#hello it seems i abandoned this blog two years ago?? wow

[snowstcrm]

shall I revive this blog?

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 02 (knj)

Chapter 2 - Pizza and Life Chats

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N go on their first date, and Namjoon is whipped.

word count- 5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- pg13 for now

genre- series, fluff, eventual smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- mentions of hangovers and panic attacks, tooth-rottingly fluffy

a.n- okay here’s the second part! I wrote this up fairly quickly (don’t expect this to be the norm!). This part I wanted to kind of address the stress of overworking as a young adult (GUILTY 🙋🏻‍♀️) so sorry if it gets a little serious at parts. I also wanted to switch it up so it’s from Namjoon’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. SOFT JOON BEING A BIG OLD SOFTY.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut

-

Namjoon woke up startled as his phone alarm rang. He was groggy and his splitting headache made him nauseous. “I’m never going to drink again”, he mumbled. He groaned as he got off the couch he had crashed on the night before, trying not to trip over Taehyung who seemed to be dozing happily on the floor as he made his way to his room. He hadn’t stayed at the dorms in a while, preferring the quiet solitary of his own apartment nowadays, and with his hangover in full swing he felt like he was walking through a stranger’s house.

Last month was hell. He had procrastinated on his songs and none of the vocal guides were even halfway done before the due date. Every time he tried to finish a song a new one would pop up in his head and he would start on that, leading to a hard drive full of files labelled “finish soon” and “draft”, and a notebook full of scratched out scribbles. It was like his brain had decided to abandon him, deciding it had had enough of his perpetual melancholy. He had felt drained and burnt out, a husk with no creative juices left. Luckily, Yoongi and a few of the producers had taken pity on his stressed out state and lent a hand so he had been able to finish the bare minimum three days ago - before the label pressured him further. He was never more grateful for a small break.

In all honesty, he needed a way to jumpstart his brain, and get out of the routine of home, practice, meetings, studio, home. Sometimes, he almost wished he didn’t have the success he had so he could go out and let loose a little - a club, a party, anything. But the last time he went somewhere like that he got swarmed and the police had to be involved. He couldn’t risk that, not after the trouble Big Hit went to threaten media outlets a year and a half ago, when he was caught with what they called a hickey, but was actually a stress rash.

As he brushed his teeth today, however, he smiled at the mirror. Last month may have been terrible, but last night was one of the best he’d had in the past year.

When he had heard Bang PD’s team talk about how they were attending the charity gala as he met them for notes on his songs, he was intrigued. He had read about this non-profit in the paper before. They seemed to be helping bridge the gap between people through communication and that spoke to him. So much so that he had scrolled through their website multiple times, reading testimonials and almost memorizing the mission statement. They wanted to help kids learn English for free so they could communicate globally. He really liked the idea. It was hard for him to learn the language as a kid and he knew that the only reason he became as fluent as he is from the tutors his parents paid for and his obsession with American television and music. Although he didn’t need the tutoring anymore, he did enjoy talking to the in-house tutor at the company, John, from time to time and improving his skills. The fact that this company wanted to add a John to every school in Korea starting from the rural areas, made Namjoon want to meet the man behind the movement. Little did he know, he’d be meeting the girl who’d shift his idea of the ideal.

He had never been more glad to have convinced his company to let him and the boys attend an event. He had initially suggested it as a way to break the mundane before their comeback practices started and network while supporting a cause he liked. Two days ago, he wouldn’t have guessed it would have been an actual fun night leading to him nursing a headache.

He spent the next hour reliving last night as he showered and caught up on the news. He also read the messages he sent last night over a hundred times and had butterflies each time. Wasn’t he too old for butterflies? He wanted to message you again but every time he tried, he ended up overthinking it. Everything sounded forced or cheesy, and it was worse than any writer’s block. He threw his phone on the bed in frustration watching it bounce and land on the floor, before he grabbed it and pocketed it. Hopping around to get rid of his nerves, he decided to take a break from rereading the thread he already had memorized and check in with everyone. If his hangover was this bad he couldn’t imagine theirs.

Making his way back to the living room he found Taehyung now sitting on the floor, sleep still very evident on his features as he yawned and groaned. On the couch next to him sat Yoongi, holding an iced americano and staring into space. The rest were missing but he could hear a blender annoyingly whizzing in the kitchen.

“How’re you guys feeling this morning?” He asked as he sat across from Yoongi.

“This is why I don’t drink. Why did no one stop me?” Taehyung whined as he rose from the floor to leave, massaging his head.

“We tried. You were very excited to try all the disgustingly sweet drinks the hot bartender was making for you.” Yoongi replied with a sigh. “How was your date, Namjoon? You glad I forced you to go to the bar to talk to her?” he snickered, sipping his coffee before exhaling loudly in contentment.

“Honestly, I owe you big time. She was… amazing. I don’t think I’ve talked to someone that comfortably in a while” Namjoon sighed wistfully.

“I’ll add cupid to my resume,” he deadpanned. “Is she tolerating you for another date?”

“Yeah. We’re getting dinner on Tuesday, but I want to message her now. Argh!” He ran his hands over his face in frustration. “What do I even say? ‘Hi I’m the guy who was too scared to kiss you all night so you had to do it for him, what’s your favourite colour?’” Namjoon was annoyed at himself. It’s bad enough that he was having writer’s block in his music, did he have to have it for something as simple as texting too? This was ridiculous!

“Or you could just ask her how’s her hangover today. Jeez! Do I have to draft each of your messages? Stop being a dumbass and text the person you like.” Yoongi scoffed, clearly over Namjoon’s sudden and uncharacteristic insecurities.

Namjoon gave a resigned sigh as he reached for his phone and wrote out exactly what Yoongi suggested. Hey, he was his hyung for a reason - he had a full 6 months of life experience on him.

Namjoon: Hey! Hope your hangover is not too bad today.

As soon as the message was sent, he started getting nervous. Tapping his foot incessantly while he stared at his phone, willing it to buzz, annoying Yoongi enough to leave him alone on the couch in the process.

Y/N: Hi to you too! I actually don’t get hangovers so I’m doing great lol. What about you?

Namjoon: What do you mean you don’t get hangovers?

Y/N: I don’t know. Can’t get dehydrated if you’re always dehydrated!

Namjoon: That… makes no sense. Do I need to start reminding you to drink water?

Y/N: Only if you’re better than this app on my phone…

Namjoon: I can guarantee you I’m better than any app on this planet.

Y/N: Wow. Big claims! We’ll have to put it to the test I suppose.

Y/N: You never told me how you’re feeling. Oh and how’s Taehyung? Is he okay?

Namjoon: He’s doing fine. Made a pact to never drink again and if i’m being honest, I’m going to join him. I am shocked that your head is not exploding as well.

The messages continued easily after that, filled with updates of each other’s activities, playful flirting and even photos of dinner. By the time Monday rolled around, you had been messaging each other constantly, with no end to the conversation in sight and the only long pauses being when you were both asleep or working. It seemed like you would never run out things to talk about. Namjoon hadn’t messaged someone this frequently since he got out of his last relationship. It felt nice to relay his mundane day to day events to someone and he found himself excited to hear about your mundane, like how you decided to mix two different types of bad coffee blends to make a shockingly worse one. He was surprised again at how fast he felt comfortable around you. It was even starting to scare him a little - he only knew you for three days and it felt like he had known you forever! What was this weird spell you had on him?

The conversation Monday, however, was fairly sparse, and Namjoon was eager to set up plans for the next day, so that night he decided to call you.

After the first three rings, he was overthinking his decision. Maybe it was too soon to call? Maybe you didn’t like talking on the phone? What if it went to voicemail? Would he have to leave a message? What would he say? His inner monologue was quickly halted at the sound of your voice.

“Hello, this is Y/N” you sounded distant, almost too formal. He felt nervous.

“Hi… uh… this is Namjoon. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh Namjoon! Sorry I didn’t check who called when I picked up!” Relief washed over him at the change of your tone. “Sorry one sec can you hold on.” he heard you say as your voice got mumbled. He waited while he heard you talk to someone about proposals and deadlines. Were you still at work? He checked his watch - it was 10 pm. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by your work ethic or worried that you were overworking.

“Hi sorry about that! How are you?” He relaxed at your airy tone and smiled.

“I’m good. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah it’s only like 7 so it’s no big deal. I usually leave around 8” Were you serious?

“Y/N… It’s 10:04…” He was shocked at how nonchalant you sounded, and suddenly he had his answer - he was worried, not impressed. He had known you for three days and already you were setting his caretaker alarm off. He wanted to scold you for being careless and overworking, like he’s used to doing for the boys, but he knew it was too soon. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling that way all of a sudden and tried to suppress his protective instincts.

“No it’s not! It’s…” He could hear your voice going further away as he imagined you moving the phone in front of you to check the time. “Oh shit you’re right. What the hell? Okay sorry I’m gonna put you on hold again.” Before he could say anything he heard your voice again, distant again but loud. “Oh my god. Guys, it’s 10pm. Go home! Why did nobody tell me? No it doesn’t matter we can do that tomorrow. Please go home. Pack up now! You too Siwon, don’t worry I’ll go home after I get off the phone. See you!” He smiled at the sternness of your tone - it reminded him of a teacher dismissing class.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I overworked my team. Had to send the troops home” you laughed and Namjoon felt his heart flutter.

“I don’t wanna keep you from going home. I can call you back once you get there,” he offered. He felt bad that you were staying in an empty office on his account.

“Oh don’t worry about it. It was a lie to get Siwon off my back. I’m probably gonna be here till like 1 or something. I still have to get this done” you said matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He knew that tone fairly well, having used it multiple times himself when he locked himself in his studio, running on nothing but coffee and energy bars.

“Okay I know we’ve only just met and we have our first date tomorrow, but do you want some company?” He asked before he could stop himself. The line was silent for a bit, and he felt self conscious, scared that he had overstepped and driven you away. Before he could check his phone to see if you had hung up you spoke.

“It’d be pretty boring for you to watch me just type away. Are you sure? It’s pretty late.” He was sure his cheeks would hurt from how wide he smiled.

“It’s not a problem at all. I was going to work tonight too.” He wasn’t. “We can just work together. I’ll bring food. Did you eat yet?” his words tumbled over each other.

“How very college of you.” He could hear you giggling on the line. “Now that I think about it - I’m starving.”

“Okay text me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He had never been this excited to pretend to work.

He spotted you as he walked through the doors of the 13th floor, pepperoni pizza in hand. You were sitting at a long desk near the middle of the room. He was surprised as he expected you in an office, but he found you typing away at your desktop. Your hair was tied up in a bun and you were dressed in an oversized beige t-shirt, eyebrows furrowed head bopping to the hip hop track playing through the speakers. You seemed to be in your own little world. He felt like he was spying on you as he leaned against the door watching but he also liked seeing how you acted when you thought no one was watching. He was about to announce his presence when the track changed to a Childish Gambino one and you whooped and started to rap along.

You were now fully head banging and rapping the verse at the top of your lungs. He would be impressed by your fairly good amateur skills if he didn’t find the entire scene so endearing. His heart was doing somersaults as he watched you now fully engrossed in the song, typing forgotten as you got up and started to pretend you were on stage, an imaginary mic in your hand asking haters if they “eatin’ though”. You looked so adorable that he couldn’t help but squeal a little “cute!”

That’s when you saw him, eyes wide. He felt a little bad when he saw how embarrassed you looked, immediately stopping and slapping a hand to your mouth before bursting out in nervous laughter. He could write a whole album with that laugh. Oh he was so whipped, he thought to himself as he made his way to you.

“You know you’re not half bad!” He exclaimed as he set the pizza on the table, pulling a chair next to yours and settling down.

“Do you think your fake compliments will save you from the fact that you were spying on me?” you asked, crossing your hands across your chest, pretending to scowl but failing to do so.

“First, real compliment. Second, would pizza save me?” He opened the box and proudly smiled, loving the way your eyes lit up as you reached for a slice.

“Yes it will!” you exclaimed as you took your first bite, lightly moaning at the taste. “But erase that memory from your brain please.”

“Nope. Never. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to save it forever” he said as he also started on his slice. You pouted up at him, cheeks puffed and it took all the self-control he had to not kiss it off your face. He hadn’t felt this way in so long, it was like you were his first crush. Trying to control his pulse, he asked “What are you working on so late?”

“Oh I have a proposal due for a meeting tomorrow at noon and I’m only halfway through it,” you frowned wistfully at the screen as if willing it to type on its own.

“Can I help?” He asked, knowing fully well that he couldn’t. He just had an overwhelming urge to make that frown disappear.

“You being here is help enough,” you smiled sincerely as you looked at him and he felt his heart explode, a blush creeping on his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. “What are you working on?”

“I have a few songs I have to finish the lyrics for. Been procrastinating” he rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled out the notebook from his back pocket.

“Can I help?” you echoed his question to which he echoed your response grinning. He wasn’t lying though. Even though he had planned to not really work, as the night progressed he found the change from his usual writing spot inspiring. Sitting next to you, the sound of the keyboard clicking was soothing leading to words pouring out of him. He filled pages as he stole glances at you concentrating on your proposal, tongue peeking from between your lips, still bobbing to the music which was now playing from your airpods instead of the speakers. He smiled at the sight, before focusing on his notebook.

After about an hour or so of hard work, he finished three songs that he had allotted himself the whole week to do. This was the most productive hour he had all month. Antsy for a break, he looked over at you and found you staring at him, a hand under your chin. As he met your gaze you smiled.

“You’re really hot when you concentrate. Has anyone ever told you that?” you commented. He was taken aback by your remark, heart fluttering at your smirking face. Not missing his chance and spurred on by the comment, he scooted closer in one sweep till your knees touched and you were face to face.

“You’re one to talk. I couldn’t stop looking at you this past hour.” Gazing into your eyes, he was amused to see your smirk disappear as it was now your turn to be shocked. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear letting his hand linger, enjoying the way you sighed as he did. “Can I make good on my promise now?” He whispered, his face centimeters away, looking at your lips. The way you bit your lower lip made him want to take you there and then. The desk looked big enough. Hell, even if it wasn’t he could make it work.

“Promise?” you whispered as he watched your eyes flutter to his lips.

“To kiss you first…” Too impatient to wait for your answer, he brought his lips to yours, relishing how soft they felt under his own. He was thrilled at you returning the kiss, deepening it as you grabbed the collar of his shirt to bring him closer just like you did after the party. He was beginning to think this was your signature move, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t immensely turn him on. He moved his hand cupping your face to rest on your neck and he could feel your heartbeat mimicking his. He put his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as he could get. He traced his tongue over your lips, his head cloudy with endorphins as you opened your mouth inviting him in. He had never tasted something so euphoric, his tongue exploring yours in a rush.

He could feel you pushing forward as he leaned back and allowed you to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of the chair. As soon as you were on his lap, he pulled you closer, both arms around on your hips, your chest flushed with his. He kissed the side of your mouth as he made his way down your jaw to your neck. You smelt like vanilla mixed with a fresh flower garden, and he was sure this smell was better than any drug in the world. He could hear your breathy moans as he sucked where your neck met your collarbone, licking to soothe it before moving further. He wanted to taste all of you. Your hands were in his hair and each tug made him groan into you, making him harder. He could kiss you like this forever. He wanted to save this moment so he could come back to it and relive it. He traced his hands up and down your sides, moving under your shirt but remaining on your waist, enjoying the feel of your soft skin.

“Namjoon… Namjoon… slow down” he heard you say breathlessly as he felt a slight push. He looked up at you, your eyes half lidded and lusty as you grabbed his face and brought it to yours. You were sending him mixed signals, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep kissing you.

“We have to slow down or I’m going to want to fuck you right here.” You whined as you both came back up for air, but you kissed him again nevertheless. Hearing you say that made him want to do anything in his power to make that happen.

“I don’t mind, baby,” he said against your lips, kissing you with urgency, biting your lower lip and pulling it gently to elicit another moan from you. To his disappointment, you seemed to have better self-control than him as you pushed him back, both of you panting as you struggled to catch your breath. He moved his hand back to your hips tracing little circles, feeling comforted by you smoothing his hair you had pulled earlier.

“There are cameras here. I’d rather not make a sex tape on our first date.” You giggled as you pointed to the black sphere in the corner of the room. He had never hated the obsession buildings had for security more, but the crudeness of your comment made him laugh. He had almost forgotten this was your first date, it felt like he had kissed you a thousand times before. You tasted like the relief of an awning in the middle of a summer downpour.

“I think we need to cool down,” you say as you climb off of his lap. “Let’s go.”

He followed you as you led him to the little kitchenette near the end of the room, unable to resist the urge to wrap his hands around your waist in a back hug. He knew he was being too clingy for a first date, but the way you giggled and put your hands over his gave him assurance.

“Lemonade, coke, or water,” you asked as you peered into the fridge.

“You.” He smirked kissing your neck, feeling bold off of the high from your makeout session.

“Joon!” you pretended to sound scandalized as you turned in his arms, smiling warmly. The nickname made his heart swell. It added a familiarity that he didn’t know he missed from you.

“You haven’t called me Joon before. I like it” he smiled as he pecked your lips.

“Hey! We are cooling down! No kissing! Now pick” you chided and Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder if you were this assertive in bed too, a million scenarios playing in his head. Okay, you were right, he needed to cool down.

“I’ll just have water, thanks,” he said as he grabbed the bottle you passed him, opening and gulping half of it. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was for something other than you. You both made your way to the tables, sitting across from each other.

“So did you finish your proposal?” He asked trying to cool himself but failing as he noticed you running the cold water bottle against your neck, the beads of condensation dripping on your shirt. He cleared his throat as he tried to focus his attention on your eyes, a mantra of stay focused playing in his head.

“Yes! Finally! It’s perfect.” you smiled proudly and somehow he felt a wave of pride too. “What about you? Made any progress?”

“Actually yes. I kind of finished my entire week’s writing in that one hour” he was still amazed by his own progress.

“Okay, Mr Overachiever” you joked and he chuckled.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything, but I don’t know your presence is kind of soothing. It helped me focus.” Watching your smile grow wide, he continued, “I’ve been having pretty severe burnout this past month and it has just been hard to put down my thoughts, even non-lyrical ones.” He fidgeted with the water bottle as he looked at it, avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t know why he was telling you this. He recalled when he told you about his struggles as a leader during your first conversation. Somehow being around you led him to vomit out his feelings. It was… unlike him. Namjoon was usually not this honest on dates, or relationships, as much as he would hate to admit it. That’s the reason he broke off his last one. He felt bad lying to her about a busy schedule when he just wanted to be alone. She would have understood, she was kind and thoughtful, but it just felt easier to lie and not put the effort in to explain his thoughts. Even when they broke up, he lied and told her that it was because he couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, when in reality things had cooled off a while ago and he felt guilty as his feelings faded.

He felt your hand reach out and grab one of his, intertwining your fingers. He felt comforted by the gesture as you rubbed your thumb across him before you spoke two words that warmed his heart. “I understand.”

“You know it’s hard to work at full speed all the time. It’s okay to not be at a hundred all the time. The valleys feed the peaks” you continued. It was a simple remark, but it sounded surprisingly poetic to him. He hadn’t felt this understood outside of the boys for a long time. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. He resisted his natural urge to run and hide.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, needing to divert the attention away from his own vulnerabilities.

“Yeah. I had it pretty tough a couple of years ago. Too much pressure from myself, too many expectations. Led to too many vices and panic attacks” you shrugged as you continued and he squeezed your hand to comfort you. “It creeps up from time to time but my therapist and I have it handled” He looked at you in awe. You hadn’t given him a throwaway answer or switched the limelight back at him. You wasted no time in being as vulnerable as him, if not more. He knew at that moment that regardless of where this thing went, he wanted you to know you better.

“Thank you for being honest.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. It was an intimate gesture but he wanted you to know how much he appreciated your words - how much he appreciated you - in that moment. You both sat in comfortable silence for a little while, playing with each other’s hands that were still intertwined, till one of you yawned loudly causing the other to giggle. With the weight of the conversation lifting, you both fell back into playful banter as you decided to pack up and call it a night.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Namjoon asked, wanting to drag the night on longer despite it already being almost 2 am.

“Don’t judge me but I actually don’t know how to drive. I was just going to cab back.” he saw you giggle bashfully as you pulled your backpack over your shoulders.

“Oh, no judgment here! Me neither” he laughed. Why does everyone think it is such a big deal to not drive? It’s better for the environment! “Do you want to take one together? I don’t really want you to ride alone this late.” He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t come off as if he was trying to dictate what you did.

“I’d really like that,” you said as you walked towards the elevators. He held your hand as you both got on, liking the way you moved closer to him at that.

In the cab you both sat closer than necessary, his arm wrapped around you as you both made plans for your scheduled date later that day, trying not to doze off. When the cab stopped all too soon at your apartment, he kissed you gently as he told you how much he enjoyed your company.

That night laying in bed, his heart felt full as he read your goodnight message. He was sure of it now. He really wanted you in his life.

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[bleachbleachbleach]

HELLO.

I just wanted to say that I love, love, love your tags on that character/tool post a lot! Some of my favorite shows/books involve characters that can't keep it together and just barely make it to the end of the story or make it there in an "inconvenient way" and tbh I find that usually the narratives that follow these characters don't really work away from them either--the narrative is just usually more questioning instead of fully formed.

Like, 'what if/how would', y'know? There's less of a clear meaning and more just 'what if they hadn't done that. what if they had done that. what if all that meant nothing. what if that struggle was all there was'.

But oh boy, when they DO work away from the narrative. *chefs kiss*

I mean, most of my favorite Bleach characters are narrative nightmares who either hinder or cut off lines of theme in the story entirely. And, in general, I think there are A LOT of characters in shonen--a genre known for very long narratives that can't possibly complete every thought but also can't just abandon all those characters introduced ESPECIALLY the fan favorites or personal favorites--work in the way you described.

Tbh i think your tags really highlight why so many ppl get drawn to these characters/why they're so fun to play with in fanfiction.

If you have more to add or more thoughts about this you want to lay down I am here, eagerly awaiting and ready to pick them up.

Also, who do you think in Bleach is the most fun characters who sort of drop kicked the story, in your opinion? Who's the one you like the most? And who's the one you dislike the most?

[For posterity the referenced post is this one.]

Aww, thank you! That’s really lovely to hear. I was anxious about even putting it in tags because I don’t think I presently have the capacity to explain it well—and even if I did might still sound bananas to many. Or at least the bit about negotiating with characters and how *they* feel about being subjects in stories. Because as much as that really is my practice saying it out loud takes me back to like… FFN in 2003 where every store was prefaced by extensive chat-form back-and-forths between the fic author and their character "musies" and that is not something I think fandom would benefit from bringing back in force, hahaha. But anyway.

Here’s the part where I disappoint because I don’t think I actually know Bleach well enough to speak to it in this context. WHICH SOUNDS DUMB EVEN AS I TYPE IT BECAUSE LOL WTF IS THE NAME OF THIS BLOG WE ARE CHARLATANS AND POSERS FOR CLAIMING AS OUR NAMESAKE NOT ONE BLEACH BUT THREE BLEACHES but truly, my experience of Bleach has a shallow depth of field. I feel like I have weirdly intimate knowledge of some severe rabbit holes but a non-existent to uneasy sense of the gestalt.

Like idek man, in my "slow re-read where I am actually paying attention" Ichigo hasn’t even met Byakuya and Renji yet. ToT

I'm gonna put this behind a cut because it spidered all over the place, but in summary:

characters and their capacity to produce narrative failure

the charm of longform serialized series and their invitations to imagine stuff

me attempting to talk about Hitsugaya and feeling a fool, as usual

I guess in general terms, I’m really interested in characters and their capacity to produce narrative failure. Not failure as in 'bad' but failure as in things that break form or are circuitous or are actively detrimental to a narrative arc. All my strongest examples of what I’m thinking of are from a different fandom and therefore not relevant to this blog, alas. By comparison I think anyone in Bleach can keep it together better than the characters that are immediately coming to mind, lol. But I think this idea dovetails often with trauma narratives, or depression narratives, because these things are often… non-narrative? Like, there’s no fourth or fifth for minor fall or major lift. Sometimes it’s the same thing over and over again, or maybe nothing. Maybe it’s the exact same self-sabotage narrative dictates could have been avoided. Maybe it’s some act that emanates forth but cannot be explained because it cannot be explained and will never be explained. That’s a version of what I’m talking about, in any case, though not the only version.

Your note about longform shounen definitely resonates with me, too. In my mind I don’t like long things and I prefer series that are more self-contained but whenever I have ever landed in a long-term fandom, with a piece of media I felt obliged to carve out chunks of my life for, and to interact with at that level of creative fannishness, it’s always been something stupid long and serialized by the seat of its pants. I know plot holes or dropped threads bother a lot of people (makes total sense, don’t get me wrong) but I find these things incredibly attractive. I see them as invitations to join in the fun. Especially when it’s so much a part of the form and genre to have this, as you said, lack of real expectation that every thread will be followed to its conclusion (or that it would be worthwhile to do so) and every thought completed.

There’s this piece by David Grann that was published in The New Yorker in 2004 that I really love that speaks to part of this idea, albeit in terms of fictional universes versus fictional characters. But Grann is talking about Sherlock Holmes (Doyle original) and the ways that Sherlockians would like, approach apparent lapses in narrative and then solve them according to the established rules of the universe. I just love that. There’s also the line, "Never had so much been written by so many for so few," which LOL if that ain’t fandom I don’t know what is!!

I feel like I’m actually talking about three distinct but related facets of these thoughts in this post, except all at once and without clear transition, uhhhhh.

Gah, I am broken and now can ONLY think of examples from my not-Bleach fandom, but to try a different tack and add yet another facet to this already funhouse-mirror post, my various attempts to write Hitsugaya often feel like they come up against a version of this. I think Hitsugaya has aggressive side character energy, and I find it difficult to make him the center of a story and have it feel right to me. He feels different to me than writing other minor characters, where they can be the center of their own stories even if their story is not the main story. Like, two of my fave characters in my other fandom have literally like… three lines in 350+ episodes and it feels easier to imagine THEM at the center of their story and I think what it comes down to is that Hitsugaya probably prefers what he not be written. And when he does become more narrative I think he’d prefer that none of it was happening in the fist place. But at the same time he always seems to be…around??? whether there is really a good reason for him to be present or not. XD So while, say, he and Bartleby "would prefer not to" (because THAT'S what this post needs, a Melville reference), Bartleby actually opts out and Hitsugaya out here volunteering.

He also often feels non-narrative to me because he feels very declarative, if that makes sense? Like, the coming-to-decisions or coming-to-realizations parts of existence happen pretty quick, or are approached perfunctorily. I feel like I find narrative in the "coming" part of that equation and instead Hitsugaya will be like, well, I’ve already done that part without you, and/or plan to do that part in the future and it will still be without you, the audience. Anyway, here’s the determination I’ve made, here’s what I’m going to do, and here begins the long and probably tedious process of my doing that thing (off 2 go train in a cave for a bit). I don’t think he actually believes the world is that simple, Tab A into Slot B, but I do think he’s already made that assessment and can see coming to terms with that as a horizon, if that makes sense. So even if he doesn’t know the answer to something, or is completely at a loss of what to do (what to say to Hinamori? how to productively address the number Aizen’s done on him) there’s still not necessarily a story there. Maybe the answer is you grind, and it is repetitive and boring. Maybe you just hold things. There’s not even the act of learning how to hold things, necessarily, just the practice of doing so.

Wow, that probably doesn’t sound good! I feel like I need to suffix this with the assurance that Hitsugaya is my absolute runaway character in the whole series and this was true 15 years ago and it is still true now (truer, even) and everything I just said are reasons why I love him.

[robertemeryofficial]

Behind the scenes with Stewart Copeland: Why dumb shit makes me happy (#1) - TRANSCRIPT

"If the only reason humans pro-create is Vivaldi, we would all be fucked…"  -- Stewart Copeland

In this inaugural episode of the new ‘Backstage with Robert Emery’ podcast, RDCE talks to Stewart Copeland, the founder and drummer of the British rock band 'The Police'. Stewart talks about why he attributes studying 'Mass Communication & Public Policy' to becoming one of the worlds most famous drummers, why one of his balls is called Ben Hur, and how he grew up not knowing his Father was a spy.

Stewart is an American musician and composer.  Apart from his most famous role as a rockstar, over the years he has produced film and video game soundtracks, written music for ballets, operas and orchestras, and in 2003 was inducted into the 'Rock and Roll Hall of Fame'.  

This whistle-stop tour of his life takes us through his nine years in The Police with Sting and Andy Summers, his solo projects as a composer, and his predictions of the status of orchestral and rock music in twenty years.

Listen Now

Listen to the episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, Overcast, or on your favourite podcast platform. 

Transcript

Hello, lovely people, and welcome to the inaugural episode of The Backstage Blog with me, Robert Emery.

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Now, you know me, I’d only mention a company if I used and approved of them, and I do. And you know what? The thing I love about them the most is that after seven years of wear and tear, my first bag still looks as new as the backpack I bought just six months ago. So, if you're a busy traveller and want something that is stylish and secure, visit thebackstageblog.com and click on Partners.

Hello, lovely people. Today I'm really excited to be having a chat with my friend, rock god and all-round crazy gentleman, Stewart Copeland. Stewart and I first met at a gig. He was hitting the drums as loud as he could to the soundtrack that he composed for Ben-Hur. Scarily, I was conducting the orchestra who were duelling with him. It was like a baked bean and a baked potato had forgotten which one was little and which one was large. From that moment I picked up the baton, I knew that not only is Stewart one of the world's greatest drummers, and not only does he compose like a modern-day maestro, but after 44 years in the music industry, he still has the passion and energy of an 18-year-old.

I'll be honest, it's my first time recording an interview with me being the one asking the questions, so please forgive me: like any good art, it’ll take a while to perfect. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this worldwide whistle-stop tour of Stewart Copeland and his life.

Robert Emery: Okay, so welcome, welcome, welcome. I think the first thing I would like to talk to you about is your slightly crazy childhood because I'm pretty damn sure this has had an effect on what you've done in life later on. I've done a bit of reading and I know you were telling me–we're here somewhere in Europe doing Ben-Hur but we'll talk about that later. I know you were saying the other night about you had a very interesting childhood because, if I've got this right, you were born in the states, you grew up in Lebanon...

Stewart Copeland: You missed out a bit. Egypt.

Robert: Oh did I? Okay, Egypt. But then you went to boarding school in Somerset, then you're in a rock band, and then you ended up back in LA.

Stewart: A couple of steps missing there but fundamentally that’s the story, that's the arc.

Robert: It's a bit of a strange, unusual upbringing. What is the reason for that? How did that happen?

Stewart: My father was a diplomat, otherwise known as a spy. He was, during the war, in the OSS. His job was obviously the Nazis, but as the war was coming to a close, they realised that the Soviets were the real problem. And so even as they were finishing up winning the war together, the Soviets and the Americans, they were getting into the beginning of the Cold War. At that point, the energy from the Middle East was very important and so the CIA... As the OSS was morphing into this new thing called the CIA, my father was down in the Middle East and his job was to make sure that the oil came west to our factories rather than north to the evil empire.

To enact that mission, they imposed dictators upon the people such as when I was born, my daddy was away on business. I was born in Alexandria, Virginia, which is a suburb of the CIA. He was over in Cairo installing Gamal Abdel Nasser who ran Egypt actually pretty well for the Egyptian people. Across the Middle East, in Syria and the other countries, basically, their job was to keep a stable system. They were not interested in social engineering or in democracy; they were interested in stability. All the people of that generation, they were completely comfortable with the concept of dictators otherwise known as monarchs. The idea of absolute power. These people were... My father used to like to describe himself as amoral. He said he would never have anyone assassinated with whom he would mix socially, and I don't think he ever had anyone assassinated either but, you know, he was a storyteller. What did you ask me?

Robert: Just about your childhood. But did you know when you were growing up?

Stewart: That’s why I was there. No, I didn't know any of this growing up. In fact, it didn't seem exotic to me at all. In fact, it seemed to be lacking anything exotic because we didn't have TV and at the American school... I was in Egypt very young, but my memories really begin in Lebanon in Beirut and there was the American Community School. For a while, there was a rumour that in my generation, that's when the Saudis first started sending their young princes to get a Western education: the ACS in Beirut was the western school, the American School in Beirut. From my gen, it was the first time we started to see Arab kids, Gulf state kids, amongst the Westerners who were being educated there and Osama bin Laden was one of those.

Robert: Wow!

Stewart: Many years after me. Of course, if he'd been there when I was there, I would have kicked his ass. But we didn't have TV and the other American kids who had been home more recently would talk about this Xanadu, this fabled place called America. In fact, most people outside of America in my generation heard of America as the shining light on a hill where the streets are clean, and the people are, you know, everything works, and the systems are new and all this stuff, and... Then, gosh, there we were living in dusty old Beirut.

Of course, now looking back on it, I am so glad I grew up in dusty old Beirut. But then my father's best buddy, turned out to be a British double agent, name of Kim Philby, and his whole scene was kind of blown by that blow. My good buddy, Harry Philby, his dad disappeared one night. Two weeks later, he turns up in Moscow. True Blue English, he was recruited in Cambridge and was a mole and rose up in the Mi5 and there was three or four of them, I think. Anyway, my father had to ship his family out just like that. We were there for 10 years and then in a two-week period we are out of there.

I did one term in London, at the American School in London, but ended up in Somerset at Millfield. After that, I went to college in America and then came back to London where I met these other two guys.

Robert: So, it was after you went to the states and then you came back to London and that's where you met the other two guys as you call them. Okay, fine. But when did you start playing the drums?

Stewart: Hard to say. My father was a musician before the war. I’ve still got his trumpet; it's a 1942-con or something, I can't remember the year, I looked up the serial number. The fancy trumpet’s like the SG of its day. He only devotes two or three pages about his jazz life in his book but he played with both Dorsey brothers, Harry James, Glenn Miller–for him that's déclassé.

Robert: You grew up with music around you?

Stewart: When he started a family, he thrust musical instruments into all the kids and I'm the fourth child. By the time I came along, the house was full of abandoned instruments and I picked up all of them and I just was lost on all of them. My father spotted the tell-tale sign of a budding musician, which is “you can't get him to shut up.” Any kid that you have to say, “It's time for your piano practice,” don't waste your time or his time or her time. The tell-tale sign is that kind of autism... that you can't stop the kid, and I was on everything.

Trombone, I think, was the first lessons I had, but I couldn't get to the seventh position. But the buddy of mine had a catalogue, Slingerland drum catalogue, with pictures of drum sets which for me, I was like pictures of power, motors... Really, looking back now, as father of seven, I realise that the drum thing was partly because I was a very late bloomer. All the way through high school, even when I was 12-13, all my mates were growing faster. Their voices dropped, they started growing beards, they started turning into... and I was still that squeaky little kid.

The drums were power. Boom, bam, argh! Suddenly the squeaky little kid, now I'm a big silverback bastard motherfucker coming to eat your children. For a little 12-year-old who was this squeaky little 12-year-old, that was power. Looking back, adding up all the impressions and memories, I remember the first show–actually, the British Embassy Beach Club party at The St George Club. Janet McRoberts was there and I'm playing Don't let me be Misunderstood or an Animals’ or a Kink’s song or whatever, maybe House of the Rising Sun and there's Janet McRoberts on the dance floor with that look. And I thought, “Shit! Whatever this is, this is going to get me somewhere.”

Also, I remember at The American Beach Club, overhearing two of the 15- year-old girls talking. 15-year old girls are just like an impossible dream for a 12-year-old, you know, and they're talking about how Ian Copeland–who was the coolest kid in Beirut, by the way. He was the leader of the motorcycle gang, Ian Copeland was the coolest kid on campus. They’re talking, “Wow, I hear the Black Knights have got a new drummer. Oh, cool,” or hip or whatever. “Yeah, it’s Ian Copeland’s brother. Ian has a brother?” They’re talking about this mythical being, the new drummer in the Black Knights–is he cute? I’m standing there, I’m a little 12-year-old kid standing there with my ice-cream. These 15-year-olds are talking about Stewart Copeland as if it's somebody.

And so, these elemental, deep, crocodile-brain part of the drive, the emotional drive, are very powerful. My theory is that music is basically part of the procreative process of the human being. It's our mating dance. It's our mating ritual. As my mother the archaeologist would say, it's our plumage, and at that young age, particularly at adolescent age, music is so... With my kids, I see that music is so important to them. Here I do it for a living and I still wake up every day and can't wait to make more music but I can get through an hour without hearing music. My kids? It's the young mating dance. So that was a very powerful impulsion to playing drums.

Robert: So, you figured this is a very cool thing to do, you get lots of good attention for this and...

Stewart: Here’s is one more factor. My big brother Ian? Coolest kid on campus? Couldn't do it. Which was very unsettling because one of the American kids... What happened was the Black Knights’ drummer, his dad got shipped back to the states, the drums he was using which are borrowed or something like that were lying... And so they’re, “Well, let's get Ian. Let's get the coolest kid in the school to play the drums.” And he tried to do it and I could hear him in his room, the forbidden sanctuary. I could hear him trying to get it... then he’d roar off on his motorcycle and I’d sneak in on pain of death and I'd get on there, and I can do it. Wait a minute, that's not right, I must be doing it wrong for me to be able to do it what I heard him not able to do, my hero and older brother...

Robert: You didn’t have lessons?

Stewart: Immediately my father spotted, “Ah drums, great! Lessons!” And I had lessons at everything. The minute he spotted anything, “Lessons!” Yeah, right away.

Robert: Something definitely clicked with you with drums.

Stewart: Yeah and they stuck. The guitar kind of stuck, too. I played guitar all my life, never seriously, never took a lesson, never really developed anything beyond my favourite three chords. But those three chords? Ah, you can have a lot of fun on A, E and D. Throw a G in there, F sharp minor even.

Robert: Alright. The interesting thing for me though is that when I was growing up, I played the piano and I played the cello.

Stewart: Cello? Excellent instrument. A great blues instrument, by the way. You put that thing on your lap, play it like this, and it's a fantastic blues instrument.

Robert: But I couldn't do it. It didn't work for me. I just could not...

Stewart: The piano did, though, right?

Robert: The piano, I don't know why. I’d just sit there, play, it was easy, it just happened, you didn't have to think about it, I didn't really do any training to start with. It just happened. But cello, it did not happen. I could not get it to work. So did you try any instruments out when you were young?

Stewart: We’re going to have to work on a theory for that because pianotude you’ve got. That works for you. But two hands interacting to make one note seems to not work for you. I’m the other way around, see? Guitars, no problem. I can work on piano every day and I still can't play Mary Had a Little Lamb so you’ve got that gift.

Robert: Yeah. Yeah, but it's only piano. Piano conducting. But I tried many other things over the years, I tried clarinet for a while, couldn't do it, and it's just so concentrated what I can do with my music–what instruments. You sound like you're the sort of guy who can pick up anything, can give it a good damn go and have a bit...

Stewart: Whether I can or not, I will pick up anything and give it a damn good go.

Robert: And you have lots of instruments at home?

Stewart: I have the world’s largest collection of the cheapest instruments money can buy. I got trombone, I got bassoon. I got timpani. I got clarinet, I got viola, I got violin. I got cello. I got baby cello, I got bass guitar, lead guitar, rhythm guitar, acoustic guitar, banjo. I got all kinds of instruments.

Robert: And you’ve tried them all?

Stewart: Oh, yeah. Well, I get on eBay, then I haven't got a mellophone. So, I get on there and I look for mellophones or euphoniums; I love brass instruments above all. In fact, today I played an Alpine horn which is 15 feet long and guess what? A- Extremely light, made out of bamboo or something. B- really easy to play. Doesn't require a lot of breath at all, it's like playing on a trombone. Very impressed out there... [Makes a trumpeting sound] You know, not that hard.

Robert: Let’s just rewind back in time a little bit. You formed this band called The Police. How long was it from your starting point to all of a sudden something happened where you just went sky high?

Stewart: It was incremental, but every step headlining the marquee felt like a stellar, “That's it. We've made it. That's it, we're done. We're there now!” And then the next step happens and like climbing a mountain you think there's the shoulder there and we just get to there and that's going to be the top of the mountain–you get there and there's more mountain. It was very much like that. But we did star for a good two years, where we were playing the clubs and all of our gigs pretty much were cancellations by the genuine article punk bands of the day. We were a fake punk band. We were using the punk haircut as a flag of convenience because really, it's all about the hairdo. The stance.

Sting and I were both on the cusp, born in the early 50s. We were the tail end of the hippie generation where so by the time we got into our teens and wanted to rock out and be young adolescents or young adults, it was old and stale. Even though we were steeped in it–he was in jazz and I was playing in Curved Air, kind of an art rock band–we were still the tail end of the last generation. It was all stultified and everything, along comes Johnny Rotten and the Punk-O-Rama, and suddenly it’s just “burn it all down, bring it all down.” Musically, I had nothing in common with that except the fact that I like raw aggression in music. I like it. It's comedic actually.

I liked all that and they were like children and so Curved Air was running its course as an art rock band, so no problem. Cut the hair, peroxided blonde, turn my collar up, and let's go punk. And we did but the critics *[18:59] spotted us in a heartbeat as not the real thing. But fortunately, all the real thing, The Clash, The Damned, Eater, The Jam, all these bands, they didn't know how to hire a truck or a PA. They were managed by one of their mates who didn't have a clue, and so most of The Police's early dates were cancellations by other bands. I’d get a call on a Thursday afternoon saying, “Generation X can't make it.” I can. I got a Rolodex, I know three guys with a truck, I know three guys with a PA, I can get that together, I can get out to Islington, pick up that truck, the PA. “Fred, the PA, can you make the date? Sure.” I can pull it together and get that. And so all of our dates were like “not Gen X”...

Robert: I'm going to pressure you on this because I know you say it's incremental and I know you say it's like climbing a mountain, but I still believe that there must be one ... There must be a gem somewhere, a little story, a little something happened which put you on that clear direction.

Stewart: Many.

Robert: What is it? What's the one that comes to mind?

Stewart: If I had to pick out one, it's hard to say the one that was the payoff of all that which would be Shea Stadium where the Beatles played. And when you play at Shea Stadium, that's officially you have conquered America and you're in the footsteps of The Beatles. That was pretty darned exciting and it turned out to be the best show ever. We were a pretty hot band but some nights just really went to another level and we amazed ourselves. Actually, we were pretty full of ourselves most nights, but that was a particularly good night. Our first stadium, too. Then we got sick of stadiums.

Robert: So that was your first stadium, yeah?

Stewart: I think so. It felt like the first anyway but then we got to the top and then stayed there for a couple of albums before we were right at the top. There was no sign of the... The ascent was on a straight line when we threw in the towel because we had that folly of youth. Well, actually it turned out not to be folly. It turned out to be wisdom in a way of, “I don’t need these guys.” Usually when you hear band members say that, you try and advise them against it. But in our case it actually sort of turned out to be a good thing that we threw in when we did. We never saw the other side, the inevitable other side of the parabola. And so when we picked it up 20 years later, our thing was still pristine.

Robert: Crazy. So, you've done many, many things in your life and you've achieved an awful lot and I'll talk about composing in a minute. But first of all, do you have something that you have not yet achieved?

Stewart: Conducting. Watch your back, mate! I've been advised no matter how gifted I think I am, how easy I think it would be, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't. I'm already trying to establish myself as a real conductor.

Robert: Real conductor or...?

Stewart: A real composer. Throw in amateur conductor and the learning curve with that, and there's been a 30-year learning curve with writing for orchestra. I didn't pick this up overnight: I've been working at this and trying to figure this out for decades, and I'm sure conducting would be the same sort of journey. Which I would be really happy to make that journey. I'm in for the long haul on things. I'm good for the long mission. I conduct small-scale all the time–my singers, my soloist when I'm working in the studio, bringing the singers in, and I understand how to breathe for them and so that the indication... There's more than just there it's [breathing loudly] there. Those nuances and I understand the rhythm and I took a conducting seminar and I really enjoyed it. I did a movement of... What the hell was it? It was a big huge Bach movement or something. Not Bach... Anyway, it was fantastic.

Robert: How many players did you have?

Stewart: The musicians union sent about two or three chairs of violins, one of the brass. It was pretty skinny but all the different choirs were represented and it was really, really a lot of fun. The most fun part was that my reading’s much better now than it was then and putting the things in two, three, and... I just love that because the first lesson I’ve learned was the opposite of drumming where you groove and you are the groove and you feel the others... And there, you have to run ahead of the cart and you’re ahead. You’re not grooving with the band; you're pulling them. You're out in front.

Robert: I’ll do you a deal. The next time we do Ben-Hur, and we have time...

Stewart: Ben-Hur is hard.

Robert: Then I get you to conduct that, yeah?

Stewart: Let's do that. I will take you up on that with Tyrant’s Crush.

Robert: Okay.

Stewart: And you can play drums.

Robert: You don't want to see that. You absolutely don't want to see me play drums. I’ve tried before.

Stewart: You threw down the gauntlet.

Robert: Yeah, yeah, yeah, but you said you wanted to conduct. I never said I wanted to play drums. I’m happy playing...

Stewart: What's the quid pro quo here then?

Robert: That I get to laugh at you conduct.

Stewart: Done. Deal. I’d love it. I mean, who's got rehearsal time with 60 highly-paid musicians?

Robert: Okay, so you're a very busy guy and you've achieved a lot, you've conquered a lot, you've had very different aspects of your career, which means that you are a very driven person. You must be a guy who gets...

Stewart: It doesn’t feel like driven.

Robert: No, but you are. You must be.

Stewart: Compared... To me, other people they talk about this thing which is probably just as much as a mystery to you. The strange word, the strange concept called “procrastination.” Can you imagine? I mean, how's it possible to watch TV when you’ve got a mission to do? It's not a matter of being driven, it's just a matter of “there's a mission to do–let's go do that.” TV is for when you haven't got a mission or any... Eating food or sleep is for when you haven't got a mission. It doesn't feel driven or anything, it's just like...

Robert: What are the tips or the tricks or anything that you do to keep yourself energised, to keep yourself going, to get up in the morning to go and do what you need to do? Do you have like a ritual you have every morning for breakfast, or do you...?

Stewart: Well, yes. At my age, I have a ritual for everything because the running repairs on this battered old frame... You just figure out that if I go to bed this time and if I eat that and do this and don't do that, I guess my day is going to be better–and you have all these rituals. But I don't think any of these rituals are connected to motivation. I learned very early in life that daydreaming is a critical activity, that daydreaming isn't just wasting time. In fact watching TV– I'd rather stare out into space and imagine some great fantasy that I get to play my drum for the huge orchestra and I get to write all the music myself! And it goes [triumphant tune] and it's really fantastic. Just imagining this and imagining this...

If you have a daydream that really sticks and you keep going back to it, and you fill in the details of it and to make the daydream work better, you start filling in the details... It has to be realistic so the details that you add need to be substantiated by, “the way I got to being able to play with that big orchestra was that I met this guy. How did I meet a guy? Because I was...” Actually, what you're doing is concocting a scheme as the daydream. If it's a really powerful one that really draws you and you keep chewing on it and going back to it, you're actually working up a plan. Like we get the band with just three guys in it and one of them's got to sing. I have the guitar and the bass player’s... got to be a singer because my singing is terrible. And it'd be great... Before you know it, your daydream is a mission.

Robert: Do you think that has any connection whatsoever with the fact that you're a very talented musician and you've got an amazing gut feeling about music? Do you think the two are interlinked in any way, shape, or form?

Stewart: My oldest brother Miles, he is driven. He's driven, and he has excellent musical ears, but did not get the gift of creating art himself. He is a brilliant receiver of art. He understands the Zeitgeist and he's picked hits and he's had hits after hits after hits that he's had. My other brother Ian as an agent, same thing. Neither of them can play. Ian, the coolest kid in school, tried to play the bass and he can just about, but he did not get that gift. The driven thing...

Robert: So you believe you it is a gift?

Stewart: Yeah, absolutely. It is a gift. I don't know where it comes from, I'm so grateful for it, I'm humbled by the fact that I was granted this. I kiss the ground beneath my feet that I've been granted this gift. I do not feel that I earned it. I do feel an obligation in a way to service it and to... It is such a gift that I feel that it would be a crime for me to let it languish in a way. I don't know where that idea came from. Maybe my daddy taught me that or something.

Robert: Okay. So we’re doing here, in Basel, Ben-Hur...

Stewart: And you are the big orchestra and I get to write the music!

Robert: You’re such a crazy guy.

Stewart: That only took me 64 years to get that.

Robert: You went from being a drummer, a rock star, into a composer. It's a bit of a strange leap. I can't really think of anybody else who has done that...

Stewart: Once again, it wasn’t a leap. It wasn’t A and then a B. It was A– I guess the biggest leap was I got an incoming phone call from Francis Ford Coppola who says, could I come down to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where he's prepping–rehearsing, shooting a movie–and would I come there and just kind of like hang out and talk music and concept and stuff? So I get down there and the cast at that time, they're all kids. Every single one of them has now won an Academy Award. Diane Lane, Matt Dillon, I’m so terrible with names... Laurence Fishburne, Mickey Rourke, all of them. Dennis Hopper, they've all... But they were just kids; that's a diversion.

Anyway, so he just wanted to talk music and I got in there. Okay, I'm a little bit obsessive, and I said great. We talked high concept and he had this idea that... the reason he called me is time ticking, I remember like high noon... I want this teleological, inexorable movement of time with rhythm concept. You know, I love concept. Daydream: the result, the produce, the fruit of daydreams.

Robert: So he called you because he realised that the rhythm was such an important part and...

Stewart: Because his 18-year-old son says, “Dad, you gotta call Stewart Copeland from the Police.”

Robert: Okay, and then...

Stewart: And he did and I got in there, we bonded and his deal is that he finds people that he just senses has something, and he gives them their voice. He doesn't direct them. Oliver Stone told me every single note, “What's that note mean?” But Francis, once he got a connection, you're on the wavelength, he just turns you loose which he did and I had to figure out myself how to score a movie. Which I played that one all myself and I played mallards and weird guitar parts and funny little sounds. For them, since I didn't know how you do it, I had to invent the wheel for myself which is another word for–others applied this term and I was happy to accept it–revolutionary. That's not how you're supposed to do it but it's still...wow, that worked.

But at one point he did turn around and say, “I need some emotion. I need strings,” and immediately alarm bells, he's going to get some schlock artist in here, who’s going to like string... Francis, I got that. Yeah, you're right. We need some strings.

Robert: And that was the first time you'd worked with an orchestra?

Stewart: Yes.

Robert: So, you threw yourself into it at the deep end?

Stewart: Oh no, I’ve played in the school band.

Robert: Okay, yeah, but I mean as a professional... You threw yourself into the deep end as a composer who...

Stewart: I had these chords that I had worked out and I can play them one at a time. Okay that chord, okay stop the tape. Okay, play that chord and when it comes to the next chord it's... Okay roll the tape... Bang! And I can do that kind of thing. So for strings, all I had was footballs. Holders [singing sound]. I didn’t know how to write anything else. So, the first question is I call up a contractor and he says okay how many strings would you like? I go, how many? I don’t know. Strings.

Robert: Just strings.

Stewart: Strings. How many is strings? He says, Well, two guys is strings but it’s going to sound like two guys. If you want like I guess what Francis wants is a big wash of emotion. I don’t know, I think we ended up with maybe a dozen-20 guys, something like that. Somebody else looked at the chords and put it on a chart properly and I'm going, Yeah, I remember that from school. I actually did learn in college–I was at the California School of Performing Arts where I learned figured bass harmony and the fundam...

Robert: Figured bass, the most boring thing in the world ever.

Stewart: That's as far as I got.

Robert: If anybody out there doesn't know what figured bass is, don't even bother trying to Google it.

Stewart: It's critical.

Robert: No, it's not. It used to be critical. It’s now very, very boring and confusing.

Stewart: No. But what it did tell me is to not just do a barre chord up and down the neck like that, like a guitarist would do, and it tells you that you can use inner voices, let everything move in a different direction, and so on and so forth.

I was in a music school with other kids who'd studied the piano since the age of seven and I was the runt of the litter. One day she said, “Okay everybody, here's your homework. Write 16 bars.” Well-voiced chords for 16 bar. I had a million tunes in my head so I figured out something that I already and figured out applying the rules that I’d learned in her class to something I already had and she goes to the class and she plays okay by Johnny and she plays Johnny’s piece. Yeah, very good. Okay, yeah, good. Okay, Stewart... You’ve got a parallel fifth there and you haven't really resolved that but it’s kind of interesting the way that doesn't resolve there and resolves here. Now, you're not supposed to do this here, but there's kind of that note there. This would be what I would teach next year.

Robert: I remember this from being a kid.

Stewart: Yeah, and she finally ends up with, “Stewart, this is an actual piece of music.” And that totally at the bottom of the class, everyone just... They can sight read, they've done their ear training... I was just trying to become... I was starting at college age to learn the fundamental building blocks of music where everyone else in class had started much younger. I might have started playing music very young, but understanding the building blocks, the DNA of it.

So, as long as I was there. When I went to University of California in Berkeley, I didn't get into the music school. They gave me the ear training test and they played eight bars of a tune and transcribe it. They play me an interval, identify it, all this stuff: fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail. I studied instead, mass communication and public policy.

Robert: Mass communication and public policy!

Stewart: That's how I conquered the world.

Robert: Holy crap. Okay.

Stewart: Much more useful. If I had actually gotten into that music department at UC Berkeley, I would now be the timpanist in the Ohio Symphony.

Robert: Okay, so I'm going to try and back you into a corner here for something because you told me you've got a kind of philosophy about something. I forget what the phrase is that you use but something to do with being dumb.

Stewart: The dumb shit.

Robert: There you go. It’s the dumb shit. Okay. Can you just explain that?

Stewart: Well, artists, for instance, have very bad taste in whatever their art form is because we're slobs. The popular music, I hear it and I can dance. I don't mind it, I like it I guess. But what I really seek out are the things that are a little challenging that put a gimp on it that are .... I don’t mind pop music, I love it like everybody else. But what I seek out is something a little beyond and so I'll miss a hit.

My brothers... That's a hit! They can identify it and so on. I'm a little bit further out there. So, when I'm writing music or working on something, my manager will come and say, Stewart, that’s great but what's that? That's the best part! You see...Then like, you call it the best part–sounds like a wrong note to me. Oh. And I have to reconsider–it's the dumb shit. Actually that’s dumb ass. Sorry.

Robert: Dumb ass and dumb shit.

Stewart: Totally different things. Sorry, sorry, forgive me. I’m going to finish dumb ass first. So, he comes in with dumb ass in comprehending, unsympathetic to how many hours I've put into that artistic revelation. I need a dumb ass every now and then to come and pop my bubble and say, “I'm sure it's really on some intellectual plane, I hear what you're saying.” You need your bubble popped every now and then. Every artist needs some dumb ass, usually provided by spouses.

Robert: Okay. Yes. My experience...

Stewart: You get some dumb ass at home? Careful, careful, careful. Who’s in the corner now, bitch?

Robert: Yeah, you got me. Yeah, fair enough. She’s going to kill me.

Stewart: Let's talk dumb shit.

Robert: Dumb shit.

Stewart: Let's get into some dumb shit. A good example of dumb shit. I played the Letterman Show, big national American TV show and it's drum solo week. So I go in to play a drum solo and I have a piece of music that I wrote for a ballet, I work up a chart for the Tonight Show band and they're cracking players, those guys. We work up a thing and play, and I play my drum solo and at the end it took a lot of music to build that thing. Format, the piece of music, the writing, there’s the education writing, the charts that I practice. Years, a life in music went into making that thing–serious application, a vocation. And at the end of it... throw the sticks up there [swishing sound].

Well, go on social media, how'd that go down? It's all about the [swishing sound] Did you see how he threw the drumsticks? Yeah, wow, the drumsticks... That Copeland man it’s like he plays with these... the drumsticks!

It’s the dumb shit. No matter how much vocation went into every other aspect of that performance, it was the dumb shit.

Robert: It is the dumb shit that the audience identified.

Stewart: It’s something that stands out. I mean, I’m sure they were very impressed by everything else, they wouldn't have been impressed by the thing unless they were impressed by all the rest of it subliminally, but the thing that caught their eye and that they're talking amongst themselves about is that odd little piece of nothing, that throwaway little something.

Robert: Okay, so here comes the corner. You like the dumb shit, the audience likes the dumb shit, but you don't write music which is dumb shit. You write music which is not always easily accessible. It can be but not always. It's very intelligent music.

Stewart: You're answering your own question.

Robert: No, I'm not because I don't get it. If you know an audience likes dumb shit, why don't you write dumb shit?

Stewart: Here's the two things going on. Remember how here's the main stream of where everyone else and I'm kind of running parallel and not quite bull's eye level? That's me here, see? All the dumb shit’s here, see? Up here, trying to connect with that thing, occasionally I throw in some dumb shit and that's the connection. And I understand that my music is a little astringent for some, perhaps. What I find to be a comfortable easy place in musical atmosphere might be not... Sort of disturbing or not... People gravitate towards feeling good and what makes me feel good sometimes it makes other people feel sad.

Robert: But why are you not...

Stewart: As a professional film composer, I got pretty good at identifying exactly what chord has... You know, this is happy, that’s sad, this is happy sad, and this is sad. There's a big difference, believe it or not. Now, as a technician, I understand perfectly how to go for this emotion or that emotion but my personal taste is you describe it as being slightly off centre and I'm flattered. I take that as a compliment.

But the dumb shit is to drop the barrier, to break the ice, to welcome aboard... I use it as a way to break the ice. Instead of being alienated... Oh, that was weird. Oh, ha-ha-ha, that's kind of funny at least, or whatever. So, I’d be careful that I have first of all, I do my thing, then I get a little dose of dumb ass... Telling me, dude, this is like a little out there, and then reminded by dumb ass, then I go and apply some dumb shit.

Robert: And then it makes everybody happy.

Stewart: Well, it makes me happy. It seems to work. I've played my... I’ve used it in front of really adverse audiences and seemed to get a result.

Robert: You're so good at answering questions, I genuinely can't tell whether I managed to back you into that corner successfully, or whether you wriggled out of it. But I don’t care. You’re very good at it.

Stewart: That's the briar patch. Please don't throw me into the briar patch. No, not the briar patch. Oh, you're throwing me into the briar patch! No, no, no. Okay.

Robert: Tell me. 20 years’ time, what's the business going to be like? What do you think is going to be happening with orchestras, with pop, rock music? 20 years’ time, what would be your prediction?

Stewart: I don't know how orchestras will survive but I would say that they will probably be branded and that because they have a champagne quality that applies sophistication to a product, that they will be useful as... and hopefully government institutions will recognise the value of here's an art form, here's a body of our culture that cannot sustain itself commercially. It cannot. An orchestra, 60 guys or 90 guys or 110 guys, they cannot sustain themselves as a commercial enterprise. They need either private donations or government donations. Where’s the world going to be in 20 years? I would suspect that orchestras will be, as they are now, be vehicles of what they can do, which is impart dignity upon a product.

Robert: Okay, and what about rock, pop?

Stewart: It will always be here. It always has been, always will be. For rhythm... Simple EAD chords, all the revolutions of music. It’s all about the haircut, change the haircut, change the style of music, first you grow it long and then you cut it short. I remember my mom saying, “Stewart, why can't you have long hair like all the other nice boys and girls?” Because mine was like [scraping sound] peroxide. Everything about my outward appearance said, “Fuck you, I'm going to eat your children.” That was the intent. Whereas I was a little soft little...

Robert: Oh, you were a timid soul inside. Bless you. All right, so that's your prediction. Just jumping back a bit.

Stewart: Well, here's the thing. There will always be rock music because if there isn't rock music, there will not be sex, and if there is not sex, there will not be anybody. It’s a part of our natural process.

Robert: It is now, but what...

Stewart: It always has been.

Robert: Well, you say that, but what about when Beethoven was around?

Stewart: When Beethoven was around was not early.

Robert: Beethoven was the kind of rock music of his day. I mean, he was so challenging when he wrote some of his music, and I'm sure that would have been the element of it.

Stewart: I suspect that Beethoven was not the rock music of his day. I suspect that Beethoven was the pampered servant of rich people and their sophisticated sublimated carnal desires. But out there on the streets of his town, the people were dancing into the streets, not to Bach music. That's my suspicion, I just made that up. That’s going to be a guess. Your readers or your listeners will write in and say, No, no, no, not sex. But I'm sure popular music of his day would have been rhythmic and would have been dancing and would have given the male of the species and the female of the species an opportunity, an impulsion and an audio permission to thrust their pure dander at each other, and to display their genetic superiority through body motion inspired by music. That's what music is.

Mozart? Bach? Those are sophistications like many other of our crocodile- brain behaviours. Are sophisticated and turned into a high form; humans do this. We take fire and we turn it into a jet or the internal combustion engine. That's what we do to fundamental building blocks of physics, that's what we do. And the fundamental building blocks of our music, which is part of our libido, which is part of our mating dance, you can develop that and it turns out the combination of physics, the human mind and sex produces high forms of art. But that's not what's really going on. Those are like the caveman drew on the painting because he had... High art painting is not necessarily where it came from, but that throb, rock ‘n’ roll, Bach was not that. Bach was not rock 'n' roll. He's like the rock star of his time. That's his position in society but that's not the function of his music.

Robert: Yeah, but for instance, Paganini who of course...

Stewart: He was popular.

Robert: Yes, he was like the rock star of his time and he went bankrupt...

Stewart: And Mozart too, by the way, was in the streets and inspired by music the people were actually dancing to.

Robert: And Vivaldi Four Seasons, it's incredible music but...

Stewart: I'm surprised that they have any population in Europe at all. I'm surprised that they’re here... In fact, my whole theory, I'm just here begging to throw it all because I just made it up anyway as I was talking. Out the window. You see, Europe would be depopulated now if they were trying to procreate to the sound of Vivaldi. If that's the only reason humans procreate, is Vivaldi, we would have been fucked.

Robert: That's a brilliant quote. That's going to be the headline quote on this podcast. Great, okay, fine... Who knows, who knows? It’s a prediction about what’s happening in 20 years’ time...

Stewart: Get this. Who would have ever (thought) that the most effective music that gets right to the deepest part and releases all social training and everything and gives young males and young females of our species utter permission is a mechanised rhythm that comes from a machine. [EDM sounds] To the extent that it’s human is to the extent that it's less effective in releasing the libido and permitting these behaviours that would be utterly unacceptable without the presence of a strong beat.

In fact, people standing in a room, they’re not interested in procreating. There's music going but they're not even thinking about it. Their body’s moving to it. There's more to it than meets the eye. There's something deeply physiological, something evolved very deeply in our human behaviour.

Robert: Okay. And you yourself, you live quite a simple life, you don’t have a big empire with 100 orchestrators and...

Stewart: No. I don't have an engineer. I used to. All the people of my generation, their work day begins when the engineer shows up and when the engineer “got to go home to see my family,” then the artist, that's the end of his working day.

Robert: And this is kind of a bit of an ethos of yours, is keep it small, keep it to yourself.

Stewart: Absolutely. The Police was three guys and it was designed that way. I wanted this... Let it be three guys. And I have my own record company that I did my gosh darned self... What's the cheapest studio in London? Pathway, an eight-track studio. Well, let's go there, and I call the guy and I chisel him down. Yes, strip it back and strip it back so that you've got manoeuvrability is the main thing.

Robert: But do you not think though, if you have more people working with you, collaborating, working for you, that you can achieve more in life because more people are doing the stuff that you don't necessarily need to do?

Stewart: Actually, that has been someplace that I'm getting to. I am in the process of arriving at that happy place where I can give it up. All during my young Pac Man years and adulthood, I've always been very greedy of artistic “boss hood.” I want to play every instrument myself, and I want to record everything myself, and I want to mix it myself, and I don't want anything to happen with me out of... I got to be in it, I want to be into everything. The video-I want to make the video, and the video should be like this and it should be... Just like the idea of not owning every aspect of it is kind of alien.

But now with the passage of time, I've discovered that like a producer is really cool because all I have to do is do this and then he has to clean up the tapes and figure it out and do all this stuff. I've learned to give it up, to let other people play with the ball, and the results can be really good. In a band, you collaborate. I'm not talking about a band collaboration because there, it's a corporate identity and I feel that I don't have to do everything in the band, but the band has to do everything. The band has to decide on the album cover, the band has to decide what the video is going to be about. We're not going to have anybody tell us what to... And so in a band, it's a corporate identity. The band is me, it's my band, even though there's two other guys who call it their band. For each of us, it's my thing.

The thing that I will never have, even as much as I'm prepared to give it up artistically, I will never acquire an empire. I have no need and no desire for an empire. I look at fellow composers who have built empires, some very effectively. One of my erstwhile competitors, Hans Zimmer who’s a big film composer and he does incredible work...

Robert: He’s Swiss, of course. Swiss.

Stewart: Is he?

Robert: Yes.

Stewart: Of course, is he? I always thought he was German or Austrian but okay, Swiss. He has an empire. He has 10 guys. He learned to give it up. I don't have to write every bar. Or he writes the theme and I don't have to apply it to this unit, apply that theme to... I can have somebody do it for me, then check it. Then when he's done all the donkey work–of here's the start time, there's the art time, this is the BPM that lands on the chord and does all the... The craftsmanship part of it. He’s written a tune and that’s the art. Then the craftsman applies it to the scene and then the artist comes by and says, okay that works but you know what I'm going to do... And so he gets all the fun part.

But he has to give it up and let other people do it. He has to hire those guys and to hire those guys, he needs an empire, and to feed an empire, he doesn't actually go and get to be an artist as much as I would need to be. He has to take a lot of meetings, he has to get every action picture that's being made, he needs to get that work to sustain his empire. He can't like take a job every now and then like an independent... Like when I was doing that, I was independent. A job every two months would feed my family. He needs every movie being made, he needs to have like three or four Triple A action pictures in his studio being made at all times, or else having that Empire...

Robert: And that doesn’t interest you.

Stewart: In one sense, you can turn things over and like that. On the other sense, running the empire. There's a difference between having an empire and having a collaboration, and letting the creative ball, letting other people play with the ball sometimes.

Robert: Okay and one of your balls, of course, is Ben-Hur, the reason why we’re here. You wrote the music for the live performance that happened and launched at The O2 Arena a few years ago and now you've set it to play and run with the edit you did for the 1925 film. Do you have any other projects and films that you would like to do that? Have you ever seen another silent movie and you’ve thought, I'd love to score a film and... Or is Ben-Hur such a special thing for you that that's the one that's...

Stewart: Well, Ben-Hur came and got me. It was an incoming call to score as a hired gun composer, to score a stage production of Ben-Hur. I did that, the show ran its course. A huge, huge behemoth of a show. Started in The O2 Arena in London and it ran its course. And then I wanted to do the concert and so I found the 1925 film and that became a different journey. It's sort of like it came for me. I didn't select that film.

But other films, I've looked at some other films by Fred Nibler the director, but there’s just such a... It's such a huge... It took three years and it was kind of fun and I could easily do another one. Not right away, because I'm having too much fun with Ben-Hur. I mean, I haven't finished playing Ben-Hur yet. I also write opera, in year three of an opera that I'm writing for Chicago in Long Beach. I'll get around to do another film one day, I suppose.

Robert: Okay. All right. So, last thing. I’m 32-33 actually. I can’t even remember my own age now.

Stewart: You're bit young to be lying about your age, pretending you don't know how old you are.

Robert: What advice would you give somebody like me who is hungry, relatively young, passionate about what I do, and I want to make sure that when I'm a little bit older that I'm still hungry, passionate about what I do? What general sage advice would you give me, because I know you’re like a grand papa...

Stewart: Stu-daddy!

Robert: Stu-daddy! Do you have anything that you look at me, you’ve worked with me now for the past week...

Stewart: Well, I would say having worked over the last week, I would say that you have a couple of gifts that will take you where you want to go. You also have a surfeit of energy which takes you into empire building, we have discussed this. For your viewers, there's a backstory here: I've been lecturing this young man about casting aside the empire and getting on with the music because you don't want to end up like a man who I respect deeply but do not want to be like Hans Zimmer. Where he spends all his time in meetings, having to do the “not music” part of the enterprise.

I would say that at your age, you've got energy to burn, so go ahead build an empire. But I suspect that one day you will start getting that empire out of your life. There’s been a couple of times we've been on the streets, we were on the Swiss Riviera the other day and you're walking around the streets and you're on the phone dealing with something. I don't know what you were dealing with, but it looked important. Without an empire, I don’t have anything to deal with. I'm enjoying the day. [He whistles]

Robert: Very chilled.

Stewart: There you are, young man, young Pac Man.

Robert: Can that be my nickname from now on for you? You just call me Pac Man.

Stewart: Yeah

Robert: I like that. That’s very retro.

Stewart: Well, I have sons, several who are older than you.

Robert: You have seven children.

Stewart: I have seven children.

Robert: Boy.

Stewart: Yeah. Four boys and then three girls, and I'm proud to say that some of my sons are also Pac Men.

Robert: Yeah. So you like Pac Man?

Stewart: Well, that's what I try to raise them to be. At this age, from 25 to 35, that's your chance. Take no prisoners, just remorseless, just bite off as much as you can get and do it while you've got no baggage and just you know... Fight, scramble and then there will come a point where you want to put down roots and take it a bit easier, and that's called midlife crisis.

What the crisis is all about is you realise that that's the peak. That's where your youthful vigour got you and the rest of your life is the result of that 10 years span. That 10 years is setting up what the rest of your life will be. I would say, you asked for a piece of advice, focus your attention on the things that you know you'll still want to be doing–which apply to your gift, not to your acumen.

Robert: Okay. Well, I'll see you tonight on the stage.

Stewart: Absolutely.

Robert: Thanks, mate.

Stewart: We’re going to rock the house.

Robert: Thank you very much.

Stewart: In your bare feet.

Robert: Yeah.

Robert: Hey, it's me again. Sorry to bug you but as this is a new podcast, I need your help.

If you enjoyed listening to the fun I had with Stewart and you'd like more, then please head over to thebackstageblog.com, sign up and receive the next podcast directly to your inbox. It's also crucial that you get as many friends on and off social media to take a listen by sending them a link to the show.

Now, remember, this episode is brought to you with the help of Lat_56, the smart, sharp and efficient baggage company. So, until the next time, appreciate the music and the musicians will appreciate you.

Show notes

Stewart's Father, Miles Copeland Jr., is a spy [03.51]

Key points from Stewart’s childhood [04:45]

His father’s best buddy was Kim Philby, a double-agent. [07:20]

Stewart took up drums partly because he was a late bloomer. [10:03]

Why he believes that music is part of the procreative process of the human being. [12:07]

When his father spotted his talent, Stewart was signed up for drum lessons. [14:00]

The Police was modelled as a punk band and enjoyed huge success after Shea Stadium. [17:02]

A grand aspiration: Stewart would love to conduct a large orchestra. [22:00]

Stewart and Robert strike a deal for the next Tyrant’s Crush performance. [24:04]

The biggest leap from drummer to composer happened when Stewart got a phone call from Francis Ford Coppola. [29:15]

How he failed to get into the music school at University of California, Berkeley. [35:19]

A lesson in Stewart’s philosophy of the dumb shit and the dumb ass. [36:10]

Stewart’s prediction for the music industry in 20 years’ time. [42:16]

Another theory: without rock music, there will not be sex. [44:06]

If the only reason humans pro-create is Vivaldi, we would all be fucked. [47:03]

Stewart has no desire for an empire. [51:10]

Selected links from the episode

thebackstageblog.com

Miles Copeland Jr.

Kim Philby

The Police

The Black Knights

Ben-Hur

Francis Ford Coppola

Shea Stadium

Tyrant’s Crush

Hans Zimmer

Lat_56 

Books, Music and Videos that feature Stewart Copeland

Strange Things Happen: A life with The Police, polo and pygmies - an autobiography from Stewart covering everything you need to know

Dare to Drum - a story of the rock star composer teaming up with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra

Ben Hur live by Stewart Copeland - a CD performed by the Slovak National Symphony Orchestra

Orchestralli (+ bonus) - a 2 disk set of Copeland performing in concert with a select group of classical musicians on tour in Italy

Gizmodrome - a record of Copeland’s latest band, featuring Mark King (Level 42), Adrian Belew (ex King Crimson, David Bowie, Frank Zappa, Talking Heads) and Vittorio Cosma (PFM and Elio e le Storie Tese).

The Police: Everyone Stares - The Police Inside Out - DVD filmed on Super-8 giving an insider’s view of the band’s rise to fame and eventual split.

Related & Recommended Posts

[fmdxjerome]

*naomi pokes her head in after disappearing for the 600th time* bonjour 

family things where the reason i was so m.i.a. this past week. but i’m here now and i’m going to follow and unfollow people. update some things (like points, plots and tag lists) and head into ims. the good things. sorry i keep disappearing, it’s a weird time. i hope you all are doing good though. people who i have not talked to yet, i’m sorry i still haven’t introduced myself to you all. i’ll gradually work on this. people who i plotted with before, you know i’m gradually trying to get back to that too. i’m very out of the loop with everything.

though! working on some things. writing, photoshop, things, yeah.

but that aside i kinda wanted to take the space of this ooc post to elaborate on the headcanon i wrote yesterday? because? wow. uh. what the hell was that. i wont talk about the topics of the story itself so dont worry if they are triggering to you, i wont be mentioning anything in here.

i just. i started writing the headcanon because my inspiration for anything else was nil. i had things done for my starter (things that had to go out before it for the starter to make sense) and i was preparing to write but nothing came out. and i saw the days ticking by then so i thought “a headcanon will give me something to put out as i dont want to loose jerome but also don’t want to go on hiatus again”. i thought it’ll be like 1000 words and just explain seulgi and chanyeol a bit but it turned into that. i kinda got sucked into it. like, very badly. i wrote it in two days and two nights with little sleep and a lot of tears and it fucked me up but not in a bad way persay (not in a good way either but). after my hiatus i’ve been all kinds of weird with jerome? i haven’t known how to put him out there and advertise him as a cool dude to new and old people in here and i blame my mood for that? because when i was all meme kid 2000 it was easier to thrust him into people’s dm’s, but then after the hiatus i’ve been so goddamned serious about everything that even the funny posts i try to make dont make it to the blog because i think about them too much? (honestly. i have a backlog of memes guys.). then i write that, start writing that with the beginning and end in mind and it’s so goddamned dark but it gets my emotions out and makes me feel more intrigued to flesh out jerome. it relieves me a bit. 

because the thing about jerome is that family is one of the most important things for him. and exploring chanyeol, who had everything jerome had wanted when he grew up (to be raised by a mother who looked like him and loved him), made me find jerome again. it’s the comparing of lives that do it, how two brothers that came from the same prompt live such different lives because of the polarizing answers their mothers gave to one of the hardest question in life. but then again they have so much the same; the drinking, the faces, the laughs, the ridicule, and so much more. they’re more like twins than they are brothers, just years apart and not quite the same.

(there is a reason why *if you read the story* i pinned their situations against each other often, give the perspective of jerome’s life whilst giving context to chanyeols)

and i dont know if jerome will ever know about chanyeol, meet seulgi, find a connection with his mother, feel a bond with his sibling (who’s connection form is almost done, i’m hoping for a sister) or find the bad of himself in his father but it’s the start of exploring this part of jerome’s life, his bloodlines, that get me so much more into jerome’s story. because it is such an important piece in his life.

and look, you might think “but thats marie!” if you look over his blog or read his bio (please dont. its ugly.), that she’s the most influential thing in jerome’s character as she’s the one who basically created “yuddy”. and yeah, she’s important. he still gets anxious when she teeters with the information only they know and still gets furious when he sees her face. but it’s family that starts it all. 

he wouldn’t be as searching for warmth if it wasn’t for the fact that he views himself to be abandoned when just a baby, which his mother did with all the heart break in her heart. he wouldn’t be as proving and intense if it wasn’t for the fact that he feels like he has just one moment to cement himself in someone’s memory as something to desire (whether its about music, lust, love, etc.). he wouldn’t be as afraid of loosing important people in his life if he hadn’t lost the most important one of all.

also, he wouldn’t be as natural with the flirting and the charming smirks if it wasn’t for the fact that his father had that natural allure to him, too. had that bad treatment, too. had that booming confidence, too. and had that selfishness, too. (i villainize chanwook a lot. but he was just a guy who didn’t like commitments, he wants the fun and nothing else. hmm doesn’t that sound familiar.)

yuddy was a reaction to marie, but made possible because of chanwook. hey, thats pretty deep.

anyway, what also was interesting with exploring chanyeol was the fact that jerome’s biggest wish was to be able to look at someone and recognize himself in it. with his adoption family he obviously couldnt do that. and to add another layer in his hometown there were no korean faces, no ethnicity he could belong to. (i dont know how it is in legit laval and martigné-sur-mayenne as i am just a dumb kid who only has the internet to find things out BUT as i live in a western european town *obliviously naomi you’re dutch* thats pretty big and those towns arents the biggest i can use my own experiences and grab the data/information i can find on the internet to create young!jerome’s school and daily life environment.) but he could live with that if he just had a mother or/and a father he could look up to and see himself. there have been days where he’s been bullied for the shape of his eyes or the colour of his skin, there have been days where he’s been fetishized for them too, and if he was allowed to look up at his mother he could see the same pairs of eyes stare back at him. and if he’d look at his father he’d see the same coloured skin. he’d feel more at ease. but he sees blonde hair and peachy skin instead, sees hazel eyes and different noses. add a DEEPER layer and he can’t seem to find where he gets his ugly wide laugh from, or his aggression when provoked. the gentle touch to the things he loves. the intensity of passion. the greed of selfishness. he doesn’t know where the traits come from, who gives him those traits, or if they are purely his own. and he truly wished he did.

and with that as he stands on stage now he is unaware that he makes two women cry every night. blissfully unaware that he has two mothers look at him and see the man that left them but see their missed sons too. he knows nothing of that, and so he knows nothing of the impact he’s making with simply existing. (boram looking at jerome is still very ambiguous in my mind though as her kid can appear in roleplay but seulgi’s view is pretty cemented)

okay shit this kind of turned into some weird exploration of jerome? i started writing this like 6 hours ago what the hell. i’m so slow. maybe this is helping me too with making that re-introduction thing i still have to make. great. well what you can take from this is that jerome has a definite baseline when it comes to his personality and i explored that in chanyeols story where he was the one who got it yet felt undeserving of it?

it’s affection. his baseline is affection. his baseline is warmth. for him as a person, a real person, his person. and not for anything else. and it’s nice to look at the people that gave that to him, the people that didn’t and the reasons behind it.

his biological mother couldn’t give it to him because she gave him away before she could. (the only exception being the first moment in the hospital room 26 years ago.)

his biological father couldn’t give it to him seeing as he didn’t even care to know him.

his adoptive parents couldn’t give it to him as they only saw him as a prop next to jade vases and ricepaper fans.

his first love marie couldn’t give it to him even when he thought she could, but then in time he realized she never loved him for him. realized she never loved him at all.

his grandfather has given it to him, as he sang with him to old tunes and learned him how to cook. his grandmother did too before she fell away.

frederic and halit gave it to him, freddy when he cemented himself as his first closest friend and halit when he pulled him along and shared his family with him. they both gave him a home, and they both gave him the concept of best friends.

julien too gifts it to him now, as he has poked through the shields that is yuddy and has never stopped grasping at the heart that is jerome.

its interesting. it’s all interesting and i’m kind of content that i threw this headcanon out there? or wrote it. (even if not many people will probably read it because of the content matter or because its dumb long or other reasons) because its really a start for me to explore jerome other sides more, the other important things. with the marie story half way finished and her changing in severity in his life, it’ll be interesting to further explore the facet that hurt jerome the most. bloodlines.

ok i got to stop because literally no one is having time for my wall of mess i mean wall of text and its getting way too late/early whilst i wanted to reply to some dms so im just going to grab my phone and start typing there. until i fall asleep. which honestly can be in a few minutes as today was stressful (my cat couldnt poop and i cried lol i’m actually a mess.) 

ALSO if you read the story, the program seulgi watched when she saw jerome for the first time was You Hee-yeol's Sketchbook when DEAN was on. and the songs she heard where HALF MOON (D) and ORDINARY PEOPLE. (which are probably one of my favourite performances of dean.) easter egg. or something like that i dont know-

ok naomi out

*uses a gif of my sweet winter child as i haven’t used one in ages*

[ithoughtyouweredifferent]

Part 8: New York New Me

Requested by: Sort of @ocean-marina Line Request: “No fucks given. Next please,” and “Just come home alive…okay?” @i-cant-even-superwholock-anymore A/NL yes, this was formerly posted on @imagineimeliza but was removed-I am ImageineI’mEliza but because this fic was going on for so long, it doesn’t belong on a one-shot maybe 2 parter blog! Word Count: 2,800ish

Chapter 7

Table of Contents  

Chapter 9(link also at bottom)

When Lin had gotten on a plane bound for London, you were certain that you’d never see him again, you doubted you’d ever contact him again, and you found it unlikely he would even hold true to his offer of listening for better job openings for you to apply to. You were wrong on all accounts but one. Email became your friend once again as you talked to him while he was across the sea he would complain about this and that but then tell you a piece of overwhelmingly excited news and for the first few months there was a link to so a friend he had somewhere that had an opening for a job he thought you might want to take and you sent in your resume to all of them, you got more calls back than you had dreamed of.

You weren’t surprised when July came with a letter saying that you had been let go from the school. You got the letter the same day that you were due to set out for a fancy schmancy museum up north that seemed fairly promising. Knowing you weren’t going to have a check coming in anytime soon was worry some but motivated you all the more to exceed expectations and land this position. It had excellent opportunities for growth, it was by far better pay than what you made now even factoring in the higher cost of living, hopefully, it would be something you would do for a long time.

With a lovely letter that summed up to say “you’re out of a job,” on the counter, you threw your bag into your backseat and hit the road, a fifteen-hour drive to a fifteen-minute interview that hopefully would come through. You had a small hotel room booked in advance that you wouldn’t get to until 1am at best but it would be somewhere to sleep and then freshen up for the interview and wait at for the next three days while attending a few other promising interviews in the area. Lin promised that the people at all four for the places you had on this trip were relatively fast working and you would know if you’d made the cut within the week.

It was with confidence and hope fueled by reopened dreams you had all but abandoned that you had landed your job as a curator for the New York Historical Society. You had a week to get settled here before you started. It turned out to be more of an overpaid intern position beneath the real curators, but you would grow and prosper here. When you got the call saying you had the job it was disheartening to realize that you didn’t have anyone to share the good news with. All you did was send an email to the friend who got you here, a friend probably asleep due to time zone differences, a friend who now that he had fulfilled his promise to listen for an opening for you would fall out of touch. But it was a friend for now and that knowledge only strengthened your resolve to make this new position in this new city something you would share with others

“T 23 15, ivory and ink, hand-crafted maybe late 18th-century cup, 3 cm tall five cm diameter at rim and base seven cm diameter at largest,” you looked at the small sketch you had made beside the location and description biting your lip. You had been trying to find this piece for a good twenty minutes, it wasn’t on the shelf it was supposed to be, not the entire case that it might be, you’d gone down the case in front of, behind, to the left, and the right of where it was supposed to be just in case it had been originally put in the wrong place but now you were going to have to add it to the list of artifacts that you would have to look for when you searched the entire room top to bottom for items that had been completely misplaced.

Three years you’d been in the city, two and a half years you’d fit in with your coworkers and enjoyed life, two years without talking to anyone but them - people from your teaching days had faded out of your life just like people from college had. Almost immediately.

“Hey Y/N, we’re all headed out for lunch today, you coming?” Tanya called popping her head in, she had become one of your best friends quickly and easily.

“Ummm I’m actually a bit behind, who’s turn is it to stay  today?” You asked, “Joe right?” she nodded, “Tell him I’ll cover him today if he’ll take it from me next time,” you offered and she gave you a thumbs up, before darting out the door while you went back to inventory. There were so many amazing things here and they were always rotating in and out so there was always more to find. You thought that the idea of enjoying your job was nothing more than that, an idea, but you were wrong. You enjoyed coming to work every day, when you skipped going with friends to lunch it wasn’t because if you left you would be miserable the whole time knowing you had to come back, it was because you didn’t want to leave. Of course, there were downsides, but you loved enough of it that those didn’t matter. You had a routine and you were happy with it.

Looking back at your clipboard you began looking for the next item which was where it belonged thankfully. As were the next several, you had gotten back into your rhythm when you heard the bell over the door jingle, they shouldn’t be back so soon,

“Hello, is anyone in here?” you heard someone call, not many people knew about this door,

“Yes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” you told them wondering who was using the back door that didn’t already know the place like the back of their hand.

“How can I help you today?” You asked as you rounded the corner,

“Yes I was wondering if-,”

“Lin?” you gasped in shock when you looked up at his face for the first time and he looked you over in confusion for half a second before you found yourself engulfed in a smothering hug, “oh my,” you yelped in shock but hugged him right back

“Y/N? I can’t believe you’re here, what’re you doing?  How’ve you been? Are you-”

“Woah one question at a time, I can’t handle three years of questions in one breath,” you said pulling out of his hug, he smelled exactly like you remembered,

“God I’ve missed you,“

“Same here, wow three years. Doesn’t feel like three years,” he said blinking rapidly

“It feels like just a minute has passed but at the same time, I was teaching down south at least a lifetime ago, maybe two. What’re you doing here? Last time we talked you were finishing up in London and off to work in animated films - getting an EGOT with that. Hell, you were sponsoring on toothpaste and cereal commercials for a while and then you just stopped. Fell off the face of the earth. What happened for almost two years that had you hiding in some sort of underground cave?”

“You can ask me to sum up, three years in one breath but I can’t ask that of you? That’s not fair, I’m wounded,” he teased and you rolled your eyes, “If you must know, I’ve been doing research and writing,”

“How many months worth of paychecks is it going to take for me to get tickets?” You sighed,

“I don’t have any idea yet, but how are you doing?”  

“Pretty great, I’ve actually fallen in love with the city and the job and, you’re going to be proud of me, they’ve got me playing at charity dinners and things, and wait for it,” you paused, “Introductions, presentations singing and playing in the background, the whole nine yards,” suddenly your feet were off the ground and behind you spinning, “Lin! Put me down,” you laughed, smacking his shoulder as he spun you,

“I am so happy for you, that’s wow,” he paused and seemed to think for a second, “You wouldn’t happen to be playing at a ceremony Thursday night would you?” you narrowed your eyes,

“Actually, I am, the coordinator of the ceremony is supposed to come in later today,” he grinned wide at your answer, “Why,” he pursed his lips trying to suppress a smile and shook his head, “Lin-Manuel what is going on in that brain of yours?”

“Later today might be sooner than you thought,” he said and your eyes went wide as you looked around frantically as if someone was going to suddenly appear from behind one of the many artifact shelves, you hurriedly patted your hair down and straightened your shirt that Lin’s hugs had wadded up,

“What? I can’t mess this up Kathrine’ll kill me if I lose this one, its some big deal hotshot that we need to keep things going and not get wiped off the pages. Some guy probably filthy rich probably so full of himself he can’t see right from left” you groaned in frustration and he laughed heartily at your worry,

“I think you’ll be okay, You’re such a goof,” he said, “’sometime after 11′,” it’s almost 12, isn’t it?” he checked,

“What? They’ll be here sometime after 1,” you ran over to the computer that was at least as old as some of the objects in the back of this room, “Nononono,” you groaned, “the screen’s fuzzy I misread it Oh god ah okay Lin,” you took a deep breath and shook your head, “Okay sorry, I’m a mess. What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“To talk about a ceremony Thursday night,” it clicked in your mind all at once and you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor

“You can’t be serious,”

“as a heart attack,”

“I uh..oops?” you giggled, “can we forget that I said anything? Like pretnd you just walked in the door and I didn’t stereotype the no-name leader of Thursday Nights ceremony at all?”

“Oh you mean the pat where I’m rich and so full o myself I can’t see up from down,” you thought he was joking but you were very hesitant and unsure,

“yes?”

“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about, I just got here,” he told you smiling and you breathed a heavy sigh immensely relieved to know that you hadn’t just ruined everything.

“So anyway, I got called in to do something because of Hamilton again, and it’s lost a bit of its hype, not much but some so why not? Plus I might be planning a bit of a surprise like one I did a while back,” he grinned, "You know how I promoted Hamilton at The White House when I was supposed to do something for Heights,”

“You are not!”

“Oh I am so!” his smile was infectious, “But you can’t tell anyone - it’s gonna be a surprise and if I chicken out I don’t want people hounding me about it,”

“You’re not going to ‘chicken out,’” you promised, “Now that you’ve told me this, you’re stuck,” you stuck your tongue out at him, "If you want to sit down we can go ahead and start going over the plan for Thursday night, it needs to run with as few hitches as possible, you’re going to throw it off a bit if I’m the only one allowed to know about your plan of change of plans but no fucks given, next order of business would be the order of introductions, we have a pretty standard template of order of importance but…” and just like that you managed to get down to business and plan out the evening,

“That sounds perfect. I don’t think a meeting like this has gone this smoothly in…I don’t even know how long. What are my chances of having lunch with you now, to catch up and interrogate you?” he asked and you smiled,

“Everyone else should be getting back from lunch any minute now, it was supposed to be Joe’s day to stay back and watch over stuff back here but I offered to stay instead,” you said, “But how would dinner sound?” and he nodded,

“I was planning on meeting up with a bunch of old friends tonight, that’d be excellent,”

“Great, I can’t wait,” he wrapped you in a short hug that lasted only a few seconds, you both already pulling back when Tanya and the others came in all laughing until they froze in the doorway seeing the two of you locked in a hug,

“Well, it was really nice seeing you again,” you said your face scarlet red, as you looked between Lin and your coworkers

“Yeah, back atcha Socrates,” he said and hurried out the door,

“What. Was. That?” Tanya asked,

“That was an old friend who helped me land this job in the first place dropping by for a visit…and to go over the plans for Thursday night,” you told her as calmly as you could in your flustered state, the others had all scattered almost instantly but would hound you later.

“Y/N, you were broken when you came here, you never said that the Lin that you were friends with that had told you about this job that had faded from your life leaving you dead inside was the Lin-Manuel Miranda. I don’t want to see you like that again,” you tried to protest, you weren’t broken, and even if you had been, it wasn’t because of him in the least, “I mean it, be careful, Thursday night is a big deal for us, important people will be there, important people with deep pockets,” you knew what she meant by that all too well: money was always what things boiled down to in any business and boy could you use some of it right now,

“I’ll be fine, we’re just two good friends that have found ourselves working on a project together. I’m meeting him and a bunch of friends tonight for dinner. Friends.” you stated as many times as you logically could.

“Just come home alive, okay?” she asked, “If you come to work next week like a dead zombie because of him  I will personally see to it that he doesn’t get another gig as long as he lives, And don’t you fall for him again tonight, you better be sober and chipper tomorrow morning or I will get Katherine to pull both of you out of the banquet ceremony on Thursday,”

“Yes mom,” you mocked

“Good. Now then, inventory.” Tanya was your best friend. You knew that she only had your best interests at heart and she was right. You couldn’t let yourself get involved with him again because he needed to chase his dreams all over the planet and you just couldn’t do that. You needed a stable environmnet where you knew what was going on and that just wasn’t something you owuld be able to have if for whatever reason old flames re sparked. But it was only a short fling before and besdies, it’s been three years. He probably found someone else and you had both moved on. He was your friend. That’s how it is and that’s how it is going to stay.

Chapter 9

So that’s not what I originally had in mind for “No Fucks given next,” I actually had an audition thing going on that was half-written mentally and I didn’t have any idea what to do, neither of the two characters in this series are likely to be in a particularly high risk situation.