPOKE TO ME" Yup. That is how I yelled it. All caps, woke some birds up even. Just like in those Loony Toon cartoons. Is that why they're called "Loony Toons" 'cause they're loony cart----

Now they exit their car, slamming the heavy metal door. "What did you say? It...SPOKE...to you? What do you mean 'it'?"

Mhm Mhm. Just prepping my throat. "I wore it on my ankle and I heard a voice that has never existed before in the chasms----"

"Stop the theatrics"

"....Chasms of my mind. It was a male. Around your age in old-timey-ness."

"Har har."

"But it's the truth!" Why won't they believe a magical voice but insist that sage, a random plant, purifies the air?

Their chest contracts and expands in a sigh. Sage closes their eyes for a second. I could practically smell the gears turning. Need some WD-40, really. "Fine. Come by the store Saturday. That way, no one will be in to eavesdrop."

"Deal!"

"And bring actual MULA this time or else we won't have our little discussion". Crud.

"...."

"What are you thinking Sage?" No response. I paid one hundred fifty dollars for this after BEGGING both my folks (who think I'm using it to enroll in some after school sport) to slide me some cash so that I can 'better myself as an individual and actually do something with my time as well'. Lies are no good.

"Shh! Let me think, please!" Sage subverts their attention from me back onto the tarot cards laid in front of them----exactly where the bone anklet (bonklet) lay in silence

Ten minutes pass before Sage gives me the break down. "So, as I've said before. The anklet carries some heavy energy, something similar to passion and justice. Very potent stuff. That's what the spirit realm is saying, anyway. When you were---ahem--- HIGH----"

At this point I look away

"...You honed into that energy and that's why you heard the voice"

"Hm. So, how do I hone in on that energy now? Is it something I can control conscious?"

"Look, I dunno kid. Just, be safe. Meditate beforehand so that you are actually able to chime into the anklet's power source. Don't want to darken the talisman's power or anything."

"Sure, sure" I am literally out the door before Sage utters the second part of their sentence. I buzz with excitement at the opportunity and the best part is? I'm basically a super! Hoo ho. This is awesome.

There's an empty industrial facility near by Hawesome Li Cosmetics. It went bankrupt several decads ago. I'm pretty much the only one who knows about the place. Excellent ground to skate on---smooth as butter. Either way, it's empty and no harm will come to anything or anyone nearby. Any damage that I do will be to the building nearby, which no one cares about anyway. "So, it's just me and you buddy." Blunt in hand, I blaze it up. "Time for the magic to happen."

It's a slow high. The high takes as long as a flame reaching the wooden stick of an incense rod for the high to hit. Upwards of thirty minutes. So I wait. It feels like time warps. So I meditate. So I clear my thinking and reach out to the anklet.

"Mhm, Anklet, tell me who you are?"

"What?? You can hear me?"

"Yeah man. Who are you, why you speaking to me?"

"Why would I tell you? I don't even know yer name"

Tiring. It's like talking to a wall.

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Maybel. My name's Maybel. What's yours? Let's start there."

"Nat."

"Like Nat Turner? The rebel slave?"

"Don't know who that is, this 'Nat Turner'. Just knew my master gave me the name." How progressive. "So...I suspect that I'm dead."

It's not easy news. I get it. But hey, the north won. That's something, right?

"Well, I guess it is....you know, I had a name before all of this...."

"......"

"......??"

"......."

So, are you going to tell me?

"You may call me 'Asim'."

"I'll call you Ase."

Don't call me 'Ase'. Too late, Ase. Hey, how old are you anyway? 12? 11? My name is ASIM, nothing else. Fine, grumpy. ASIM. I'll call you Asim, Asim. Where'd that name come from anyway? What does it mean?

"Let's find out, shall we?"

"...It feels electric! (Boogy woogy woogy). Such power, this wade in...glory."

Are you a God?

"Blasphemy!" Then what are you? How are you able to lay such energy unto me?

Look, I don't know either, alright? But what I do know is...we're both negr---

Black. We don't say that word anymore.

"Black, then... Perhaps I'm connected with you due to our shared skin?" We stopped being related millenia ago. Millenia? Not familar with that word.

"Long, long ago. We don't share any common ancestors. It was all a lie." A lie? You don't believe in a God? I'm moreso spiritual; creation is a possibility not something I'm invested in. I believe in forces of the universe. "But not a God? So, this can't be some spiritual connection. We're too different." So perhaps a soul connection? A link between our spirits.... What else do we have in common? A slave and a black kid?

"Hatred of the white man? Wanting justice against them?"

"War. Destruction"

"Yes."

"No, I don't want that. I'd prefer peace." There may be no PEACE without WAR.

"A lie. Violence is not the answer. Kindness is."

"'Kindness' doesn't resolve problems. 'Kindness' doesn't end racism. 'KINDNESS' was the one that slept at my feet while I was lashed! "

"..."

Asim?

"..."

Andddd you're gone. Great. Well, I'm going to head back home, then. We can hang out again tomorrow. "Head back" means leave. All right, see you.

[illicreatxm]

5SOS Singles - Lyric Sentence Starters (pt. 2)

Wrapped Around Your Finger

“You met me in your backyard that night”

“In the moonlight you looked just like an angel in disguise”

“My whole life seemed like a postcard”

“You were mine for a night”

“I was out of my mind”

“I don’t know how to say goodbye”

“Making all our plans in the Santa Cruz sand that night”

“I thought I had you in the palm of my hand that night”

“Screaming at the top of my lungs ‘til my chest felt tight”

“I told myself that I’m never gonna be alright”

“You had me wrapped around your finger”

“I’m wrapped around your finger”

Daylight

“I can’t look at you in the same light”

“Knowing what you did my heart doesn’t feel right”

“My head’s been tripping all night”

“I need another point of view”

“I got a friend who’s committed to sci-fi”

“He’s read every comic”

“He’s addicted to Twilight”

“He’ll give you the goosebumps, but he’s never led me wrong”

“She’s got a method of killing”

“Pulling you in like you’re gonna start kissing”

“Fooling around until you’ve lost all feeling”

“Sucking your blood until your heart stops beating”

“Before we started, it was over”

“I feel our bodies getting colder”

“She gives me a feeling that I can’t fight”

“It’s the road that leads to nowhere”

“All I want to do is go there”

“She’s got me running from the daylight”

“I got a taste for it”

“I’m obsessed”

“I’m not happy unless I’m close enough to you”

“All these dreams I’m dreaming, freaking me out”

“I wish I knew the meaning”

“Doesn’t make sense because I’m just not seeing how I’m alive it”

“Feels like I’m not breathing”

“I’m not ready to start again”

“You’re not willing to make amends”

“Now the daylight’s dangerous”

“It will turn us both to dust”

American Idiot (originally by Green Day)

“Don’t wanna be an American idiot”

“Don’t want a nation under the new mania”

“And can you hear the sound of hysteria?”

“The subliminal mind fuck America”

“Welcome to a new kind of tension”

“Everything isn’t meant to be okay”

“Television dreams of tomorrow”

“We’re not the ones who’re meant to follow”

“That’s enough to argue”

“Well, maybe I’m the faggot America”

“I’m not a part of a redneck agenda”

“Everybody do the propaganda”

“Sing along to the age of paranoia”

“You lookin’ at me?”

“One nation controlled by the media”

“Information age of hysteria”

“It’s calling out to idiot America”

“I’m not fucking okay!”

“C'mon!”

Broken Pieces

“I woke up in the place we started”

“Your clothes on the floor in that old apartment”

“I never thought you’d leave without a trace”

“I can’t shake this sinking feeling”

“I know you’re not there and I’m barely breathing”

“Holding onto things I can’t replace”

“I’m looking for a way to change my mind”

“Don’t walk away”

“Tell me what we’re fighting for”

“It’s turning to an all out war”

“I’ll find a way to fix these broken pieces and let go”

“I’m tryna find a way back home”

“If it takes until I’m skin and bones, I’ll find a way to fix these broken pieces”

“I wish we’d take back all the things we said”

“I’m tryna find a way to yesterday”

“Turning in circles and chasing our tails, and wondering why we created this wasteland”

“I wish you wouldn’t be so cavalier”

“We’re fading out”

“We’re all alone”

“It’s what you wanted, I suppose”

“I can tell you feel the same”

“When you say you’re looking for a way to change your mind, don’t walk away”

Over And Out

“Take a seat and just listen up”

“This rhyme and reason done too much”

“I’m a dime a dozen thrown to sea”

“You’ll have to wait and see”

“You can have all of your outbreaks if you let me make my own mistakes”

“I lie awake in my own head”

“Because of you, I’m gone for good”

“That’s the truth”

“I’ll be brand new”

“You can break me down, just like you did before”

“That’s me over and out”

“I hear the sirens at the door”

“They’re always coming back for more”

“I’m left with pockets of regret”

“Swear I won’t forget”

“The tragedy of success is believing in second chances”

“So take me as I am”

“Take me for everything”

“Replacing who I am with who I’d rather be”

Lost In Reality

“You throw me around like your rag doll and throw me away like your cigarettes”

“Pick up the pieces of whatever’s left of me”

“They’re yours to keep”

“A million and one ways that I’ve tried to turn it around, leave it all behind”

“Every time you turn out to be one step ahead of me”

“Lost in reality”

“I can feel you in the dark when I fall asleep”

“All that’s in my head are pictures of memories, words that you said to me”

“Won’t you save me?”

“Bittersweet chemistry”

“I can’t escape you anywhere, even in my dreams”

“Under all the lights in the night sky you drift away, then you disappear”

“Counting the days 'til I bring you back to me, eventually”

“My strung-out heart needs your angel eyes”

“They tear me apart and I’m hypnotized”

“Let’s pick up the pieces of whatever’s left of me”

[tunehummed]

THE JONATHAN LARSON PROJECT. — 458 sentences from the 2019 album the jonathan larson project, conceived by jennifer ashley tepper! change pronouns as needed. trigger warning for mentions/discussion of abuse, sexism, homophobia, and oil spills.

GREENE STREET.

‛ i found the sun on a midwinter day. ’

‛ on a backstreet down in soho, there was snow on the ground. ’

‛ instinct told me to get out and search for a day. ’

‛ there goes a chic, chic baby on her way to a coup d’état. ’

‛ there goes a fella like me lookin’ for his day. ’

‛ there goes a boy in his mama’s arms. ’

‛ you can say what you can say. ’

‛ there goes a lover sittin’ and writin’ this song. ’

‛ i’m sittin’ on greene street! ’

‛ and i don’t mean money, honey. ’

‛ watchin’ the world waltz by. ’

‛ laughing the day away. ’

‛ there goes a man with a camera whose sunglasses shade his eyes. ’

‛ there goes a man who seems that he knows a star. ’

‛ there goes a tourist who’s scared to answer me. ’

‛ there goes a dancer too scared to answer me, an artist who winked as she passed by. ’

‛ an artist who winked as she passed by! ’

‛ all these people out in the street, too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ too bad that no one wants to meet. ’

‛ everybody i see walks right by. ’

‛ would someone please look me in the eye? ’

ONE OF THESE DAYS.

‛ another failure, another flop. ’

‛ i should try another hobby, this has gotta stop. ’

‛ i feel like a tightrope walker without the wire. ’

‛ one more disaster, one more dud. ’

‛ it could be worse! at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood. ’

‛ at least this time no flood, though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ though it’s the fourteenth time that i’ve almost caught on fire. ’

‛ maybe it’s luck! what is luck, how could this be luck? ’

‛ no one’s luck could be this bad! ’

‛ maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s time… ’

‛ one of these days i’ll find a way. ’

‛ i’ll make it to the top, leave ‘em all back in the dust. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘that boy will never stop!’ ’

‛ that day’s gonna be one of these days. ’

‛ don’t understand it, it isn’t fair. ’

‛ every time i try to prove myself results just aren’t there. ’

‛ i feel like a mountain climber without the peak. ’

‛ my sister laughs at me, says i’m odd. ’

‛ my mom and pop think i’m a punishment from god. ’

‛ i get looks from my neighbors that seem to say, ‘there goes that FREAK!’ ’

‛ sometimes i wish - no, i don’t - yes, i do, i wish! ��

‛ i wish that somehow i’d been born dumb. ’

‛ then i feel that something may change. ’

‛ i’ll rise above the throng. ’

‛ they’ll be amazed at who they see. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘i knew it all along.’ ’

‛ one of these days that’s what will be. ’

‛ god, can it happen today? ’

‛ maybe there’s been a mistake. ’

‛ let’s trade a failure for one minor miracle. ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one! ’

‛ i’m gonna be number one, at least in some one person’s eyes. ’

‛ one of these days someone will say, ‘you are my only one.’ ’

‛ i’m gonna fly, i’m gonna touch the sky. ’

‛ i’m gonna win, i’m gonna sin, i’m gonna never die. ’

‛ gonna glow, gonna flow, gonna click, gonna stick. ’

‛ gonna gain, reach, conquer, gonna make ‘em sick. ’

‛ gonna triumph, prevail, sail, razzle dazzle, glitter gleam. ’

‛ gonna see my face in every house on every screen. ’

‛ i’ll be the hero, i’ll change the world. ’

‛ and maybe in the end i’ll even get the girl! ’

‛ gotta believe it. ’

‛ i can see through the haze. ’

‛ a miracle’s in for a landing, gonna get here, gonna happen one of these days. ’

BREAK OUT THE BOOZE.

‛ the wolf’s at the door and i hear talk of war. ’

‛ somebody break out the booze. ’

‛ let’s grab some hooch. ’

‛ let’s get goopy and smooch. ’

‛ forget all this sob sister news. ’

‛ the world’s gettin’ lousy, so let’s go get drowsy. ’

‛ yes, right here and now-sy. ’

‛ let’s bow-wow these blues. ’

‛ the stars look poetic. the moon’s copacetic. ’

‛ crank up your jalopy and then we’ll get sloppy. ’

‛ we’ll call up our bookie and say to him: ‘cookie, lookie, we’ve nothing to lose.’ ’

‛ the times ain’t so jake, every bum’s on the take. ’

‛ got no cake, got no steak, just this ache in my shoes. ’

‛ the moon’s looking cheesy. your eyes say, ‘i’m easy.’ ’

‛ oh – it’s swell to be alive. ’

‛ oh – it’s the real mccoy! ’

‛ oh – give a yell, we’ll survive. ’

‛ waiter! who needs a mug? give me a bottle or a jug. ’

‛ the government’s awful, so let’s be unlawful. ’

‛ throw out the compass and let’s make a rumpus. ’

‛ this town’s getting screwy, so let’s go kablooey. ’

‛ it’s true if we get boo-hoo-y, we lose. ’

‛ let’s make it strange – hell! let’s get naked, angel. ’

OUT OF MY DREAMS.

‛ out of my dreams. ’

‛ out all night, kisses on the street. ’

‛ sidewalk, dance, september heat. ’

‛ stay in bed, love all day. ’

‛ fire, passion, every single way. ’

‛ go to work, mind on you. anticipating what we’re gonna do. ’

‛ nasty words on the telephone. ’

‛ alarm goes off, i’m in bed alone. ’

‛ you left my life. stay out of my dreams. ’

‛ thursday, friday, 3 am. ’

‛ buses, subways. us versus them. ’

‛ winter chill, skies look dark. ’

‛ monkey business in central park. ’

‛ coffee, cocoa, more whipped cream. ’

‛ vodka, brandy. was it just a dream? ’

‛ window shopping, christmas day. ’

‛ i wake up, all that was yesterday! ’

‛ try to stay busy. hard to stay afloat. ’

‛ will i be sunk by this lump in my throat? ’

‛ can’t think, can’t act, can’t find new roads. ’

‛ think i see you everywhere, my heart explodes. ’

‛ will i ever laugh? will i ever be the same? ’

‛ i’m tossing, i’m turning, i’m calling your name. ’

‛ maybe you’ll come back. that thought makes me weep. ’

‛ the only thing i do is i go back to sleep. ’

‛ stay out of my dreams. get out! ’

VALENTINE’S DAY.

‛ he was a greeting card candy cupid. ’

‛ there was a blizzard, it was twenty below. ’

‛ she was 15, clean, lonely and stupid, and as pure as the virgin snow. ’

‛ he pulled her in from the storm and the fire was warm. she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ she didn’t have the nerve to say no. ’

‛ beat her till she’s black and blue and gray. ’

‛ draw a little heart. draw a little arrow. draw a little blood. ’

‛ v-v-v-valentine’s day. ’

‛ red wine, waterford crystal. chocolate kisses and lace. ’

‛ knives and chains and a pistol mounted on a wall, like scars on a face. ’

‛ he said he liked to play rough as he locked the handcuff. she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ she knew it’d be tough to escape. ’

‛ february winter in her heart. ’

‛ i said i’d show her normal love. she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ she said, ‘too late to start.’ ’

‛ now her fashion is basically leather. favorite color is basically red. ’

‛ and her passions change like the weather, as she dances from bed to bed to bed. ’

‛ and she feels like a fool, but she likes her men cruel. ’

‛ i doubt she’ll be cool till she’s dead. ’

WHITE MALE WORLD.

‛ bryant gumbel, decaf coffee, french vanilla ultra slim. ’

‛ pert shampoo with extra body, clinique, neutrogena. ’

‛ hey, madonna. ho, madonna, hey. ’

‛ stay-free, yeast-x, estee lauder. ’

‛ estee lauder, revlon, calvin klein’s obsession. ’

‛ advil, ultra-brite, no nonsense. ’

‛ diamonds are forever. ’

‛ it’s just another day. just another day. ’

‛ just another day in the white male world.  ’

‛ salad bar, no! candy bar. ’

‛ yes. candy bar, no! salad bar. ’

‛ diet coke, no! diet rite. ’

‛ cellulite or cancer? ’

‛ yes sir, no sir. ’

‛ holly hunter, melanie griffith, meryl streep. ’

‛ spandex, reeboks. ’

‛ taylor dayne, stairmaster, oprah winfrey. ’

‛ let’s cut down a jungle. ’

‛ let’s go start a war. ’

‛ let’s go rape a co-ed. ’

‛ what a lovely thing to do! ’

‛ let’s drink beer and bust some heads. ’

‛ let’s all vote for jesse helms. ’

‛ let’s string up a faggot and a black guy and a jew. ’

‛ evian water, black lace push-up, billiard table, dirty words. ’

‛ skinny blue jeans, skimpy t-shirt. ’

‛ husband hunting, binge & purge. ’

‛ open your mouth and open your legs and open your purse. now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ now – where’s the trojan? ’

‛ wait! don’t stop! too late, he’s finished. ’

‛ what if men got pregnant? ’

LA DI DA RAP.

‛ we all should be drinkin’ to abraham lincoln and get stinkin’ drunk in his name. ’

‛ it’s a good thing he’s dead cause he’d cry his eyes red, hang his head if he saw this campaign. ’

‛ singing hey la di la di, hey la di da day. ’

‛ lincoln! here’s mud in your eye. ’

‛ are we past our prime? or is this the time to climb from the slime, make america great. ’

‛ are we so hollow that we blindly follow and swallow whatever they put on our plate? ’

‛ just sing no! ’

‛ to handlers, sound bytes, madison avenue, cynical hollywood, la di da pictures. ’

‛ tabloids, images, wrapped up facts in relation, slim control. ’

‛ la di da you drama la di da de da de la di da. ’

‛ pour some ales for old roger ailes and danny quayle’s his protégé. ’

‛ in ‘96 his looks, his tricks make tricky dick’s crime passe. ’

‛ i’ve had it up to here. ’

‛ here’s mud in your eye! ’

IRON MIKE.

‛ on a starry black night at the base of mount hogan, beyond horsetail creek and anderson bay. ’

‛ from the port of valdez sailed a ship, bound for long beach. ’

‛ over one million barrels of crude stowed away. ’

‛ to the left of the wheel in the bridge of the upper deck under the compass, was he. ’

‛ navigation computer, the captain and fisherman’s friend who could steer perfectly. ’

‛ they called him iron mike. ’

‛ in the dead of the night he steered the way through the darkness. ’

‛ iron mike didn’t see the red light on the reef. ’

‛ he’d been known to throw back one or two. ’

‛ yet no one thought twice when he set autopilot and retired below with the crew. ’

‛ from the two am stillness came the cry of the third mate. ’

‛ someone better go wake up the chief! ’

‛ yet by then it was too late. ’

‛ the starboard tanks had 12 foot gashes cut out by bligh reef. ’

‛ the forget-me-nots cried and the salmon all died and the fisherman wore black armbands. ’

‛ and the spokesmen from exxon said, ‘no major damage,’ though six million gallons remain in the sands. ’

‛ and from rocky point down to mount freemantle, you can still see the black film on the soil. ’

‛ and the echoes rebound throughout prince william sound of half frozen animals, choking in oil. ’

‛ who’s at the helm of this ship of state? ’

‛ we’ve in for some rough navigation. ’

‛ we have the power – the hour is late. ’

‛ gotta get tough and clean up the nation. ’

‛ black rainbows of exxon lightgrade again flowed, like hot fudge in a big apple spill. ’

‛ the detection machine had malfunctioned quite often, repair procedure so hard to enforce. ’

‛ and down on prall’s island, the cleanup begins. ’

‛ and the horror continues till we chart our own course. ’

‛ it’s the dead of the night. ’

‛ we can steer a new way through the darkness. ’

‛ we must see the light for relief. ’

FIND THE KEY.

‛ she’s walking, he’s sitting. ’

‛ he plays a dark c-minor chord. ’

‛ it’s like the keyboard is his heart. ’

‛ he hears the clock, he hugs the cat. ’

‛ he hugs the cat… no. he kicks the cat. ’

‛ he pumps the volume higher. ’

‛ a fire’s just about to start. ’

‛ why can’t, why can’t i? ’

‛ why can’t i, why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ why can’t i find the key? ’

‛ door closes – he freezes. ’

‛ he sees it’s hard to end duets. ’

‛ he lets his fingers feel the way. ’

‛ he loves her, he’s lost her. ’

‛ he’s hearing melancholy strings that sing the things that he can’t say. ’

‛ he can’t imagine what he should have said. ’

‛ it’s all been said and sounds cliché. ’

‛ he’s at the bridge between his head which says, ‘it’s dead,’ and his heart which says, ‘don’t let her get away.’ ’

‛ she’s gone now. he’s singing. ’

‛ he’s singing. he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he hears no two part harmony. ’

‛ he looks around – this can’t be real. ’

‛ this can’t be real. ’

‛ depression, a dark progression. ’

‛ why can he only sing it? ’

‛ what will it take to make him feel? ’

‛ and then somehow it ends. ’

HOSING THE FURNITURE.

‛ hello my lucite coffee table. someone spill a little milk on you? ’

‛ tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. ’

‛ one – more – twist! that’s better now. ’

‛ silly little me, me, me, me, me, me, me! ’

‛ i’m singing in the living room. ’

‛ what’s the time? fifteen minutes. ’

‛ pour the bleach, put the finishing touches on the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. still outside. ’

‛ my nails! my god! a chip! ’

‛ tom likes wonder bread with turkey. ’

‛ tom was preoccupied last night. ’

‛ is it me? is it – ’

‛ do i have enough milk? ’

‛ oh stain stain, down the drain. ’

‛ i can see myself in the coffee table, pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ pretty as i was on my wedding day. ’

‛ i’m as pretty as the coffee table. we’re so pretty! ’

‛ we’re so pretty! ’

‛ ah! what? you scared me. ’

‛ who were you talking to? ’

‛ who? no one. ’

‛ what’s all this? ’

‛ why are you acting so weird? ’

‛ you know i’m hosing the furniture. ’

‛ and when i hose, i sing to myself. ’

‛ who do you think cleans up? some elf? ’

‛ no sweeping – no mops. in no time it’s wheeeeee! ’

‛ when i’m hosing the furniture i’m free. ’

‛ i’m free – i’m free! ’

‛ now run along and play – i’m concentrating. ’

‛ you know your father likes to come home to that ‘just decorated look’... ’

‛ raindrops are falling on my couch! ’

‛ what’s the time? thirty minutes! ’

‛ martinis, cut the flowers for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. hasn’t been fed. ’

‛ my hair! my god! a gray hair! ’

‛ tom likes onion cocktails. ’

‛ tom nodded off again last night. ’

‛ i get treated like dirt! ’

‛ i can see myself in the drapery. ’

‛ am i pretty as i was on my wedding day? ’

‛ am i pretty as the drapery? are we pretty? ’

‛ are we pretty? ’

‛ don’t you care? ’

‛ do i look mad? my happiness grows! ’

‛ who needs dad when i’ve got the hose! ’

‛ this house is a reflection of me – modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ modern, graceful, easy, simple – synthetic. ’

‛ in everything i see my reflection. ’

‛ do i really look so simply pathetic? ’

‛ what? pull the trigger! ’

‛ soon it’s gonna rain on the bookshelf. ’

‛ what’s the time? 120 minutes. ’

‛ dry turkey, look relaxed for the dinner. ’

‛ the dog – the dog – the dog. the dog died last year! ’

‛ my blouse! my god! a crumb! ’

‛ i can see myself in the television. ’

‛ i was pretty on my wedding day. ’

‛ i was pretty as a television. we were pretty. ’

‛ we were pretty. ’

‛ a minor flood never hurt anyone! ’

‛ sometimes i wish this hose were a gun. ’

‛ just joking – see, i’m laughing. ’

PURA VIDA

‛ we are the people. ’

‛ we are the people who float on the river. ’

‛ we run up to the hill, we run down to the water. ’

‛ birds laugh and the sun, she smiles. ’

‛ and the trees, they dance in the wind. ’

‛ we race against time. ’

‛ we race for pure life. ’

‛ we need the people. ’

‛ we need the people who live on the river. ’

‛ find a pace, find a speed. ’

‛ nowhere to stop in big water. ’

‛ fish fly and the rocks play games and the trees sing out in the wind. ’

‛ sing in harmony. ’

‛ can we endure this race? ’

‛ can this race endure? ’

‛ we need the people who live in the forest. ’

‛ ‘ust there be finish lines? ’

‛ can’t the world drum like the water? ’

‛ the rivers will dry, and the birds will die. ’

‛ and the ghosts of the trees will cry out in the wind. ’

THE TRUTH IS A LIE.

‛ the berlin wall wasn’t destroyed, it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick. ’

‛ it was dismantled brick by brick and reconstructed on capitol hill, on the congressional floor. ’

‛ the money spent on one stealth bomber couldn’t wipe out homelessness. ’

‛ george bush never said, ‘read my lips.’ ’

‛ the peace dividend didn’t pay for the war. ’

‛ don’t look out the window. don’t go to the mirror. don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ don’t you know what you will see? ’

‛ martin luther king and the kennedys were fictional players in a mini-series, just like charles manson and princess grace. ’

‛ bensonhurst was a publicity stunt. ’

‛ aids is a myth, first amendment’s fake. ’

‛ the sun revolves around the earth and the holocaust never took place. ’

‛ the truth is a lie! ’

‛ love does not exist between consenting members of the same sex. ’

‛ two plus two is five. ’

‛ the human body is revolting. ’

‛ we always will thrive. ’

‛ children don’t learn to hate from their parents. they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ they catch it like german measles. ’

‛ the moon is cheese and everyone should own a gun. ’

‛ women ask to be black and blue and pregnant their entire lives. ’

‛ the earth is flat and the white man knows what’s best for everyone. ’

‛ don’t you know what you might see? ’

‛ don’t look at the picture. don’t go to the theater. don’t you know what you will see? ’

RHAPSODY.

‛ i turn a corner, see a rat in the rubble as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ as i try with all my might to put it out of mind. ’

‛ i step on some budweiser glass. a limousine drives by. ’

‛ a rich man turns a corner, sees a rat in the rubble. ’

‛ he raises his smile glass window and reads the wall street journal. ’

‛ sky’s not free. river’s not free. i’m not free. life’s not free. ’

‛ life’s not free in the city. ’

‛ i’m told i too must wear a tie or they’ll fire me from my boring nothing job. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment. ’

‛ i guess a tie is the ornament of establishment, though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ though it seems to me to be more of a leash than a bow. ’

‛ so many people hounded to the pound. ’

‛ so many people collared to the dollar. ’

‛ okay, freedom is a state of mind. i agree. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why. ’

‛ but i need the elements to remind me why with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. ’

‛ with all this steel and concrete and noise about money. honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ honey, you get tunnel vision. ’

‛ you forget that there’s earth below the subway and beyond the ‘scrapers, there’s sky. ’

‛ i plan a day in the country with you. ’

‛ having gotten home from work last night at 12:30 am. ’

‛ having fallen asleep last night at 3:30 am because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ because i couldn’t shut down my mind. ’

‛ the city never sleeps. ’

‛ as the phone rang this morning, your sweet was calling, i looked at that clock. ’

‛ how i hate that damn clock. ’

‛ i excuse myself from our date. ’

‛ see, i had to be back by mid-afternoon. ’

‛ and i know these are lame excuses and i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i’m so damn sorry. ’

‛ i know it’s important, but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me. ’

‛ but i feel like i’ve gotten my priorities beaten out of me with a rolled-up new york times. ’

‛ and this leash keeps tanking on my tie. ’

‛ i love ‘rhapsody in blue’ too. it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ it’s just that he was rich when he wrote it. ’

‛ and only the rats, the roaches, the rubble and the rich men are free in the city. ’

SOS.

‛ this may be my final message. ’

‛ this may be the final bow. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. ’

‛ i’m sure i don’t know what will happen. does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ does it matter anyhow? ’

‛ i hear footsteps down the hall. ’

‛ don’t know how much they’ll allow. ’

‛ if you’re waiting for the last reel, i think the time is now. ’

‛ i think the time is now. ’

‛ sos, oh, savior! ’

‛ sos, oh, hero! ’

‛ sos, messiah! ’

‛ yes, oh yes, oh! ’

‛ sos, oh jesus! ’

‛ sos, oh buddhal! ’

‛ sos, emmanuel!  ’

‛ this may be my final hour. ’

‛ this may be the dying day. ’

‛ though they never taught me why in school, i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ i think i’m learning how to pray. ’

‛ they are right outside the door. ’

‛ don’t know why they keep on stalling. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before. ’

‛ i know you’ve heard this all before, but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ but it’s the last time that i’m calling. ’

‛ sos, almighty! ’

‛ sos, oh yahwah! ’

‛ sos, oh mighty zeus! ’

‛ sos, oh allah! ’

‛ does anybody hear? ’

‛ does anybody hear? answer me now if you do. ’

‛ answer me now if you do. ’

‛ is anybody there? ’

‛ is anybody there? i need you. ’

‛ i need you. ’

‛ this may be the curtain call. ’

‛ does it matter anymore? ’

‛ i asked why. that’s why i say make a try. it’s only a play. ’

‛ that’s why i say make a try. ’

‛ it’s only a play. ’

LOVE HEALS.

‛ like a breath of midnight air. ’

‛ like a lighthouse, like a prayer. ’

‛ like a flicker and the flare the sky reveals. ’

‛ like a walk along the shore that you’ve walked a thousand times before. ’

‛ like the ocean roars, love heals. ’

‛ there are those who shield their heart. ’

‛ those who quit before they start. ’

‛ who’ve frozen up the part of them that feels. ’

‛ in the dark they’ve lost their sight, like a ship without a star in the night. ’

‛ but it’s alright. love heals. ’

‛ love heals when pain’s too much to bear. ’

‛ when you reach out your hand and only the wind is there. ’

‛ when life’s unfair, when things like us are not meant to be. love heals. ’

‛ when you feel so small like a grain of sand, like nothing at all. ’

‛ when you look out at the sea. that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where love will be. ’

‛ that’s where you’ll find me. ’

‛ you’ll find me. ’

‛ so if you fear the storm ahead as you lie awake in bed. ’

‛ no one there to stroke your head and your mind reels. ’

‛ if your face is salty wet and you’re drowning in regret, just don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget. ’

‛ don’t forget love heals. ’

‛ love heals. ’

PIANO.

‛ when the world is a constant jumble and a wall or two decides to tumble. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line. ’

‛ when i think i’m at the end of the line, somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get to you in time. ’

‛ somehow i get through to you in time. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul again. ’

‛ you saved my soul again. ’

‛ oh piano, you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ you saved my soul, amen. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ but i got a song to sing. ’

‛ i may not play like a concert man, but i got soul. ’

‛ but i got soul. ’

‛ piano, save my soul. ’

[wiggly-blue-shite]

Chapter 14 The Bell Doesn’t Dismiss You (Tedgens)

Hey there's a couple slurs that are gonna be thrown around a little later. Also some really bad parenting soooo Yeah. Heads up.

"I'm definitely Bi." I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I got here. I don't know how I got this lucky. I don't deserve this. Somethings going to go wrong. Good things aren't usually very permanent in my life.

"What did you lie about?" Henry looks almost scared. I probably shouldn't have phrased it like that. I don't I just thought it was a decent line.

I don't know how to phrase it, without it sounding off.

"You were the one who made me question..." Henry's smiling so much. I forgot what I was going to say. His smile is just so perfect. "You're adorable."

"I could say the same thing about you." Henry giggles. Just when I think he can't get more adorable he does.

"Can I kiss you again?" I don't know how I've resisted him for this long. I went almost an hour without kissing him, that's pretty impressive, I would say.

Henry nods with that dorky smile still plastered on his face. My heart feels like it's exploding, in like a good way.

I lean in and kiss him. He kisses back. His lips are so soft. Wow.

He wraps his arms around my neck pulling me closer to him. I instinctually put my arms around his waist. This is far more comfortable. I think this is the most pleasant kiss I've experienced in months. No one's drunk or crying! It's just pleasant. Everything is good in this moment.

I pull away for a second to catch my breath. Henry starts to move me backwards. My back hits the wall. Henry starts pushing into me more. My heart rate starts slowing down.

Henry pulls away for a second and looks me in the eyes. He starts to laugh. He steps away and leans up against the counter.

Did I do something wrong? Why is he laughing? God damnit.

"This isn't real." Henry starts laughing. He keeps laughing. That's the laugh of someone who is deeply sad. I've heard it before, in a couple of different people.

"I sure hope it is." I find that I am still up against the wall. I adjust my posture so I'm standing less awkwardly.

I never did understand that kind of mentality: The "this isn't real" thought process. I don't really have vivid dreams so I guess I don't have a good reference point. Just you're life is so definite, you are conscious. I don't understand how anyone could every doubt that. What's happening is happening. Denial is bad for everyone.

"Because I've lived my whole life, had my whole life up to this point and time. It would really suck if none of that was real." I know if that makes sense. I might just be spouting nonsense at Henry. Henry doesn't say anything. He looks back at me with almost a surprised expression. "I'm capable of existential thoughts, Henry." Not that I experience them that often.

Henry nods and kind of looks off. I walk over to him. There's a little bit of curly hair in his face, so I move it. Henry looks me in the eyes.

"So this is real. All of today happened." He seems unsure. He's so intelligent, you would think that stuff like this wouldn't be a problem for him.

"I'm pretty sure." I smile. Henry smiles back at me. I peak him on the nose. Henry reverts back to bright red.

We kind of just stand there smiling at each other. I familiarize myself with every detail of his face. He is unnecessarily attractive.

"Oh shit I smeared your lipstick." Henry starts rubbing the outline of my mouth. I could melt. I know he's trying to rub off the makeup, but I don't know. It feels intimate.

"I honestly completely forgot I had this on." I paid the pizza guy like this. And he didn't even bat an eye. He was either pretty progressive or did not give two shits.

Henry smiles a little. He stops rubbing my face. We stand in a comfortable silence, just staring at each other.

"So what do you want to do now?"

A lot of things...

No that would probably hurt him. I don't want to hurt his feelings. We can just have some good wholesome fun.

"Want to watch a movie?" I shrug slightly. Something low energy sounds really nice. It's been a long day and it would be really nice to relax.

Henry's eyes light up.

"West Side Story! I want to watch West Side Story!" Henry looks like he just realized that he yelled that out. "It's on Netflix." I can't help but to laugh. He's such a dork. It's really adorable. "Don't laugh at me." Henry does a little fake offended voice. He pushes me playfully. I want to grab his arm and pull him into another kiss, but I decide against it.

"I'm not!" I would say I was laughing with him but he wasn't laughing so that doesn't really work.

"Yes you are!" He's like a little kid.

"I'm not even laughing." It's good that I'm basically just a little kid too. The perfect balance of subtle immaturity.

"You were!" Henry takes a step towards me like he's trying to be intimidating. He maybe taller than me, but he's too cute to be intimidating, in this moment at least.

"Prove it." I take a step as well so we're head to head, less than a foot apart. We stare at each other, just waiting for someone to make a move. This tension is... interesting.

"Sooo, West Side Story." Henry finally breaks the silence. He smiles.

"Sounds good." If he enjoys it, it's probably a pretty good show. He seems like a pretty cultured guy, for the most part.

"Great!" I love his smile so much. I don't know what it is. It's just so perfect.

During the movie, I was able to pull off the arm around the shoulder thing. That lead to him leaning into me. It was so warm and nice. I don't know.

I don't know how I ever thought I was straight. I guess I didn't really know Henry. Henry might be the only guy I'm attracted to. But there was...

"I feel pretty

Oh, so pretty" Henry hums along.

"You are pretty." I can't stop myself from whispering in his ear. I can feel his face heat up from here.

"I feel pretty, and witty and gay"

"Pretty, witty and gay? That sounds familiar." It's not that I don't like the movie, it's just very serious at times. And yeah blah blah blah Romeo and Juliet, tragedy and whatever. But I'm just saying I would pay to see a version of this that's just the funny happy parts. A two hour long version of America.

"Shhhhh watch the movie." He's enjoying it. I came here for him, it's important that he's enjoying himself.

Henry head rests on my shoulder. I don't want to move, ever. I just want to stay like this, then one day I'll die, and it would have been a good life.

The movie ends. Henry looks up at me with big old puppy eyed waiting for my response.

"It was good." Romeo and Juliet is not my story. They just seem kind of naive. "I like the music."

"The music is the important part, at least in this one." I feel a rant coming on, "Leonard Bernstein is a genius. The music of this show is just so beautiful. The classical and the Latin music just." Henry makes some noises that I assume mean that it's too good for words, but I'm paraphrasing gibberish. "I don't know how to explain it."

"We'll just have to watch it again sometime." I smile down at him. He looks really happy. I'm really happy. This is just good.

I see something light up out of the corner of my eye. Shit my phone.

I've been getting messages and shit this whole time and I haven't been responding.

17 missed calls, 10 voicemails, and 59 text messages. Wow you would think someone died. Wait did someone die.

Mom: Get home now. We need to talk.

Keith: Who do you fucking think you are

He's in my fucking house again. What does that bastard think he's doing. I wish my mom fucking stayed away from him. He doesn't do anything but drink and scream. He doesn't pay rent. I don't think he has a fucking job.

What are they even mad about. What could I have possibly done. He's mad when I'm there, and he's mad when I'm not. He usually doesn't  care when I spend nights at other people's houses.

Keith: You disgust me

Like you're any better.

Mom: What is this

She sent me the picture I had taken with the makeup. Shit. Why did I post that. Fuck. I'm such a fucking idiot.

Keith: I knew you were a fucking faggot

Mom: Get home now

I'm scared to listen to the voicemails. I don't want to go home. Keith's definitely drunk. I want to go help mom but, she'll probably scream. I can't go home right now.

"Hey can I spend the night here?" I shouldn't load this on Henry. But I feel safe here. "I sleep on the couch."

"Yeah is everything alright?" Henry seems so genuinely concerned. He's not bill or Paul, he doesn't know the drill yet. I'm kind of sad he had to learn about this so early on.

"I just can't go home."

[mag68dom]

Ships set to sail numbers set to dial and a house set to rule the world upon measures we've yet to encounter. But before we could questions ships cell phones and a house first let look at these women from various parts of the world. The first women said I am from Korea. And I said wait fairly for your turn and I'll spare you from what we already know about Korea folded in part. The second woman said I am from Europe. And I said wait fairly for your turn and I'll spare you the greed in which twinkle in your mind. Then a women from Russia stood and a woman from China stood. And these where all ask to wait fairly for their turn and will begin as laid before us. Then the women from American stood and said all these women have gotten here unfairly. I said what do you mean by saying such. America said all these business has risen up in junction by placing an ax in the hard work of my children who came up out of the 1900. But when I said to these business fall out in rank and state your bondmen business these had no jointing acquaintances with all my children. In fact when it was ask to prove your helping counter parts. We found a Chinese women sowing the field to measure up to corporate business borders. And we found a Korea women pressing humans to a full court press. Those who found themselves pleasing and disfigured that they were. I said what by means of cheating is the goal. America said I'm not done. I said continue. Then American said the European woman makes her clothes off. I believe she a sex set up in mind and she's gone mad attempting to have her way. But I believe she's a he this faggot who knows not the measure of a distance I am speaking on. And if it's a man he be a sex creation to destroy the habitat of the world as laid down before us. And if it's a woman she will be told on upon in her way of cheating to appear like that of fair business. I said I pretty much know about the sex spi these will be but a distance attempting a thought or two. But go on with what we don't know before the ships begin to sail and phone begins to dial.

America first I want to say enough with the technology. And for these European to think then say with enough technology to drive me or you mad the cats out the bag. I mean how long are you still practicing to cut in and out of illustration. Who waste high tech to be that relevant. Who goes out of their way to station a stay in ones mind. Who doesn't know about these hiding within those. I'm tired of dead asses looking to move in on two fronts. One withholding and that all I have to frame on that front. I would like to make one call on one ship and see who had trouble filling in other than where the call is. Then will Continue with American say with Russia and China. America could you give briefly about the house if there is one. It was at the peek of some series I forget how we were position and you took to drag myself by boundaries I knew not and called all sorts of names then look my way and said cut off my supply. Then I thought to myself and said I must wait on another thought of mines soon to arrive. I knew not how soon that's where I went into the streets to hid from those attempting to pass with myself inside. And I knew you'd come looking threw my thoughts to steal all you can then replace the jewels with rubbles a concious that was from out of a clock or maybe a ticking bomb. I remember first to lock all the entrances then once you made away in my mind I sat and witness with you. Then I took you to places in such a listening that you literally died before you could leave my mind and prepare for the worst. Each time you mounted up a vision and sought to make your way in I had already matched you up and continue to show you things you knew not. Then once some stern guidance came your way you took to challenge with such greed that only you could lust after. In the house was written no once and eternal death for those who felt free enough to challenge their own no. In the lower part their was no trust towards the upper part. And in the upper part was match to any distance weather dollar signs or universal signs. And on the out side of the house was written "where did you go wrong on the surface." Then some time came and ate up the living of the dead who went on a journey looking for myself hiding in the streets. Then those who said no but not a inch nor a mile further then the no to seal found themselves free to Rome a certain Arch and try the thinking of what they impose. And I had already let them be but these again got greedy and found some sort of authority to intrude. Then I went behind close doors and counted to one million twenty times then began to record both the distance and amount. Having replenish for only a personal stay I could hear the traces of you again attempting to impose another strategy but couldn't find start to finish or ending to beginning. Then you heard but said to yourself I remember where and why I separated the two. But no not the sequence of the data. Then you went into your denile and began pasting where you allow the well to go empty. But having read the record you continue to fish for data this time turning over loaves making everyone sick for piety of your own will to immediately forget which step you would betray on.

Speaking about betrayal America I remember you asking about communities and what might of happen to them. Did I not tell you that your communities were taking from you by this Asian gang looking to stunt the prosperity of your people by way of stealth. These felt to snatch from off stage out of studio booths etc and pin these talents as a suppressing force. Then after some time these took to look in my direction and saw that I was one who is naked for all to see and said what forces you all came to tune in. Is not the stage fully loaded with sighting such as yourselves to grow proud and strong. Then someone in a pool of blood spoke from within and said we are looking for a fight. And I said a fight is beyond your reach. What part of the future are you returning from in such a hurry with all kinds of steals as this. Do you not know the author of the calendar. Are you not aware of those in your blood who are in debt to you and that they must leave from within with their heart set on something out of their control. You who see and find yourself ready to pitch such fight from one who is naked for all to see. Before you could lay hands you'll be hung from the heart first. Then seeing your not even whom you define yourself to be will continue to look on by the lock of your bloodstream to do so. But know that once I'm cloth and show you where you err on a perfected calendar then you'll come to know why I sat back and watch you where you thought not to look and see who's looking at you without a community. But America was captured by a role of film and has since never been the same. Do not other communities know on which morrow they will be taking off because a spec of blood lost its way upon a certain path of creation. But continue to look at ground zero and see the glass as is but anyone who can see pass the glass and authorize it to stand as one direction that has conquer their community then you have watch in vein and in vein I will hold you accountable.

[lucysmuse]

november 8, 2019

ive been home all week boarded up with bronchitis. needless to say its resulted in one big fat greek meltdown full of theatrics so many tears and a lot of despair about what im doing with my life. i think i might end it after all this, im not sure. decisions are hard to make what can i say.

im an art major and i have a huge issue with motivation, deadlines, a lack of guidance, and im an art major. what the fuhk am i even doing. 

i havent made a single piece of art in weeks. its like when i was starting lithium. im terrified.

also forgot about eating today, unless a handful of peanut m&ms counts. ive been eating so awful lately; id feel bad for whoever would have to clean my body if i hung myself haha the hell that would put them through to deal with it 

i finally got back to watching better call saul, caught up to where i left off, and continued on to what is now the latter half of season 2. i plan to finish and then jump right into the start of breaking bad again. i miss my old favorite show. 

i wish i had friends who really cared about cinematography and aesthetics because i have been wanting to just drivel on about how breaking bad and its spinoffs are the perfect ode to modern americana; the sheer amount of domestic, tame, almost siesta-hazy shots of just. life in desert america. fuels me with the want to draw so many cowboys in opulent garb in various states of undress (hubba hubba). now that i got that straight white woman out of my system, Anyways. 

my favorite part about the shows arent just that theyre interesting or edgy on the inside drama on the oustide, or the insane amount of ingenuity the show writers have (half the $hit they think up im astounded by and the other half my jaw is just on the floor start to finish), the long shots are what really gets me. theyre pausing, like taking a breath amongst all of the high wire, almost bleak scenes and plot regarding crime and how morally grey we all as people are. i also appreciate the humanity of each character -- theres some good parts in all, and bad parts in all that get more than a few lines. and even then -- hey, look at ernesto -- there is nuance. the show is so empty of fake characters. not a single one of them couldnt exist in real life for any reason. never do i question whether one character would or would not do something, because even if i were to have doubts gilligan & co back it up with so much context and reason that everything checks out before its even done. 

better call saul centers on one of my favorite characters from the original series and gives him a backstory. his character is absolute tacky insanity and you want to know during the entirety of the original series what could possibly go on after walt leaves that office. and better call saul not only does that but drags you along for a much more adrenaline filled explanation than you could have possibly asked for. 

but the still shots. god i love the still shots. like come on the theme to better call saul alone, with the overexposed fried images of oldsmobiles and phone books with gaudy ads and a statue of liberty inflatable. that alone is enough to wrap southwest americana of the past couple decades up in a tightly knotted bow. but then they go on, and let the freak flag fly in just about every episodes script. like come on they even bring up hummels. the scene they led into by wheeling the camera in on the seniors’ jello cart, thats genius. and complete with a tacky law ad at the bottom of the cup. the show from start to finish bleeds tack. and i love it. over the last couple months maybe a year or so i had kinda lost my grip on the cowboy blood i have, by which i mean this: if i were to be alive during the quote unquote wild west times i wouldve zipped out to the country to make a living on a ranch where id soon find a husband to spend my life with, there would be no discussion. to be out isolated with all that desert and not a single person to call you faggot or tranny or d*ke but yourself. thats the only thing i could possibly ask for. i could be me, and my husband would lovingly sew my nipples back on after i go insane and cut my tits off one night instead of bringing the horses in. a chestplate of scar tissue is miles more appealing than an a cup if you ask me. to go back to what i was saying, the cowboy blood in me is simply that--blood that fizzles and swims through my body and heats up at the idea of being in the desert and being myself, calling myself the man that i am with a man who loves me. (and some cool boots too)

i dont know what this post was. its not coherent, i forget to follow through on a thought a few times throughout, and i still dont know what i want to do with my life. what i do know is that before writing this i was debating slitting my wrists and now those thoughts have settled. i also have french homework to finish and a little over a season left of better call saul on netflix so i think with that i bid this post a passive adieu. think of the next entry as picking up where i left off.

song: me & the boys (& a bottle) by tokyo lucky hole

[blackrosesfanfic]

Chapter 144

Cammie

Trey makes a face at me. "Love you."

"Why can't you stay on the phone?"

"I told you, Jay. Bye." he says covering the screen.

He normally does it until I hang up. Today I'm not hanging up. Like I just don't feel like believing that he is 100% faithful today. It's all according to what he does and says. Like he never talks to me as he is getting ready or when his new stylist is around. I hate that. Or the fact that he never video chats me when other people are around. It all makes me wonder. I stare at the blank screen until he moves his hand.

"Jay, Baby?"

"Hmm?"

He sighs. "Here. Talk to CiCi."

I suck my teeth. "No, Tremaine."

"Hey, Cammie."

"Hey." I huff.

She giggles. "Okay then bye."

She doesn't actually hang up. Instead she smiles at the camera then sits it down. She carefully props it up so that I could see Trey fumbling through the clothes. Some lady comes up holding a shirt. He turns back to what he is doing. She brings him something else. He holds it up then holds it out to CiCi who folds it across her arm. Okay, I'm done with this. I hang up. That was boring as shit.

"Hey, Bay." Sevyn says walking in. "Let's walk downstairs."

"I only have a few minutes."

She gestures to me to follow her. I remove my top shirt and replace it with the one I wear downstairs. I've been doing this so much I have a routine now. I even know everyone that works in the café. I'm super glad no one is stunting me.

"Hey, Cammie." someone says excited.

"Um, hey." I say catching up with Sevyn.

Amber looks at me and smile. "What are you thinking about?"

"Like I seriously hate this life."

"Why?" she says stopping in front of a door.

I pause when she starts to enter the room. "Cause... Why we going in here?"

She grabs my hand. "You have an amazing life, Bae. Listen, in a few weeks, you will be home with your perfect family and you will be saying it all different. Trust me."

"Yeah." I shrug looking around the room. "What is this?"

"Something Trey setup." April says smiling extra hard.

"Oh." I say numb.

April touches my hand. "Just say hey and leave if you want. They understand."

The room was filled with roses and only a few people. I feel so nervous for some reason. I mean that maybe what I feel. I just know the numbness is greater than anything. MiMi comes up to me.

"Stop acting like my breast stank." she whines checking herself.

"I meant to tell you MiMi." Sevyn whispers moving her from me. "We have food. Please say you already ate so I can eat the fruit by myself."

I take a shallow deep breath. "Hey, everyone."

It's MiMi, Sevyn, Hidia, Leah, April, and Teyanna. Teyanna looks up from her phone when I speak. She comes over to me then smiles.

"I'm reposting some of your pictures as relationship goals."

"What picture?"

She smiles. "Bitches came all the way to my snap to hate."

I take her phone. "Pictures of me?"

"Oh." she says grabbing the phone back. "Your husband breaking hearts on Twitter, SnapChat, everything. Here is him and Lane on Snapchat making breakfast. Then it's videos of you guys fighting over the camera. So cute. What I love is the Instagram panel of your face. Takes up the whole screen."

"What is that man's problem?" I say.

"Well he explained minutes before blowing everything up with your face."

I watch the video of him singing. He stops then starts talking about how he missed me. I have never know Trey to be so open about anything. He is trying to prove a point with this. I've always been here and there on his page. It's his page. Not really much about me. Now he goes and puts my face all over his page.

"Damn, did he cheat on me?"

"Why would you think that first?" MiMi says. "He misses you."

I go to the buffet table. "MiMi shut up with that Yana save my life bullshit."

MiMi kisses my cheek. "Anyway, how is the man upstairs?"

"God? Oh he cool."

"I hate you." MiMi snaps walking away.

I turn to them. "Y'all I swear I don't feel like being happy. I'm glad y'all love me."

"Yeah, we know you Cammie." Hidia says. "I'm just glad I was included cause like damn I get left out of everything like I don't stay in Atlanta."

"Awh, boohoo." MiMi says.

Hidia laughs. "Damn, I was convinced."

April hugs me. "How is the baby doing this morning? I've been trying to give you your space. I know those nurses are already annoying."

"I mean for real. Like I have to get permission to touch my baby. I don't." I say eating a banana. "Well, I'm going back upstairs."

"Girl, you make me scared to be doing this all over after so many years."

I glance at Leah. Why was that needed? "Don't let me be your guide."

April moves towards the door. "I'll walk you back upstairs."

"Yes, before I lose my support with this cloud of sorrow."

"I love you, Bae." Teyanna says. "Can I come see the baby?"

I turn around and smile. "Yes, of course. Come see him."

"Caden what?"

"Caden Elijah." I smile.

Leah frowns. "I saw the little bundle this morning for the first time. I cried so hard for so long. He is so precious. I can't take it. I'm ready for you to be busy and need a quick sitter."

"Leah, she is married. No quickies." MiMi snaps.

"Love you." Amber says.

April and I leave. "I'm glad you came down."

"I'm so gloomy right now. Leah was making me mad with her drama."

"I know. She is pregnant you and I both know she meant no harm."

I roll my eyes. "All of them wanted me to feel good about this. I can't. I can't even get around thinking he done something negative. I'm screwed up."

"With reason."

"April."

"I'm trying to be supportive, damn it."

I giggle. "Oh, yes, continue."

All she does is smile at me. April has been very supportive. I hate that I'm so attached from everyone. It seems like no one truly understands how I feel. My youngest baby boy is stuck in the hospital with tubes everywhere that I know are uncomfortable. My oldest is thousands of miles away with my love. Nothing is going my way.

  Chris

"Hey, Chrissy." Sevyn says.

"Amber Ass."

She giggles. "I know my ass brown thanks."

I lay back on the bed. "Things are fucked up around here."

"Are they? Trey seems to be fine."

"And when did you figure this out when he talking to Cammie, the person that fucking makes everything gold? How many times you been pissed off and Cammie makes it all good by smiling at you? Anyway, shit not all good."

Sevyn makes a sad face. "Yeah, and Cammie going through a lot. The baby is doing better. Gaining weight."

"I thought I was ready for a baby but the shit is no walk in the park."

"No, it's not."

She gets extremely silent. We stare at each other saying anything. I initially came to Europe to help out. Now I see that the only thing good for Trey is to get back to the other half of his family. He has Lane here which will really help him.

"We went out last night. I won't do that again."

"What do you mean?"

I sigh. "Well, Trey... Don't worry about."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." I say looking away.

I shouldn't have started that statement. The problem is that Trey is too stressed to be in the company of pretty available women. I didn't like how friendly he was being with them. I believe that the night could have possibly ended with him and so random girl. I could tell he wanted freedom from all of this. Maybe a night where he no longer had the responsibility of a family on top of everything. I started acting drunk and making him mad. Eventually we left the club where I instantly sobered up but I started talking about Lane and how he waiting up for us, which is true. He knows Trey was gone.

"Christopher!"

"Hmm?" I say focusing on her.

"You got to tell me."

I lie too easily. "Trey has been having a bad attitude. Almost fought this person. Plus Lane was up waiting for him."

It's not my place to put that burden on her. She shouldn't have to hide that. It's more understandable for a man to hide a man's secrets. Trey wouldn't ever forgive me if I fucked up his marriage. I wouldn't forgive myself.

"Aye, I danced with this big booty hoe." I say to Sevyn.

"I kissed this big booty joe."

I laugh. "Sound like a faggot."

She rolls her eyes. "Trey setup this small dinner for Cammie. We expected her to reject the idea but it was so fucking hard to actually witness. I wanted to reach out and take all her pain away. It's like she is blanked by grief."

"Yeah, I heard from Trey."

"Is that why he blowing up the internet with her?"

I shrug. "I missed that."

"It's all over his Instagram and everything. Cammie feels like he did it just because he cheating on her."

"Why would she think that?" I say freaking out on the inside.

Sevyn shrugs. "She is fragile. She could think anything."

I breathe deeply. "She should voice it to him."

"No, she shouldn't." Sevyn snaps. "She gets a little happy when she talks to him. There is no need to bring in frustration. Imma go talk to her. Call me back in a little while."

"Don't hang up."

She stares at the phone. "What?"

I sit up. "How are you doing? Trey and Cammie aren't the only ones in the world."

"I'm going good." She smiles.

"What are we doing after Trey returns to America?"

"Going to Florida right? I ordered this cute new bathing suit."

"Where we going we gonna be swimming naked."

She giggles. "It's that secluded?"

I nod. "We haven't done something together in a while. I got a lot of stuff planned."

"Chris, I really think you grew a lot. I hate so many people had to deal with the other you. I like the improvement."

"Thanks." I say smiling more on the inside.

"I'm being serious though. I know I got issues and all so I don't know where this will end up but I'm glad we tried... Trying it."

I raise my eyebrows. "I am too."

"Trey only has 4 days."

"That's it?"

She nods. "Yeah."

The room door opens. "Aye, these bitches... You on the phone?"

"Go ahead." Sevyn says kissing at me. "Call me back."

"Nope." I say looking at him.

He stands there silent then kicks back into monster mode. "They want me to close the show instead of it going like it was. So I will only be on stage for 2 songs. One of which is me and Nicki song. They got me fucked if they think I'm doing that shit."

"The fuck?"

"Exactly." he retorts. "They supposed to be bringing in some fucking British brat in. I ain't getting pushed back."

I stand up. "Aye, look. I know you committed to this and everything but you not needed here."

"What?"

"Go home before you fuck something up."

He gives me a cold look. "Let these bitches win by running home. Fuck no."

I didn't want the anger turned on me. "So what you want? Go on stage anyway at your time?"

"I'm thinking that. Let them ruin the show by taking me off."

"Fuck them."

He stares at me. I stand there looking back at him. I gave him the best way out of the shit. I'm going to keep thinking of other ways to get this man home tomorrow. I'm going to come up with something. But for this moment it's me and him against them. Lane neutralizes the rage of Trey by entering the room. He was carrying some index cards.

"That say Daddy?"

"Jump."

Lane shuffle the cards in his little hand. "That say?"

"Could."

"That say, Chris?" Lane says walking to me. "No, say that. That say?"

I chuckle. "Purple."

Lane hands me the card. "I not like purple. You like purple?"

"Yeah."

"That say?"

"Apple. A."

He flips the card over. "It red, Chris?"

"Yes."

Trey walks out of the room. I follow. He is picking up the cards that Lane had scattered around the floor. Lane runs in the room to help him. I pick the ones up by my feet. That little boy is saving Trey right now. Lane makes him laugh. He grabs him and tickle him messing all the cards up again.

"Damn it." Lane says looking at the pile. "All my words."

"Son." Trey says then laughs.

Lane starts trying to fix them. "I do it."

[oneweekoneband]

ALL THE WAY ACROSS TOWN: Contributor’s Roundtable

The very first decision I made about this week (before, in fact, Hendrik had even given me the go ahead) was that if I was going to do it, I wasn’t going to do it alone. Part of that was self-preservation: Green Day are a massive band, with a three-decade-long career and insurmountable amounts of energy. It’s a lot for one person to tackle. Even between the five of us, we’ve barely managed to scratch the surface.

But more than that, there was this nagging feeling that’s only grown more powerful over the course of this week, that it would really just be a shame if only one person wrote about Green Day. They belong to everyone. They’re there for the people who need them, when they need them, for whatever they need them for. Yes, they mean the world to me. The thing is, they probably mean the world to you, too.

So I put out the call on Twitter and my blog (restricting it somewhat to my circle of acquaintances by doing so, unfortunately, but this did make me more comfortable with asking in the full knowledge that I wouldn’t be able to pay any contributors for their work), and I got lucky: most of the people I was secretly hoping would offer to write about Green Day did just that. And, oh man, did they write. I can’t express how proud I am to have been able to give those pieces a platform, and to have myself and my writing associated with them and their writers. I was so impressed with the generosity and honesty of everyone’s writing that I wanted to hear more, and so I suggested the idea of a roundtable, where we could all come together to talk about our mutual topic: Green Day. This is the result.

All of us, this week, have touched on notions of belonging and acceptance in our pieces. There’s been an undertone, throughout, of the notion of Green Day as a safe space of some sort - whether it be for kids to start to figure themselves or the whole punk rock business out, or in the crowd at gigs, or as not-male or not-straight music fans. Do any of you have any more (or more specific) thoughts about this? Is this a feature of Green Day’s music, or the band themselves, or something else entirely? (Despite my piece on punk, I know it’s not as simple as that, as I’ve been in more than one punk space and met more than a few punks who made me feel unsafe - there’s a difference between ideal and reality, always.) What is it that makes a band feel “safe”?

KJ:  I think I thought of Green Day as a supportive space for all sorts of people who were different, and therefore avoided owning up to liking them because I didn't want to be thought of as different? Thankfully, I've gotten over that.

Jessie:  For me, it’s a combination of factors. Some of it has to do with the punk thing. Green Day weren’t the first punk band I heard--that honor goes to another East Bay band, Operation Ivy--but sometimes I call Green Day my first punk band because it was around the time I first heard them that I started thinking of punk as an identity. I have definitely felt unsafe in punk spaces/around certain punks, and I guess Green Day sort of represented some utopian ideal of punk as this super welcoming club for nerds, freaks, and outcasts. I’m not sure why that is--maybe because of the scene they came out of, or maybe, because I said in my piece on “She,” it felt like they understood what it was like to be freaks and outcasts. Which leads into the second reason they felt safe to me, and that was entirely about their music. I was being bullied pretty much constantly during the time when I first heard them, and it just felt like they understood that. Like they’d been there. I mean, Dookie had a song (“Having A Blast”) about getting revenge on the people who bullied you. (More on that song later.) The third reason they felt safe to me is a very personal one, and it may sound weird, but--they felt safe to me because I didn’t have a crush on any of the band members. From the age of 12 to around 17 (or maybe even older, but that would lead into some topics that are beyond the scope of this roundtable), I usually ended up getting a crush on at least one member of every band I liked. I mean sexual fantasy-type crushes. And I was sort of terrified of my burgeoning sexuality (for many reasons). But with Green Day, I thought of them more like cool older brothers than people I wanted to get with, and that made them feel safer to me than a lot of other bands.

Jacqui: Jessie, I’ve never even thought about it the way you put at the end there, but now that you have I completely agree. I’ve also never had a crush on any of them, and it does make a difference. There’s something a lot safer about wanting to swap guacamole recipes with Mike, for instance, than ever having been properly attracted to him would have been. 

Alice:  It was much the same for me, though I think Green Day was my first punk band (or, possibly, The Offspring). But Green Day also was sort of a gateway drug, in terms of pop punk, and I think that in so many ways the pop punk scene of the early-to-mid-2000s was my safe space. It’s like we’ve said, that punk in reality isn’t always the safe space it is supposed to be - and of course, it is different for everyone and we are ignorant, of certain things, when we’re young. But when I was growing up, in Alabama, there weren’t many spaces for me. The pop-punk boom/resurgence of the 2000s was a saving grace, I think. Those bands - Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, etc. - and the people I met through them, mostly online, became a huge part of the ways in which I reckoned with myself and my identity. Between “Well, maybe I’m the faggot America / I’m not a part of the redneck agenda” and Bert McCracken (of The Used) wearing a shirt that said “Gay is OK”, I felt included and comforted by these group of weird punk misfit dudes.

This is perhaps a corollary to the above: as far as I know, everyone who’s written for this week is, in some way or another, not-straight. One of my favourite things ever written about Green Day, Cristy Road’s coming out memoir Spit and Passion, is also, obviously, written by a not-straight woman. I know that when I think of Green Day, I think of a band that is Not A Straight Band, in smaller ways and larger ones (I’m thinking of Billie Joe, of course, and of certain lyrics, and safe spaces, again, and of the secret-community like collection of “Coming Clean” tattoos I’ve seen over the years). What do you think?

Jessie:  I don’t know why so many not-straight people are into Green Day, but it certainly does seem to be true. I didn’t know that Billie Joe identified as bi until way after I got into the band, but when I found out I was like “Hell yeah! Yet another reason to love them!” Dookie came out the year I realized I was bi (though it would be another four years or so before I actual felt wholly comfortable with that label), and though there were no explicitly queer songs on it, it goes back to what I mentioned above--so many Green Day songs seem to speak to that sense of being an outcast, being lonely, being bullied, and one of the things that made me an outcast and that I was bullied about was my sexual orientation and gender expression. Another theory as to why so many not-straight folks love Green Day: they are not an uber-macho band. Billie Joe has often been seen wearing makeup, nail polish, even dresses; I’ve seen Tre in eyeliner, too, and he’s just sort of goofy-looking (I mean that as a compliment!). Mike is probably the most ‘masculine’-looking of the band members, but even he is not some meathead. There are just so many rock and punk bands that are so so into the whole machismo, look-at-me-I’m-a-man thing, and Green Day are not one of them and it’s great.

Cat: So, haha, funny story, Billie Joe is sort of the reason I admitted to myself that I liked girls. I mean, God knows every single person in my life knew I wasn’t straight, I was bullied for it relentlessly from the ages of eight to eighteen, but I was really terrified of this idea of “not being normal”. Small town, small school, white picket fences and 2.5 kids - I had this really clear idea that there was a Right way to live your life, which was “how everyone else was living it”, and that there was a Wrong way. And then I read that Advocate interview - which I was so happy to find again in your post about Coming Clean, Alice! - and Billie Joe says there, I think everybody is born bisexual, I think everybody fantasizes about the same sex. Which I disagree with as a point of view these days - but at the time, it was exactly what I needed to hear, to understand that my thoughts and feelings about girls weren’t just a random fluke that I needed to suppress. And then later I was able to move into a more mature standpoint, i.e., “oh, it doesn’t actually matter if this is normal or not, it’s okay anyway”, and also, “oh, I’m actually way more into girls than guys.” But I really, really needed that Advocate interview to get me to that place.

Alice: Thanks, Cat! Yeah, as I mentioned in my piece, I didn’t read The Advocate interview until much, much later. But I read it - when I was seventeen - exactly when I needed to read it. I don’t think that I ever connected Green Day, and the ways in which their music always meant so much to me,  to my being gay until that moment. It was a moment of satisfaction, reassurance, almost. Like oh this is maybe why they always felt like home to me.

KJ:  I have a very vivid memory of frantically late-night Wikipedia-ing a “list of bisexual celebrities” and feeling utterly relieved when I saw Billie Joe’s name. Like, if this guy who I looked up to could be bi, so maybe could I? Not for the first or fifteenth time, I thought about starting a band.

[ continued under the cut ]

We’ve also talked a lot about what Green Day meant to us, about our memories of the band and their songs, simply by virtue of this week being a retrospective of their career. Have your feelings changed, in the present? Do they mean/are they the same band to you now as they used to be?

Jessie: Green Day have drifted in and out of my life. They’ve grown as I have and sometimes I’ve needed them and other times I haven’t. It’s like they’re old friends who I sometimes go years without speaking to, but when we run into each other we pick up where we left off. Some of their albums have come out exactly when I needed to hear them, others have grown on me, others I’ll probably never be that into. But they’ll always mean a lot to me because of the things we went through together (to stretch that “old friends” metaphor), and I adore Revolution Radio--I think it’s their best album since American Idiot.

Cat: I mean, part of it’s just going to be the usual punk problem, i.e., American Idiot was the most important album of my entire life, it defined everything in my life, it was my constant soundtrack and the only thing that explained the world, and then Obama was elected president.

And then Trump was elected president! And suddenly it’s - not the most important album in the world, the Bush era was very specific and unique and I need slightly different content from my punk for 2017, but it means more to me than it did in 2010. It’s like cicadas, it comes out of the earth to scream every 16 years.

KJ:  Funny enough, I was up at my parents’ house the week before this OWOB started and my mother still uses the one mix tape I made her in high school as her alarm clock cd. So, while I'm thinking about Green Day and Having Some Real Feelings, out of nowhere comes the strains of “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” my mom's only acceptable Green Day song (all others deemed too noisy). So in a way, Green Day is less a rebellious sound and more a coming home, to me, now.

Is there anything else you wish you’d had the space to say about Green Day? Another song you wanted to cover, maybe, or a story or observation or thought that wouldn’t fit in any of your pieces?

Jessie: There is so, so, so much more I could say. A lot of thoughts and ideas came up over the course of this week. One thing I thought of that I eventually want to explore further is about “Having A Blast.” That song came out before Columbine, and I wonder if it sounds different to people who heard it for the first time after that. I wonder if that song could even be written now. In 1994, it sounded like a harmless way to vent about being bullied, a way to get our your anger without actually hurting anyone. Now that people have actually taken those feelings beyond the realm of fantasy, that song sounds a lot darker. 

Alice: Only that we really, really should have planned for a second roundtable, just to discuss Green Day’s cover of Eye of the Tiger.  

More seriously, I am a bit sad I wasn’t able to write a piece about the musical (sorry Jacqui!) - I had the chance to see it when it opened and it remains, to this day, the only Broadway show I’ve ever bought full price orchestra tickets for. It wasn’t perfect, but sitting in a Broadway theatre between people my age who had obviously been with the band since the beginning and women in their 60s and 70s who still wore gowns to the theatre - and seeing that they were both equally happy to be there - that was a really special moment for me.

KJ:  Oh man, eye of the Tiger! Ditto their “I Fought the Law” cover. Basically, I guess we should have luxuriated in covers.  

Jacqui: I know that I, personally, avoided covers this week because there was already so much to say about their original work. But if I had gone in that direction, it would have been “Working Class Hero”. One of the major ways I had of connecting with my dad was through music - a good 75% of the stuff I know about rock history, still, came from him - and this song and really the whole benefit album it was released on was an actual, tangible bridge between us (I have this incredibly fond memory of waiting for me just inside the door when I came home from school one day, bursting with the need to tell me that “Justin Timberlake is really talented, actually”). I’d also want to talk about the difficulties and complications of things like benefit albums, probably, and about Green Day’s activism in general.

Finally, is there anything you want to say to each other (or me) - responses to posts, questions you want to ask, etc?

Cat: I get the feeling I’m a lot younger than a lot of you - was born in ‘95, Bush’s election is my first real political memory, and you guys talk about American Idiot and the Iraq War and the ‘00s as things you experienced as people who were coming of age, not young kids. Do you all think that makes a difference? Do you need to be a certain age to appreciate Dookie in a certain way, for example? Also, jeez, y’all have been incredible, I’m so honored to be part of a week with such amazing and thoughtful writers for such an amazing and thoughtful band.

Jessie: Hmm, I don’t know if it’s an age thing. I will say that I’m probably the oldest one here--I was born in 1981!--but I know people who are 10-12 years younger than I am who heard Dookie as adolescents and loved it just as much as I did. So maybe it depends more on who you are/what your life was like when you heard it than on your actual age. 

I don't really have any questions for any of you, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed being part of this as well. All of you are amazing writers and I’ve loved reading your different perspectives on Green Day. Also, I’m working on a long essay-thing about Dookie (I’ve been mapping it out for about a month already!), and I may want to interview some of you for it, if that sounds like something you’d be interested in.

Alice: I certainly don’t think you need to have been a certain age to appreciate Dookie - like I’ve said, my mother loves early Green Day and she turned 65 this year. But I do think perhaps you’re right about American Idiot, not that it doesn’t hold meaning for people who were too young to remember 9/11 or people who were well into adulthood. But, I was born in 1990 and so my “coming of age” period was literally when Bush got elected. I very much remember watching the towers fall. And, as someone who had the questionable delight of meeting him personally, I certainly remember George Bush. There aren’t words for how important that album was, in that moment in time. Waking up when you’re eleven years old and realizing that world had suddenly and completely changed, and for reasons you don’t really understand - well. Music helped with that, it helped a lot. So, again, not that it didn’t or couldn’t mean the same to someone a bit younger than me (it obviously did!) but for someone who came of age in Obama’s America? I don’t think it’s possible to really get the very specific - and bleak, angry, defiant - zeitgeist American Idiot captured.  

I don’t have any questions either, but like Jessie I wanted to thank you all so much for this! I love doing One Week One Band and I loved it even more doing with it with y’all! And thank you Jacqui for facilitating this. It’s been an absolute blast.  

KJ: Just want to thank Jacqui for the opportunity to write about and come to terms with my Green Day fandom. (I don't think my therapist was...intending? To discuss a pop punk band for 30min this week?) Also re: age, it really doesn't matter, as there are many accessible avenues to Green Day. (Thatsaidamericanidiotisclearlythebestfightme.)Thanks again!

Jacqui: Jessie, I would be absolutely delighted if you decided to interview me, and am going to take a second right now to beg you to let me know when that essay goes live regardless, because I will definitely want to read it. I’ve left your mention of it in, here, so that people will know to keep an eye out for it!

I agree that age doesn’t matter when it comes to getting into Green Day, or even understanding them - there’s a difference between remembering a specific point in time and understanding or finding your own meaning in what came out of it, and I think that’s true of all art. Whatever you love, whatever sparks a feeling of recognition in you, that’s yours and no one can take that feeling away from you. That said, I do think there’s a difference in types of understanding when it comes to huge, world-shaping events like watching the towers fall (or, more positively: the development of the internet and its ability to facilitate both music sharing and community building.) Basically, I agree with Alice. No one is surprised.

Thank you so much again, everyone. It really has been a delight, and a privilege. I’ll be making a round up post that re-introduces you all and collects your contributions to end the week.

[fiftycucks-blog]

Fifty Grand & Distance Decay Discuss Antifa and Freedom of Speech

DISTANCE DECAY ok let's un pack this -

FIFTY GRAND It’s easy. I don’t support what antifa is doing Especially last night Gross and embarrassing Bunch of privileged college students breaking shit Then going back to the privacy of their homes And chillin maybe play some video games Nothing revolutionary Sorry Not fixing anything Not helping anyone Protesting milo yiannapoulous of all people It's a sad time for the left If this was coming from the right you damn well know you’d condemn it DISTANCE DECAY other people have opinions too - u can be anti violence urself but to not understand why people would oppose fascism with violence is what i'm not understanding - i believe u said on ur own facebook something about those complicit in the holocaust FIFTY GRAND But dude Milo isn't a fascist Come on This is bad If you can prove to me That milo is a fascist I’ll fall back Forever

DISTANCE DECAY ummm are you speaking for me now? u don't kno my politics - so let's not assume and ask eachother questions the tweet u quoted wasn't about milo it was about anti fascism FIFTY GRAND Right But who destroyed property and hurt people last night Innocent people Antifa So I'm trying to understand Why you think that's ok We aren't talking about literal Nazis

DISTANCE DECAY 1. i believe there's reports of yianopolos supporters and antifa 2. i'm personally not for violence where in do i say i'm okay with what happened last night again the tweet was about anti fascism FIFTY GRAND I'm talking about Milo tho Not his supporters DISTANCE DECAY and i thought we agreed not to assume? i'm all for talking here, ur feelings are valid i don't want u to feel as if they're not FIFTY GRAND I'm just responding to you DISTANCE DECAY i could just as easily say i'm speaking of anti fascism as an ideology not those who carry it out FIFTY GRAND You and I both know what the original tweet refers to Antifa The org And to go back to your original question I'm not neutral or pro DISTANCE DECAY are you pulling tribalism on me? FIFTY GRAND The fuck lmao ?? DISTANCE DECAY i just woke up - i mean this sincerely the "you and i both" confused me to the tweet earlier - i saw the police language tweet - i don't want u to feel that censoring u, just showing how i feel, but i don't want u to feel unvalidated in ur feelings either FIFTY GRAND No I get that. But like. If I wanna say the word cuck I can I'm not politically correct I don't feel the need to be Besides you keep bringing that up, did you not even see who I was responding to that day? Someone who was attacking my character and music as a comeback Yea I shut them down And I don't care It wasn't discourse DISTANCE DECAY yeah u can,  and i've seen u use it other times also on facebook but still i'm not gonna tell u what u can or can not say just so i can understand this we agree people can say what they want - correct? but i don't think that means freedom of consequences from that speech i.e. someone responding to u - which is very different from censorship FIFTY GRAND Let me ask you something What do you think was accomplished last night DISTANCE DECAY honestly - i just woke up so i don't kno the full extent of what happened, outside of the quick search i made when milo kept being brought up so i think that brings us to our earlier point - antifa destruction of property caused harm to innocent people, milos followers emboldened by his speeches brought harm intentionally to those whose identities they feel have no place FIFTY GRAND Ok I see where we disagree I don't believe that speech is oppressive I used to But I don't anymore He has the right to his speech Which is just about feminism and men's rights , sometimes Islam If you listened to his speeches you'd see it's pretty clear he's just a gay Jew supporting free speech on college campuses DISTANCE DECAY i don't think i said the speech was oppressive however i think that to say it's unequivocally not would be against a very common definition of the word - mental stress or despair - as well as not taking into account the way it can spread and be internalized thru socially learned behaviors - and that humans are creatures of socialization - i think u like psychology so think genie, victor FIFTY GRAND Ok true, I think words can be used as violence, psychologically But I think oppression is more systematic DISTANCE DECAY i think defining our terms is always helpful - i do believe systemic oppression is real and bad - so i think ignoring the psychological aspect would be a disservice to how social organization is formed - given that humans run these systems, learn and reproduce these oppressive values from other humans falls chimed in a lil here -milo and his supporters can arguably represent a cultural shift that has happened in the us in the right-wing (i.e. altright). it's fair to say that this shift is also part of the reason trump was elected, as he was championed by the altright. basically: at what point does this ideology and rhetoric stop being systemic when the elected president is  espousing the same type of rhetoric? isn't that the definition of systemic?

i also believe language plays a huge role in shaping culture tho i am a descriptivist at heart 😋 FIFTY GRAND Not everyone who supports trump is alt-right tho. In fact it's majority rust belt people, poor people who hate the establishment. The alt right is a fringe movement and you're only seeing that because the media is blasting it everywhere And I see you co-signing tweets about me being a victim but you've totally ignored the fact that hella people ARE coming at me And bet you wouldn't even publically denounce me being called a Nazi Ur totally silent there And I find that incredibly problematic If you believe language can shape culture why are you okay with throwing the labels fascist and Nazis round so freely? Because now it just means anyone who disagrees with you Trump was not elected by the alt right Half of America is not the alt right Trust me You're a very smart person, how can you not see the irony in what Antifa is doing? How is it you can bend over backwards to justify it all You know it's only going to get worse People will be harmed Innocent people Every time I tweet on my own platform you see how people react. It is not unfair to assume that I might be subject to violence in the near future But this is the climate you support DISTANCE DECAY 1. i think falls said part of 2. wouldn't that be antithetical to ur argument in free speech ? 3. how far does free speech absolutism go for you? in so far as it hurts your feelings? 4. i think it is a problem when people going throwing these things leading to witch hunts etc, as it is to make generalizations about islam, referring to this as an isolated incident etc. 5. no where do i define it as anyone who disagrees with me - i believe the examples i gave lend itself more to those who are white nationalists 6. half of america may not be alt right but that doesn't change that they champion him nor that bannon is in the white house

i don't believe you are actually a nazi or a fascist, however as much as this might make u go "language police!" i think the language u use is irresponsible - as u have people in ur mentions coming at u i had people in mine from our last convo about islam telling me how muslims do not have a right to exist coming at me - i care about u and i'm sorry i hurt ur feelings - i think maybe there's a lack of linear thinking going on here and i'm having an issue proving my point without indulging in ur methods - which ultimately is antithetical to my own but i'm at a loss for getting it across with my words so i'm trying ur method FIFTY GRAND What language of mine is irresponsible? And what are my methods Lol All I have done is talked Used my words And I'm not understanding the free speech absolutism thing. It's actually your belief that if feelings are hurt we should silence Not mine. It seems very shallow to think that changing language will do anything to rectify deep seated beliefs DISTANCE DECAY ur method of saying and doing whatever u want because "i'm not PC" - whatever that means as i find this is another statement that requires careful unpacking FIFTY GRAND Like, do you think telling people to stop saying faggot on the playground is going to stop homophobia? It will not These are deep rooted issues Speech doesn't even begin to cover And I don't say and do whatever I want to defy all that is PC I simply don't think PC culture is conducive to learning and our democratic way of life DISTANCE DECAY not cover - i don't have all the answers here but again i think language has a huge role in shaping culture - so it is a factor FIFTY GRAND Would you police me for calling myself a tranny? Cuz I do I like that word and I reclaim it DISTANCE DECAY no - again you can say what you want i thought we agreed on this earlier? FIFTY GRAND Did we? Ok DISTANCE DECAY but that doesn't mean that others won't say and do stuff as well maybe not that's why i said thought - are you arguing just to argue at this point? we can stop here maybe have a phone call sometime or go to a library FIFTY GRAND No of course I'm not haha I know it's hard to interpret And yea I'm passionate and a little worked up But I don't feel like I'm tryna argue Just lay down my fundamental beliefs DISTANCE DECAY that's ok - i feel broken honestly FIFTY GRAND Me too, and we both feel very strongly that our way is the right one So there is only so much we can say to one another We will have to agree to disagree and I'm always ok with that I think I should say-- I've been very critical of the left recently which you've noticed, and it's because it's my party and I'm seeing so much division I feel like I'm watching it all fall apart And I want to critique it in hopes that people will hear me out Because I've spent most of my time critiquing the right in the past I feel I need to turn to my own party and say what's going on guys??? Sadly I'm not sure how much I can keep doing it, people want to silence me. And I'm not trying to play victim I'm being as honest as I can be, I really do feel ostracized And sure maybe I am getting in my feels, we all are tho DISTANCE DECAY i think where i myself maybe am confused/take issue is when u publicly tweet these beliefs- there is an objective tone taken, doubled by the calling out others for bias - then you  go back editing/rewording them to something at the end after

example : take the "islam is bad argument" which is how ur words read to me and many others at first- i had a lot of people in ny mentions saying muslims should not exist - after hours u reposted ur thoughts saying using religion to justify horrific acts on people is wrong - which i think better portrays what u we're trying to say and i agree with but was not clearly articulated by the first string of tweets - and after so many with hateful thoughts found their confirmation bias already- and felt empowered and yes i think a lot of this stems from us getting emotional - which is fine we are human which i why i don't understand the triggered thing *in general * not with you and i think it's great to critique the left ! but i think your thoughts don't come clearly out at first - like so personally when u tweeted how is no one critiquing obama on immigration? - my twitter is full of leftist who criticized obama and personally i know of and know those who were deeply affected by ICE etc - again i think it's just the words we use maybe confuse us

FIFTY GRAND Yeah that's totally a fair critique of my tweets, I concede I need to do better DISTANCE DECAY we all do sorry that was so scatter brained the immigration policy under him really hit close to home - and it hit a weird thing bc getting rid of these binary thoughts/looking at life as grey - sad/anxious DT is coming to office but still not wanting to silence those who really suffered as a result under him - i couldn't find the words FIFTY GRAND I tweet my beliefs and I try to engage w those who disagree to a degree but  also I don't wanna reinforce stuff I don't agree with, so I shouldn't act like I'm so diplomatic lol cuz I'm not DISTANCE DECAY yes i feel u - and finding the perfect words in 140 characters or less is very difficult - but given the current climate is so important FIFTY GRAND Right. But at the same time Usually something will upset me so I tweet about it, ppl inevitably disagree and then it helps me, by the end of the "rant" usually my stance changes a little or at least opens itself to others But I start out hella strong And that's probably not the best way Something that upsets me tho is that the narrative seems to be that bc I don't support the violence, that I'm automatically the opposition And thats a rough one to me DISTANCE DECAY i don't have the answers :/ personally vulnerability has been the strongest key for me learning FIFTY GRAND It does make me angry but I think before that it makes me a bit sad and fearful. Anger is just my cover up DISTANCE DECAY i think it reads that way bc you haven't spoken on other issues in a long time - which can lead to confusion or assumption - and granted left is your party this is twitter and people don't kno that

simple explicit statements grounded in reflectivity and reflexivity - subjectivity of language taken in account - is very hard for me :/ FIFTY GRAND Very true This might sound weird but is there any way I can like, transcribe this convo and maybe share it? Cool if not , it definitely sounds odd to ask DISTANCE DECAY and yeah that's fine thank you for asking FIFTY GRAND I won't alter it in any way unless there's something you'd want me to omit. DISTANCE DECAY umm i think it's good to go idk throw me 2 the lions *joke* ^^ FIFTY GRAND 😂