#and I was rotting in front of my laptop all day switching between listening to christmas music and watching 911 ugh

[buckera]

I wanted to finish the puppy fic today but instead I started a new wip... it's just that I'm at the smutty bit and that's the part where I need to know what I wanna write before I do it and I'm kinda drawing a blank (or more precisely I didn't have enough time to be at peace and alone to figure it out yet)

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 41

WARNINGS: Dark Tyler.  Angsty Tyler,  I suppose.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thorsbathroomchicken​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

The storage facility lies on the outskirts of town; in the middle of a derelict portion of an industrial complex.  Abandoned warehouses flanking it to both the east and west, long abandoned train tracks to the north and a sewage treatment plant to the south.  Weeds manage to thrive within the chips and cracks of old concrete,  litter caught up in the rusted metal of a chain link fence. There hasn't been true signs of life in these parts for years; the factories that were still thriving were more than a kilometre, and no one aside from those wanting to take belongings out of their lockers ever visited the area.  The sense and appearance of abandonment and neglect adding something dark and dreary to an already sinister plan

He's the last to arrive; parking the SUV among the small group of vehicles already gathered by the front gate.  The security system for the facility had long ago been vandalized; someone had broken into the security system and stolen all the intricate parts, rendering the keypad useless. All that exists now are loose wires and scattered bits of metal,  the gate permanently left open for anyone...whether it be thief or transient...to gain access.  He kills the ignition and checks his phone; reading through unopened text messages, the engine softly ticking as is it cools. Letting his wife know that he'd arrived safe and sound at his first destination, but not giving any details.

The less she knows the better; some things are better left unspoken, some plans better left just between the people actually getting their hands dirty.  All his resolve is gone. All his patience shredded. Any and all mercy has ceased to exist. He's at peace with his decision; resolved, determined, calm.  With not even the slightest bit of hesitation or an inkling of remorse haunting him.   And he tells himself that this could have been avoided had McMann not crossed that line.  If he'd simply had the balls to go right to the source of his issues instead of taking a coward's way out. This is on him now. Whatever happens...whatever plan begins to unravel...the moment Tyler steps up of the car, it is a fate that the other man has brought onto himself.  No one will find him out here.  No one will be able to hear the suffering, the begging, the pleading. No one will be able to come to his aid. And in the end, when he finally thinks it's over and he's about to be shown mercy, he'll be handed over to begin another nightmare all in itself.

He sends her a second message. Telling her that he loves her. Reassuring her that everything is going to be okay.  That he'll message her once the second part of that day's mission is done and McMann has been taken care up; holed up somewhere under lock and key, where he'll be kept until the IRA has made up their mind.  And he adds : 'I'll see you when I see you', the exact words he's used for the past four years every time he abandons her and their children to go and solve someone else's problems.  

“What do you think?”  Yaz asks, when Tyler joins him at the front gate.  

He'd been there for an hour now, arranging things exactly as had been requested. Their own surveillance feed that they can view from their cell phones or their laptops; cameras placed at the front gate, the doorway of the unit Tyler had rented using a fake name and stolen credit card, and three within the actual storage locker itself. There'd be eyes and ears on McMann twenty four hours a day; no one aside from those who knew of the storage locker and the plans for it would be going in or out. The situation would be controlled. Monitored. Right down to the very second.  And if he somehow managed to get away and make a run for it, he wouldn't get far; Yaz would be installing an ankle monitor the moment McMann arrived on site.

“I think it's perfect,” he replies, as they fall in step alongside of each other and pass through the gate.  Dirt and gravel crackling under the soles of his combat boots; kicking away any wayward rubbish that lies in his path. The storm the night before had brought the humidity; sweat glistens on his brow and trickles down his temples; the back of his t-shirt already damp.

“Esme's okay?”

“She's sick. Can't keep anything down. Not even water.”

“The baby or...?”

“Could be the baby. Could be stress. Could be nerves. She's been sick before; with all the others. But nothing this bad.”

“A sign maybe? That something is wrong? With the baby?”

Tyler frowns. “Why  the fuck would you even say that?”

“I'm not saying that there is something wrong. And I'm not wishing or hoping there is. I'm just saying that...fuck...I don't even know what I'm saying.”  He's nervous. Despite all the jobs that he's assisted with, all the perilous and high stakes situations he's been in, the nerves have been rubbed raw. This is a first for him. When they'll actually be inflicting the damage instead of trying to end it.

“she's fine,” Tyler says, more an attempt to reassure himself than Yaz. “The baby's fine. She's just freaking out. She's thousands of miles away from home. From her kids. She's worried about them, worried about Ovi and Chloe, worried about me. This fucking sucks, mate. That she has to go through all of this. Especially now. This should be a happy time. We just found out we're having a baby. We should be ecstatic. And instead we're dealing with this bullshit.  She deserves better than this. So does that baby.”

“Well at least we can kind of see the finish line now,”  Yaz reasons. “We're a hell of a lot closer than we were two days ago, that's for sure. Heard anything from the IRA yet?”

“Flynn said it would be two days at the earliest, four at the latest. I don't expect to hear anything from them for a while.”

The air inside the storage building is stifling; humidity hanging heavily. The air conditioning unit is ancient and had long ago stopped working, and the owners of the facility seemed to be in no hurry to fix it.  A foul stench lingers in the air; a mixture of rotting garbage in the bins outside,  pollution from the factories and the mills only a kilometre away, and the tell tale odour of mould and mildew. Not the most pleasant, but after wading through that sewer in Dhaka and having to wait there for more than hour for Gaspar to pick them up, smells rarely bother Tyler anymore.  But he notices the way Yaz scrunches up his nose; a scowl appearing on his face before he begins to cough and gag.

“What if they don't agree to this?” Yaz asks. “What if this is all for nothing?”

“Even if they do say no, it won't be for nothing. Trust me.”

“How long will you keep him here? If they don't want him.  How long does he have before...you know...”

“I'll kill him when I'm good and ready. And I will. Kill him. If they don't.”  

He's calm as he says it. Matter of fact. There's no hesitation. He'd made the decision on the drive over. If the IRA didn't want McMann, then he'd take care of the problem himself. But not before the other man was taught a very valuable lesson. It's the first time he hasn't experienced even the slightest bit of remorse or guilt over the thought of taking another life.  Killing had never been about satisfaction or pleasure. He's killed because he's had to. Because his own survival came down to it. He's never been proud of the reputation. Or the body count. But this is different.

This is personal.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Yaz asks, as motions towards the last door on the left.  Garage style; black aluminum that rolls up into the ceiling. He'd rented the largest one possible; so whoever was in charge of watching McMann during set shifts would have a place to eat and rest.  There'd be a team of four, switching out every six hours.  And always a set off eyes on either laptop or cell phone.

“It's what I need to do,”  Tyler replies. “For my wife. For my kids.”

“Do you think she'd really want this, Tyler? If she knew exactly what you were up to? You think she'd want to know what you're capable of?”

“She already knows that, mate. She saw what I was capable of five and a half years ago in Dhaka. She knows who I am. She knows what I do.”

“But this? This goes above and beyond what she saw. What she knows. Do you really think she'd want to know about this? About what kind of man you can be?”

“No,” he admits. “Probably not. She'd probably hate me. Or be scared of me She'd probably never trust me again. Maybe she'd even leave me and take my kids.”

It's the bitter and hard truth of the situation; in the middle of trying to protect and avenge his family, he could in fact end up losing them.  But she'd understand. If she'd listen to him long enough. If she gave him a chance to explain, she would realize that he'd done it for her. For their kids. To protect the only things that truly mattered in his life. She'd saved him. Given him a second chance. And McMann had threatened that. To take away the one person that he had held on for.  

And he deserved to pay for it.

“Then why do it?”  Yaz asks.  “Why risk it? Why risk losing everything over one person?”

“Because,” he replies, and steps over the threshold of the storage unit. “He fucked with the wrong man's family.”

***

“Things are coming together,” Mark says, his hands on his hips as he watches two of his Marines -Nathan and Zak- secure the last two cameras; one above the door, the other in the middle of the room to the left, three inches from the ceiling.  The remaining member of his team has been assigned to stay behind at the hotel, ordered to stay glued to Esme's hip at all times until Tyler's returned from the his meeting with McMann.  “Not too shabby for a couple of jar heads, huh?  They're determined to get shit done, that's for sure.”

“It all gonna be ready for when he gets here?” Tyler asks. He doesn't want to leave any stone unturned. Not even the simplest of details can be overlooked. There is no room for error.  And even the smallest mistake could spell disaster.

“Should be. Come check this out...”

There's a crude metal chair in the middle of the room; a sack made from heavy black fabric that will be used to cover McMann's head and a package of zip ties sitting on the seat.  But it's  meal table pushed against the far wall that Mark leads him too. A wide selection of knives and handguns nearly arranged on top of it, along with the lesser used tools of the trade.

“We've got the usual,” Mark says, as he nods down at the objects on display. “Standard run of the mill shit. But these...” he takes two steps sideways.  “...this is where the real nasty stuff is. The ones that can really pack a punch. We've got a couple of tasers, a few box cutters, a ball-peen hammer, crowbar. Even a couple pairs of pliers. You know, for the little jobs and small spaces you need to get into.”

Tyler picks up a handsaw; inspecting the edges, the handle, the sharpness of the blade.

“That was my personal addition,” Mark says. “Right from my own collection. She's seen some dirty jobs, if you know what I mean. Hasn't let me down yet.”

Tyler smirks. “You do this kind of shit often?”

“Things used to get a little wild in Iraq. We used to have to resort to some pretty extreme things when dealing with the terrorists. Especially the ones we caught that were guilty of doing unspeakable shit to women and kids. You know, the kind that needs to meet the karma bus head on. I'm sure you saw some things in the Middle East.”

Tyler nods. His final three tours with the Australian army had been spent in Kandahar. He'd seen first hand what the Taliban had been capable of doing to women and children. He'd been on night patrol when his platoon had managed to capture a man known to be a serial rapist and pedophile. It's where he'd seen and learned the most savage of tricks in his playbook.  Committing every act of depravity his commanding officer had inflicted upon that Iraqi to his memory.  He had hoped that he'd never have to use any of those things; that a gun, knife, or fist would be the only weapons he'd have to rely on while on the job.  But now the inevitable is right there in front of him. And instead of horror and disgust, he feels nothing.  

He has nothing left to give. The job has taken it all. Every ounce of compassion and humanity that he'd ever possessed.

“You don't have to do this,” Mark says. “I know why you're doing it. And I get why you feel like it has to be done. But you don't need to do it, Tyler.”

“Yeah...” he picks up one of the box cutters and clicks open the blade.  “...I do.”

“Once you cross that line, you can't come back. You realize that, don't you? Once you go from killing out of necessity to killing for sport...for revenge...you'll never be the same.  Once we become that monster that's been living inside of us for years...for decades...that monster never goes away.  That monster is going to live with you for the rest of your life.”

“If that's the way it has to be...” he shrugs as his voice trails off.

“Kid, listen to me. I've been in this type of situation before. I've had to resort to some pretty sick and twisted shit to get things I needed. To teach someone a lesson.  And it fucks with you. It does something to you. Up here...” he taps the tip of his index fingers against his temple. “...it changes you. To the point you won't even recognize yourself. You're going wake up one morning and you're going to look in the mirror and not even know who the fuck you are anymore. Is that really what you want? To become some former version of yourself? And I'm not just talking about what it's going to do to you. I'm talking about what it's going to do to Esme. To see you like that. To not even know who you are anymore. Is that really want you want?”

“I'm not the same man I was when we first met. That man died that day on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. Five and half years ago that man died and this is who was left behind. Do you think that was fair to her? That she had to see that? That she had to sit there while I was dying in her arms?  That she stayed behind just to save my life? She gave up everything that day. She was never the same. Neither of us were.”

“She stayed because she wanted to be with you. Because she was in love with you. When Esme loves, she loves hard. With everything she's got. Do you really think she sees you the way you see yourself? You think you died that day. She thinks she saved you. She thinks she's the one that kept you hanging on.”

“She was,” he admits. “She's the only reason I did hang on.”

“She doesn't see you any differently now than she did back then. You're the same Tyler in her eyes. She doesn't look at you and see someone damaged and broken. She just sees you. That's it But this? What you're going to do here? That will change you. You will become a different person. And not a better one. Is that what you really want for her? Do you want her to look at you one day and not know who the fuck you are anymore? Because this is going to haunt you. This is going to eat at you. And she's going to be the one that pays the ultimate price.”

Tyler nods, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It's a nervous habit. Or one he resorts to when emotion is beginning to overwhelm him. He won't be able to keep it a secret forever. He knows that. But if he can hold it together just long enough to be victorious over his own monsters and his own demons, he can spare her the knowledge of just who he is and what he's capable of.  If he can keep the secret just long enough...to the point where it doesn't eat him alive from the inside out...everything will be okay.

They'd be okay.

“You've got this amazing thing going  on,” Mark continues. “You've got a wife, four kids, one on the way. Why would you want to fuck that up?”

“I don't,” he clears his throat noisily. “That's the last thing I want.”

“Think about those kids, Tyler. Your kids. You won't be the person they know right now. You won't be the same dad you are this very second.  Is that really what you want? They're just babies still. The oldest is only five. Five! And you're going to go back to those kids and slowly you're going to become a different person. Right in front of them. Think about what that's going to do to them. When daddy suddenly isn't daddy anymore. For fuck sakes. Tyler. You do not have to  do this.”

“Yes. I do,” he insists.  “They deserve this.”

“The fuck they do. Look, I get it. You're pissed. McMann fucked with the wrong guy.  He never should have went after your family. But they're safe. You took care of things. You found out before it got any further. You got your kids out. You got Ovi and the girl out. You protected them. Now they're safe and that's all that matters. What is this going to do? You doing this? Other than fuck you up?”

“He needs to be taught a lesson. I warned him. Before I even got on that plane to come here. I told him that if I found out he was fucking with me and going after my family, I'd make him sorry. And that's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to make him sorry. He's going to pay. I'm going to teach him a very valuable lesson. For as long and as painfully as I can.”

“But why? Why the fuck do you need to do that? Jesus Christ, Tyler. Do you realize what you sound like? Do you realize who you sound like?  You sound just like those crazy fucks that you have to rescue people from. This is the kind of shit those people do. What guys like Mahajan and Asif did to people. When did you cross that line? When did you stop being the hero and start being one of them?”

“Let's get one thing straight...”  Tyler's voice is low, menacing, as he turns to face Mark.  “...I've never been a hero. I've never claimed to be one. I never wanted to be one.  I help people because it's my job. I go in there, I get shit done, I get paid. That's it.  I don't do it to be a fucking hero.”

“But you're still one of the good guys. You still go in and help people. This? This is not helping people. This is far from it. You don't kill because you like it. You kill because you have to. To save yourself. To save your mark. But this is intentional, Tyler. You have this all planned and all thought out and you're acting like it's no big deal. That it's just a normal day for you. This is not normal!”

“He needs to pay,”  Tyler growls.  “He needs to pay for going anywhere near my kids. For taking me away from them. For bringing my wife into this fucking mess. And I'm going to make him pay. And there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

“I could tell Nik.”

Tyler gives a dry laugh. “What the fuck is she going to do? She has nothing to with this. This all me. I'm in charge here. So go. Run off to her and tell her. I don't give a shit. She can't stop me either.”

“I'll tell Esme, then.”

Tyler's eyes narrowed. “Don't do that. Don't bring her into this.  That's fucking low and you know it. Using her against me? Using my own wife as a weapon?”

“She's the only one that can stop you from fucking your whole life up.  She saved you once. Let her save you again.”

“I don't need saving. I need revenge. I want him to pay. For what he did to my family. For what he's put them through. What he's put her through. She deserves that. She deserves revenge.”

“She doesn't want revenge, Tyler. She want her husband. She wants the father of her kids. As he is now. Now what he's going to become if he goes through with this. She wants a normal life. With you. And that won't happen if you do this.  This has gone far enough. You're going to hand McMann over and he can be the IRA's problem.”

“And if they don't want him? What then?”

“Then you kill him. Nice and clean. None of this shit.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “That's not enough. That's not nearly enough.”

“This is fucking insane and you know it. You're unhinged. You need to get your shit together. You need to get your fucking head on straight. Forget about this. You don't need to do this. Because I will tell her. I'm not bullshitting. I will call her right now. Is that what you want? You want me to call her right now and let her know where you are and what you're up to?”

Tyler's eyes narrow, his nostrils flare. “Don't do this.”

“Fuck this,” Mark removes his cell phone from pocket of his hoodie. “If you're not going to back down and get your shit together, I'll let her handle this. She's pretty good at reining you, right? She's gotten used to having to keep you under control.”

“Don't do this,”  Tyler repeats. “Don't fucking do this.”

“You did this. You did this, Rake. And if you're not going to save yourself, maybe she can.”

He only manages to get the screen turned on and the first number pushed, Tyler's elbow slamming into his face and sending him sprawling backwards into the floor.  And there's a clamour as chaos erupts within the storage unit; the two Marines quickly bolting to their boss' side; ladders toppling over with a crash.

“Rake... you fucking asshole!” Mark bellows, as he struggles to his feet, a hand clutching his broken and bloody nose. “...what the hell is wrong with you? Are you fucking crazy?!”

“You should have just stayed the fuck away!” Tyler roars. “You should have stayed away from her. You never should have showed up at my house. You have no right. You have no fucking right being anywhere near her!”

“Is that really what this is about? Is that what you just did what you did? Because you're jealous.”

“I'm jealous?! What the fuck do I have to be jealous of. She left you, remember? She got tired of your shit and she left. Do you buddies know what you did? Do they know how you treated her? Huh? Did you tell them any of that? Or did you just make her out to be the bad person?”

“You're going to resort to that? You're going to resort to bringing that shit up? Are you that fucking desperate?”

“Did he tell you?”  Tyler asks the Marines.  “Did he? Did he tell you that my wife is his ex wife? Did he tell you why she left him? Did he tell you about how he got a blow job from a stewardess coming back from his honeymoon? I bet he didn't tell you that.”

“You're really going to do this?” Mark rages. “You're really going to bring this up?  It's none of your fucking business!”

“She's my fucking business! She's my wife. That makes her my business. I bet you didn't tell them that you liked to beat on her. That at first you started hitting her where she could hid the bruises with clothes. But then after awhile you just didn't give a fuck anymore and you'd give her black eyes, split lips, bloody noses.  How about the two times you put her in the hospital? Do you blokes now about that? Well if you didn't, you sure as fuck do now.”

“Whoa...whoa...” Yaz finally appears from the corridor, having been caught up organizing and setting up any remaining technology.  “What the hell is going on here?”

“He's fucking crazy,” Mark nods in Tyler's direction. “That's what's going on here.”

“I'm just letting these guy know what an upstanding citizen their boss is,”  Tyler explains.  “You know, the kind that likes to beat on women. The kind that likes to cheat on them. The kind that's a narcissistic dick bag that gas lighted her into thinking she was the problem, That she wasn't good enough. That she'd never be good enough.  Or how about how he blamed her for losing a baby the doctor said never would have been viable in the first place.”

Mark's eyes narrow.  “How'd you...”

“You fucking dumb ass. Did you really think I wouldn't ask her when you told me about the baby she lost? Did you honestly think I wouldn't want to know? Because I knew it couldn't be a problem with her because we have four kids. I've never had a problem getting her pregnant. And all those kids arrived safe and sound.  No issues whatsoever. She showed me the pathology report.  It was a severe abnormality passed down through the y gene. Meaning you, asshole.  It came from you. And you still fucking blamed her. You still made her think it was her goddamn fault.  How fucking sick do you have to be to do that your own wife? When she's already upset that she lost a baby in the first place?!”

“Okay...okay...” Yaz claps a hand down on Tyler's shoulder. “...this is private stuff, man. This doesn't need to be brought up. No one needs to hear this.”

“He needs to hear it,” Tyler nods in Mark's direction.  “Because he's been playing these fucking games for ten years now. Ten years she's held all that shit inside of her. Thinking she isn't good enough. Being told no one would ever love her because of how messed up she was. Do you remembering telling her that? Don't deny it. Don't stand here and lie to my face. Be a man. For once. Be a man and admit it. Own it. That you fucked with her head. That you made her think she'd never find anyone better than you. That's what you told her, right?”

“I admit it. I said some...things...”

“Yeah, you did. You sure fucking did, mate. You fucking broke her.  And you know what, I came along and I helped put her back together. All those things you told her? About how no one would ever love her? I proved you wrong.  I came along and I loved her. With everything I fucking have. Everything I am. I made her forget about you and you can't fucking stand it.”

“She's way too good for you.” Mark gives a dry laugh.  “And one day she's going to wake up and wonder why the hell she wasted so many years of her life with you.”

“You keep telling yourself that, mate. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Because guess what? While you're sleeping alone? I'm sleeping next to her. With her.  And you can't fucking stand the thought of it.”

“Enough!” Yaz snaps. “Both of you! Enough is enough. Now I get there's some issues. Between the two of you. I get shit is messy. Mark, you crossed a fucking line by ever showing up at Tyler's house looking for Esme. You went there to try and cause shit between them and it blew up in your face and you can't handle that.  Tyler and Esme are tight. Their bond? You can't break that shit. No one can. Now, we need to all work together here. We need to get this asshole and make him pay. Can't we all agree on that? That McMann needs to go down for all the shit he's pulled? Right?” he stares pointedly at Tyler. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Right?” he turns his gaze to Mark and the two marines, all three nodding in confirmation.   “For fuck sakes, this is not the time for shit to be falling apart. We're all working towards a common goal here. You three have your reasons for wanting McMann to suffer, and Tyler has his reasons. And it doesn't matter if I agree with how Tyler is going about things. What he does when he's left here with McMann is his business. Just like I won't give a shit what you guys to do him.  But this is my boy...”  he claps Tyler on the back of his neck. “...this is my brother. This stupid fuck...this ugly face...has been through more shit than the three of you together. And you know what? His stubborn ass just keeps getting back up.  I saw this guy near death. Like right on its fucking doorstep. And he made death his bitch. So if you've got a problem with him, you've got a problem with me. And my sister. And our entire team.”

“We have no issues with him,” Nathan speaks up. “With either of you.”

Zak shrugs. “I've got no problems.”

“So it just you,” Yaz smirks at Mark. “Time to let shit go, man. She's not yours anymore. She's his. And he's not letting her go. Deal with.”

Mark gives a snort, then turns on his heel to stomp from the room, purposefully bumping Tyler's shoulder with his on the way out.

“What a drama queen,”  Yaz shakes his head. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to knock him the fuck out?  You know I wanted to see that. You know I wanted ringside seats! The fuck is wrong with you? Doing me like that?”

“Next time I'll let you know. So we can watch.  Hey about what you said...”

“I said what I said. Don't go getting all little wuss bitch baby on me.”

Tyler grins. “Actually, I was going to ask if you really think my face is ugly.”

Yaz smirks. “You know you're my boy crush. Now quit riding my jock and get the fuck out of here.  Go and see your wife. Spend some time with her before you go and meet McMann. You both need it. That time.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods.  “We do.”

“And I'd say wrap it before you tap it but you've proven time and time again you don't know what  that means, so...”

“You're a real fucking dick, Yaz,” he laughs as he heads for the door.

“Maybe. But you love me. And you'd miss me if I was gone.  Admit it, Tyler! You'd miss me!”   He frowns when he receives a smirk and the middle finger in response. “Why you do me like that? Why you do your boy like that?”

He receives no answer. Just the sound of the soles of combat boots as they disappear down the hall.

[disinvited-guest]

12/31/2018 Philadelphia Recap

The wait for this show was absolutely wonderful, as I got to reunite with old concert-going pals (in case you were wondering, @monopuffstan and @integrityproject remain as wonderful as ever) and meet several new ones.  Even if the concert hadn’t been absolutely wonderful, hanging out with all of these awesome folks would almost have been worth the trip itself.  

We had a wonderful, if cold and soggy, wait.  Flans walked right through our line to get to the venue with a polite “excuse me.”  I happened to be one of the people in his way and I shuffled to the side, mortified.

Once we got inside, things became a bit less jovial.  I did not get along with the people to my right, who were more than a little drunk. I’m not going to include their antics in the recap, but they did have a negative effect on how much I could hear and see of what was going on onstage.  Reminder:  there is a bootleg of this show floating around, so you can listen to what I missed.

JoCo came onstage at 9:20 sharp  wearing a tuxedo with a very stylish bow-tie.  After playing Artificial Heart, he commented faux-disapprovingly on what the crowd was wearing “I thought this was a party!”  He told us he had never played a show in a tux before and was worried for two reasons:  that it would restrict his range of motion, and that he would sweat through it in 5 minutes.

He played Shop Vac, then mopped his face with a towel and warned us that it was happening.  Someone shouted at him that he should take off his suit, and he responded that there was “nothing underneath.”

The crowd cheered at this, but JoCo responded that we were cheering now, but “after, you’d be disgusted” and that he’d be all over the internet the next day as a “weird asshole.”  

Introducing Future Soon, he told us that instead of looking back on 2018 we should look forward into the Future.  Afterwards, he took of his bowtie, warning the crowd that this was “As far as I’ll go.”  He introduced the next song as being about getting old and being sad about being old “but that’s okay,” which led into Glasses.

“I have a new album,” he told us after the song ended, “It’s called Solid State and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.” When the crowd cheered in response, he gave a world-weary sigh and continued in a grudging voice. “Of course we need a concept album about sci-fi.”  He sighed again, then added “And how the internet kind of sucks now.”  Another sigh “And how technology will either destroy us or save us.  One last huge sigh and then “And I’m sorry, but there’s a companion graphic novel.”  With the crowd cheering counterpoint to each on of his sighs, it was truly hilarious.

While messing with the laptop he had onstage, JoCo told us that “The album makes a lot of bleep bloop sounds.  This is just a normal acoustic guitar.  It doesn’t make bleep bloop sounds, so I brought out this.  This is a computer.”

The computer made excellent bleep bloop sounds as JoCo played All This Time.  Putting his guitar down after the song was over, JoCo picked up the machine with knobs and buttons all over it (If you haven’t seen him play Fancy Pants on this thing, my description isn’t going to do it justice. I’m begging you to look it up on YouTube.)  He warned us that on this machine “Even when I’m well-rehearsed, I’m barely hanging on.”

He immediately put the lie to his words by showing off a bit of what the machine was programmed for.  He then explained the song, verse by verse, before actually going into the song.  I was unprepared for just how glorious it was.  He added a bit of Auld Lang Syne into it, singing along a bit before declaring that no one knew the words anyway, and a bit of Single Ladies, and topped it all off by having the machine tell us “Gonna be the best in everybody’s pants.”

After returning to his guitar, JoCo brought up his wife, which got a cheer from a few people in the crowd.  “Some fans of my wife here,” he said, bemused, before moving on with his story.  

Apparently, before he met his wife, she wanted a tattoo, but didn’t have a particular one in mind.  “Which I later learned was typical of her, to have a goal in mind without considering the steps in between.”  She looked through the books in the parlor, “like

at a barbershop” JoCo explained to us, and picked out one she liked.  She got the tattoo, but regretted it.  Once he and his wife had started dating- “and I had an opportunity to see it,”  he added in wickedly, getting a cheer from the crowd-  he asked her about it and she grumbled that it was stupid, and she had just wanted the idea of a tattoo.  Recently though, his wife went in again and got quotes put around the tattoo, so now it is actually a tattoo of the idea of a tattoo.  All this talk of tattoos led, of course, into the song Your Tattoo.

JoCo mentioned that They Might Be Giants would be on his cruise, but that it was too late to buy tickets because it was sold out.  He told us it was a missed opportunity and that we should have followed his blog.  He then introduced the next song, I Feel Fantastic as a “song about how you’ve all made me feel tonight, but it’s also about being on drugs.”

Afterwards, he left the stage as we cheered.  After a few seconds, Flans came onstage, a scrap of paper in his hand.  The crowd’s cheering greatly increased.  He came up to the mic and announced “The owner of a blue Dodge Neon double-parked in front of the venue. Move your car or you will be towed.” The paper in his hand did say something about the car, so I have no doubt it was there, but somehow the context made it hilarious.  Having gotten all car-related news out of the way, Flans announced “Jonathan Coulton, everybody!” leaving stage as we cheered JoCo back on.  

JoCo thanked everyone, then had us practice our “part” for Re: Your Brains.  The first time around was too good.  He explained “Zombies get distracted.  They can only think about how much they want brains.  Some weren’t good singers to start with and rotting doesn’t help.”  Our next attempt was much better/worse, so he started into the song.  Afterwards, he thanked everyone once more and left the stage.

Immediately, that same stage was swarmed by the crew.  I got a glimpse of Fresh’s socks, which were full-color prints of a basketball player in the middle of a slam-dunk.  There was no riser for Curt, confirming that he wasn’t there.

The intro music came on quickly, followed by the band.  There was very little banter at this show.  I think they were worried about what point in the show they would take their break for midnight.  They played their first several songs without pause, starting out with The Communists Have The Music, then Twisting and I got a mouthed  “hi!” and a smile from Danny.  During Why Does the Sun Shine, Linnell told us that everything on the sun was a gas “copper, things that aren’t gas, iron, and even gas.”  He told us he was doing a voice so that “the tone of voice makes you think I’m condescending and impatient.”

They played Birdhouse in Your Soul, then went into Particle Man pausing only long enough for Linnell to grab his accordion.  He didn’t add another song into the interlude, simply switching into a minor key for a description of triangle man.  During the Famous Polka, Dan and Linnell executed a wonderfully in-synch kick (though not nearly as high as the Flans kick photo that’s been going around from that evening).  The audience all contributed to the song, chiming in with a fair imitation of the “doop-doop”s the bridge has in the recorded version.  It was one of those crazy-beautiful moments of serendipity you only get at tmbg shows.

After Famous Polka ended, they had the first banter of the evening.  Discussing his day, Flans told us all a story about his stop at a Popeyes next to a museum he had visited.  At the Popeyes, he was waiting next to two women and a man speaking “not-from-this-country” Italian.  He then pointed out to the guy that Popeyes! also spells ‘Pope yes!’ and the group found it hilarious (after the guy translated the joke to his companions).  Flans felt like it was a great start to the the year, and was about to say more but broke off to add to his story.  Apparently one of the women “the only English word she knew was ‘leg’” had done the Pope blessing thing with a chicken leg.  Flans demonstrated the motion to us, then said that in the new year he wanted “less of this-” miming pushing something away, “and more of this-” repeating the chicken-leg blessing.

Linnell decided that there were “little dramas like that going on at every stop on the turnpike.”  He decided that at the Molly Pitcher stop they were chanting “We want a pitcher not a chicken-leg itcher”  This prompted them both to start listing stops on the turnpike, some real and some decidedly not.  Eventually, they decided they were losing the crowd with all of their outdated references.  Flans asked Linnell if he was still jetlagged.  Linnell responded that he was, then explained to us that he was still on Scotland time, where “it is very late at night right now.”

“That’s what this next song is about!” and they started into Memo to Human Resources.  I was so excited that it took me a few lines to calm down enough to actually pay attention to the song.  I’d been chasing it all year and honestly thought I’d never hear it live.

Flans introduced the next song quickly “We have a new album out.  It’s called I Like Fun and this is I Left My Body.”  From there they went straight into Science is Real.  It was the first time I’d seen them play it without Flans using a cheat-sheet for the lyrics, and he did mumble a few of the words he forgot.

I believe it was here Linnell brought up Clara Barton as another potential stop on the turnpike, and both Johns began asking the crowd about the nature of the stops; if there were criteria for naming them, if there was a list of stops, etc.  

Eventually, Flans introduced Dan Miller on the keyboards “anything is possible!”  Dan extended his index finger like he was going to play a note, then pulled it back, shaking his head.  Danny watched the whole process with extreme interest.

“Don’t mess with those dials.” Flans told Dan.

They played Let’s Get This Over With and Doctor Worm, during which Flans was a bit distracted, looking of stage a lot, and even heading off once or twice.  During the Doctor Worm solo, Danny had to cover a bit of his part.  

Flans came back downstage and they played Robot Parade, starting slow and gradually becoming more and more rocking.  Flans attempted a human theremin during this song.  He gave the audience 15 seconds “for people who know what a theremin is to explain to people who don’t know what a theremin is.”  He then counted down the 15 seconds.  I’m not sure how much explaining was done, as a large portion of the crowd counted down the 15 seconds with him. He then gave a brief explanation and began.  It didn’t work super well and he wrapped things up quickly, but it was fun to be a part of.

Next up was a quick introduction to Trouble Awful Devil Evil, and it was also when my asthma started acting up.  I used my inhaler and when I refocused on the stage Danny was watching, presumably to make sure I was okay.    After Linnell put down his little clarinet for Trouble Awful Devil Evil, Flans briefly introduced him on the Contra Alto Clarinet before they played All Time What.  

Flans had Dan play a note on his guitar to show off the synthesizer, which Linnell claimed could “make a guitar sound like any instrument.”  Dan made a face and Flans amended “Well, any instrument purchased at a Radio Shack.”

They played We Want a Rock, then went straight into Bills Bills Bills.  During the start of the song, Dan posed next to Danny, guitar held at a precise angle, foot tapping.  He then nudged Danny and demonstrated the pose for him until Danny copied the pose and played that way together for a few bars.

Afterwards, Flans told us that the count-offs for the evening were “provided by Al Gore.”  He then proceeded to explain to us that they had seen other bands start without count offs and had been really impressed, but then “we switched and no one noticed.”

“Until now,” Linnell told him.

The two debated whether or not it was too technical for the audience to understand, but then Flans decided we were pretty smart “Three-fourths of them knew what a theremin was,” and they played Letterbox.  

They moved from Letterbox into Spy.  The ending was as fascinating as always, with Flans and Linnell each adding their bit, but rather than actually ending the song, they simply transitioned straight into Dan’s intro to Istanbul.  It was great to see the song getting the full Dan Miller treatment once again.  He was truly amazing.  At one point, he was playing one-handed, just plucking at the frets, at another point, he pointed to the crowd for a cheer before continuing on.  He even attempted to trick the rest of the band into thinking he was wrapping things up (they all got ready to start) before continuing on for another several seconds.  The whole thing was glorious.

During the song itself, Danny gave me a goofy look, and I snorted in response, then immediately covered my nose, embarrassed. Danny cracked up laughing and walked away.  During one of the fake endings, in the space where Dan and Curt had ‘battled’ in other 2018 shows, Dan and Danny did the same for a bit, switching off for a few lines, which was amazing.

As the song was wrapping up, Flans went around getting everyone's attention and wiggling his outstretched fingers at them.  This marked their departure from the setlists and led, accurately and amusingly, into Fingertips.

During I’m Having A Heart Attack, Flans did his boy band bit, but instead of facing the audience for it, addressed off stage right, where I had noticed Robin hanging out in the wings earlier.  I don’t know if she was still there, so I’m not sure if it was intentional or not.  

Dan did the first of the two whispered “Fingertips” without incident, but as he was about to repeat himself, a guy in the crowd shouted “Fingertips!” in the near-silent room.  Dan pointed in his direction and steps back from the mic and the band moved on to I Walk Along Darkened Corridors.

They went straight into The Guitar from there.  Trying to get close enough to midnight, they ended it with a big solo for Danny which was absolutely amazing!  Danny never gets enough time to shine in my personal but admittedly biased opinion and this was an amazing chance to see all that he could do.  Dan and Linnell stood next to each other behind the keyboard to watch Danny.  Dan looked over to Marty, keeping time on his set, and motioned to him that he stunk, pinching his nose and grinning.  Marty must have responded with a worried look because Dan immediately waved it off and gave him a thumbs up.  Linnell did the double point to his eyes and then to Marty in an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.  

Danny’s solo was truly amazing, it was well over a minute in length and just when you thought it couldn’t get more awesome, it did.  The whole thing was made even more interesting by the fact that, since it was somewhat to stall for time until midnight, every so often Danny would glance over at Flans to check how much longer he wanted him to keep going.  Eventually, they wrapped up the song and a sweat soaked Danny accepted a new water bottle from Fresh while toweling off his face.

There was still more than a minute before midnight when The Guitar wrapped up.  Linnell decided we should “take a moment to remember the people in the crowd we lost along the way.”  The Johns went back and forth on this idea for a while, with Flans mourning “the people who were brought by their friends and are never coming again.”

Eventually they brought up a projection that had instructions for counting down, screaming for 2019, the words to Auld Lang Syne, etc.  The countdown was started at 15 seconds to midnight, but the crowd started out too slow, and in trying to catch up began counting too fast.  We overshot our goal and began celebrating the New Year a second or two too early.  They played Auld Lang Syne into an absolute explosion of confetti as things onstage devolved into an absolutely beautiful chaos.  Fresh, who was helping the confetti tech load the cannon, was eventually pushed out of the process by an incredibly enthusiastic Flans, who loaded the cannon at double speed and moved it back and forth so it would hit everybody.  The confetti got absolutely everywhere, covering the stage and the crowd for the rest of the show.  

Onstage was an absolute hugfest.  Danny hugged Dan, then went over behind the drum riser to hug Marty.  Fresh got a hug from Marty then ran offstage pumping his arms like he’d just won a prize.  Dan lifted Marty off of his feet while hugging him.  There was evidently champagne offstage as someone later set the bottle on an amp.  Flans chugged some directly from the bottle.

As the last of the confetti settled, Flans took the fan that was set up onstage and began using it to clear off some of layer of confetti coating absolutely everything, making a joke about needing a clear stage.  Danny scooped up big handfuls and ran around throwing them over people in the crowd.  At one point, Marty saw him at it and asked why he hadn’t thrown any confetti over his head.  Danny eventually obliged, although he waited until the encore when Marty wasn’t expecting it.  Linnell had the opposite problem, seeing Danny carrying a handful of confetti and worrying it was meant for him.  Danny saw his worried expression and indicated it was meant for the crowd and Linnell relaxed.  The crowd itself was also throwing big crumpled handfuls of the stuff, which packed a bit more of a punch than the drifting flakes, and just about everyone, onstage and in the crowd, got hit by one of the clumps.

Eventually, Flans brought the show back into motion.  He thanked the band, the crew, and the crowd then told us they had a few more songs.  They played Dead, a poignant counterpoint to the beautiful insanity preceding it, with Dan Miller watching from the wings.  At one point he waved to someone in my general section of the crowd, but when I turned around to look, I couldn’t see anyone looking in his direction.  He came back on for Man It’s So Loud In Here, which was introduced as the last song of the night.  They left the stage after that, leaving us to cheer for their return.  You could tell that people were tired.  While the crowd kept up it’s cheering before each encore, a lot of the wild enthusiasm usually present was lacking.

The first encore began with Mrs. Bluebeard, which I’m always happy to hear live.  Dan Miller got the bit he had been so frustrated with in the fall without any problems, and was clearly pleased with himself.  Flans thanked everyone once again and they played Damn Good Times, with Dan wow-ing the crowd with another amazing solo.

Flans, Linnell, and Marty were the only ones returning to the stage for the second encore, soon followed by John Carter and Fresh carrying out the glockenspiel.   Fresh and Marty had another mallet spin-off, with Fresh having improved his game since the Buffalo show, but Marty still the clear victor.  

They played Shoehorn With Teeth, with all due decorum going into the playing of the glockenspiel. Flans forgot which verse he was starting at one point, starting partway into the first line.

After the song was over, Flans told us that they didn’t know where the other tassel was.  Linnell decided that the number of tassels showed how skilled the glockenspiel player was, and that you had tassels removed as you moved up the levels.  Marty, he explained, was a one tassel player, but would eventually have the other tassel removed.  Fresh, back onstage to remove the glockenspiel, made a big show of acting like he was removing the remaining tassel and then ‘changing his mind’ and leaving it.

By then, Dan and Danny had returned to the stage.  Flans told us all that this was the last song “for real now.  Last time we were lying.”

“This is the song we like to do last.”

They played the Mesopotamians, then left the stage for the final time.

As soon as they were gone, Fresh was out onstage, assisting the girl next to me who had lost her glasses over the railing towards the end of the show.  Her efforts to retrieve them had made me feel less than charitable about the whole situation, but it was wonderful how prepared Fresh was to help her.  While Flans, Danny, and Marty were passing out stickers and setlists, Flans even brought over his fan to blow away some of the confetti from the spot and make finding the glasses easier, eventually handing the fan to Fresh so he could continue the search.

I didn’t quite cry leaving, but it was a near thing.  I hope for many more concerts to come, but since have to take a break from my touring habit, this show was a wonderful high note to end on.

[wishingfornever]

10/9/17 – No Contact:  Dealership of Absence

Nothing is ever perfect.  If it were, then what would be the point?  There is a lot of charm in innocent mistakes.  If no one gets hurt, then why be bothered?

That said, I’m feeling… ambitious.  I’ve got so much I want to do.  I want to build, expand, exceed.  I… have not spent my time wisely.  It’s currently 3 in the morning. I’ve spent a lot of time I could have used writing on researching. I know what I want to right, inspired by what I’ve been learning from my witch friend.  With magic and what not. I didn’t want it to be a generic fantasy.  No.  This will be inspired on Song Dynasty China.  Basically China before the Mongols invaded.  There is a lot I can work with too.  I have so many ambitions that I maybe I over pace myself.  It’s alright.  I’ll find the time soon.  ;)

Still, there is a lot I can do and even more I can work with.  Like… near endless possibilities.  It’s like an all you can eat buffet but not shit.  You’re not pressured to eat as much as possible because of the fuck off prices and the food isn’t going bad in front of you. Rather, it’s more a matter of “If you want to try something new, go for it.  Maybe it’ll taste good too.”

Right now, I really should finish my first book before I get wrapped up in something else.  Otherwise, I won’t ever get the chance to write anything new.  It’s a simple concept.  I write so I can write some more.  How can I not get that? I have a lot of distractions.  Mostly industrious distractions but still distractions.

I need to apply for a job this week.  I need to go shopping today. What should I get?  Probably not much.  I’m excited, though.  I should go to bed.  Try to start my day early.  End it with a shower. Maybe get some sets in.  Have to let Adela know we need to go shopping.  Or at least I do.

I’m hopeful.  Anyways, I’m going to bed.  I’m in a good mood.  The worst part about being in a good mood?  

I always want to message you.  Ain’t that a bitch?

I dreamed about us again…  Christ.  This time we got an apartment and I applied for a job at a car dealership.  I got it too but I kept thinking it was going to end up just like the cemetery.  Maybe all my dreams had  you in it.  Maybe I’m just remembering them because I’m documenting them?

Whatever. -,-

I’m doing my sets and then Max and I are going for a jog.  I didn’t go out and job hunt like I intended, but there is plenty of time.  Adela was pretty busy today.  So… we’ll go grocery shopping later.  I wonder how healthy ketchup is…  Probably not that much.  But I need it for my eggs.  :c

Saw a thing that said “What happens when you go vegan or vegetarian!” and I was thinking, “Oh, some negative effects, surely!”  It began by saying how a lot of people have been going vegetarian and how it’s the most recent trend. Furthering the trend motive by saying how many people are jumping on board just because. Not so good.  I don’t like going with the crowd.  Thus, I expected some negative side effects. Nope! Each one was super positive.  Like, it just cemented why I shouldn’t switch back and I’m like, “D’oh...”  I had a dream about meat when I stopped eating it.  I miss my meat.  All over my mouth. Hashtag no homo. Regardless, this might be a lasting thing.  I’m not sure how long it’ll last.  Maybe not too long. Anyways, been watching gifs with sound.  Going to watch more of it during my sets and I’m going to get ready for my jog.  Currently 5pm.  Later.

Just finished the jog.  And, by proxy, my sets.  I come back, watch some gifs with sound as I catch my breath.  Just played a GIF that reminded me of you.  Oof.  x.x

Today has not been an easy day.  A lot is reminding me of you.  I want to message you.  Just to see how you’re doing but you won’t answer.  Even if you did, would it be honest?  Not calling you a liar… I just know you’d rather me not worry.  Even if you’ve stopped caring about me. I might message you sooner rather than later.  The wait is unbearable.

I miss you.  Maybe you miss me too.  Or maybe you’ve moved on.  I don’t know.  I guess I should try to plan out what our next conversation will go like.  Can’t account for what you say, but I can account for what I say.  I’m accountable only for my words. Stating the obvious like it’s nothing.

I’ll probably shop alone.  Not that Adela doesnt want to go but she’s had a long day.  Doctor’s appointment plus… barre.  Never written it out before.  Weird.  Regardless, I don’t like shopping alone.  I wonder what you’d suggest I get.  I don’t know.  I wish I did.  It’d be easier if you were just here. Oof, the level of missing you is hitting an all time high.  >< Whatever.  If I’m lucky, you’ll go shopping with me again.  Adela has a blender.  We could do those smoothies.  I need to pick up more avocados.  Definitely.  Maybe a few salads.  I don’t know.  I feel pressured.  Something so trivial.  I feel like I’ll always make the wrong decision.  That I’m pitted between getting what’s healthy and what has a shelf life.  I want both but it feels like I can only choose one. Yesterday, I threw out a Mango and four kiwi. I don’t know if they went bad.  I just feel like they did.  Rotten food… it’s never sat well with me.  Not sure why.  Could be my upbringing.  Always afraid of rotting food.  Of course, my dad didn’t cook so much back then.  He wasn’t always getting high.  What you saw wasn’t really a reflection of my life.  Just my recent life. Since I left for Texas the first time, it’s been like that.  This is the out I’ve needed.  Away from my family. Hard to say.  My dad’s overly elaborate and dramatic behavior? That’s been something that I grew up with.  Might have gotten worse, though. In Texas…  The first time was so bad, I stopped eating.  My food went rotten.  I was just so depressed.  That was when I was living alone.  Cemetery, too.  It wasn’t so good for me.  I was afraid of rotten food before then but I just ate less.  I reached a point where I knew I had to eat.  So, I started going out. Went to go get fast food. With enough of it… well, I gained so much weight.  I was ashamed, but I didn’t stop.

When I came back, I weighed 240.  That’s… a lot.  I never weighed that much.  I’ve never weighed this much.  Christ, I just want to stop eating now.  ><

Thing is, I’m getting healthy food.  I shouldn’t skimp out on healthy food.  I have to overcome my anxiety with rotting food.  My fear of food going rotten.  I feel so petty but… what can I do?  I can eat the food I have.  There is no other way.

I hate throwing out food.

I’m going to steal Adela’s scale.  When I left, I was 275.  I think I MIGHT have gained weight from those days where I pigged out.  I’m intentionally eating less because… rotting food.  If you see me again and I weigh 200, I’ll look good but keep in mind that I weigh that much because I basically stopped eating.  Crash.  Diet.

In the event of a crash diet… what do I do?  Should I start eating again?  Like big amounts?  I don’t know.  I can imagine what you’d say. “Google it.  Stop bothering me.” Ugh… I’m panicking.  Brb

Can’t get the scale to work.  Ah, well.  I think it needs batteries.  I’m sitting here, naked.  About to take a shower.  Adela will be back soon, so instead of taking a shower I decided to just update the journal.  Lol, I’m so good with time management.

I’ve been on a great upswing lately.  Like… you might have noticed but assumed it’s just me trying to get you back.  It’s not.  I know this because I’m feeling a bit moody now.  I miss you a lot so… yeah.  I think things can work.  I’ll get over this.  I’m hungry. I’m probably smelly and thus dirty.  Sweaty at least from the jog and sets.

I’m taking my laptop into the bathroom.  It’s nice to have music play when you shower.  Been listening to a lot of music lately.  Last night, I was listening to IRA music.  The IRA, of course, stands for “Irish Republican Army” and they’re a terrorist group who wants Northern Ireland to be a part of Ireland again.  They’re totally right, too.  Ireland should be Ireland.  Catholics get oppressed in Northern Ireland and that’s half their population.  The other half is protestant.

I can tell you more about that later.  For now?  Time to bathe.  But what to listen to…

Hey, just checked nationstates.  You checked it 17 hours ago.  Dennis did not.  That divide, though.

You didn’t do anything though… did… you get on just to check on me?  Quite a theory, I know.  But… why did you get on?  Your last activity was 10 days ago and that was just because your influence in your dumb fucking region went up.

Maybe you’re trying to keep your nation from dying… hrm…

Dennis did his issues four days ago.  Unlike you.  I’m worried.  In other news, everything for my nation is going quite well.  I want to message you and keep telling you to make decisions because it does make the mind healthy, but again.  You don’t want to talk to me. That and you’ll think I’m stalking you, which I’m not.

Now that I think about it, maybe I should.  Just see what you’re doing on Facebook. Nah, I need a shower.  Talk to you later.  ;)

So… they didn’t have enough avocados.  Drat.  I made myself an awesome sandwich.  Onions… tomatoes… cheese… honey mustard… spinach… no meat.  It’s great.  I love it.