#i just like to stare at her music like cats stare at carbonated water

[lokilysolbitch]

sorry i have such a pet peeve when people fight arguments with the wrong points and rn my fyp is full of taylor swift, it's like 40% "all her songs sound the same😡her lyrics are so cringe😡" etc and 40% is "nooo she has different sounding songs" AND THEN THEY CHOOSE THE MOST SIMILAR SOUNDING SONGS AS EXAMPLES or they go "um if she has cringe lyrics then explain this" and the choose the most basic possible lyric out of what like 11 albums of options and it's actually pissing me off so fucking bad

so first off here's some lyrics i think are pretty sick. i color coordinated them so the separate lyrics don't all blend together

from The Archer:

"And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years"

i love the imagery in this line from Cruel Summer:

"Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes"

from Would've, Could've, Should've:

"God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind"

for context would've, could've, should've is filled with themes of christianity, god, the devil so i love the line about stained glass windows representing trauma here

from right where you left me:

Help, I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light

They say, "What a sad sight"

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

They expected me to find somewhere

Some perspective, but I sat and stared

Right where you left me

the imagery!! it perfectly represents being stuck in a traumatic memory. haunting the space and collecting dust while everyone expects you to move on already. very cool metaphor/analogy

from I Know Places:

You stand with your hand on my waistline

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

Somethin' happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

from Dancing With Our Hands Tied:

I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing

Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied

both I Know Places and Dancing With Our Hands Tied are about dating while being scrutinized by the public. i just love the metaphor and imagery again

also bonus, the song my tears ricochet. im not even gonna show lyrics (the lyrics have funeral themes tho which i think is cool). just the phrase my tears ricochet for a song discussing someone hurting you and then missing you when you leave is so smart. look how my pain struck right back at you. like damn

next section:

i feel like it would be easy to combat "all her songs sound the same" comments when the artist being talked about literally had the public in outrage when she switched from country to pop. so my question is why are people responding to those comments with songs within the same Genre and Same Album ????????????? pick literally Any Other Song. i am going to lose it.

here's a list of songs you could listen to and hear very different sounding songs. again i coloured the songs and it corresponds to albums

...Ready For It? (these red ones are from the Reputation Album)

Endgame

New Year's day

Don't Blame Me

willow

champagne problems

Lavender Haze (these purple ones up here are from the Midnights album)

Sweet Nothing

Picture To Burn

New Romantics

Slut!

State Of Grace (this red one is from Red)

Better Than Revenge (this purple one is from Speak Now)

analyzing Taylors music is a special interest of mine, so i'm more familiar with the songs than anything about her, and she's not even my fave musician but i'm seeing both diehard swifties and haters misrepresent her music so fucking bad it's bothering me so much. sometimes the music hits sometimes it doesn't. you can't have absolutes after 11 albums and idk at least three genre changes.

pls keep it cordial in the comments and reblogs 💃i've just seen some weird, horrid, and violent comments on taylor swift type content and i need y'all to be normal about this. bc at some point it says Much More about you than taylor

[shesahershey]

Everything about me!

I'm bored and have nothing else to do, so here's everything about me!

My birthday's November 30th

I have 9 pets

My middle name is Nicole because that's what my mom originally wanted my first name to be

My sign is Sagittarius (not that I care lmao)

My favorite color is purple

I have low iron (I swear, I am going to pass out one day from doing something too quickly)

I have 27 ocs

I am working on a book explaining and following those ocs ( https://www.wattpad.com/story/82557802-adventurers-of-my-mind )

I am a cartoonist

I am Depressed

I am Anxious

I have ADHD

I will play games instead of working

Music is everything to me (I seriously can't do shit without it)

I love all music besides Country and Screamo

I am chill 24/7

Piss me off and I will daydream about hurting you

Hurt me and I will beat the shit out of you

Hurt my friends and I will make sure you are nothing but a bloody pulp on the sidewalk.

Violent when need be

Uses videogames to escape reality and take out violence

The quiet kid

People freak out when I talk

Will do anything to make you feel better

Bisexual

Gender Fluid

9 year old stuck in a 16 year old's body

I can't move on from the past

Childhood trauma

Lost my mom when I was 9

I am TERRIFIED of roaches.

Hyper-spikes when I get little to no sleep

Fandoms I am or was into: Hetalia, Eddsworld, Undertale/Deltarune and the AU's, FNAF Night Guards (idk if that's the right name???) Portal, Subnautica, and Minecraft

Will make inside jokes that only I know (Russian Snowman Cafe hehe)

Steals personalities to make people like me more (or so I think)

Two of my characters are almost carbon copies of other characters that inspired their design/personality because I just wanted them to be subtle nods (I regret it, but what can I do? I like how they are)

I love everyone for who they are unless you are LGBTQ+ Phobes, Terfs, Pedophiles, Beastiality, and Necrophilia. Then you may die in the worse way possible.

I love animals, hurt them and I will beat you with a bat until each and every bone is broken.

I talk to myself (Yourself knows yourself best)

"Anything's better than nothing" is my motto

Curses 24/7

Scars from Depression

Do not say, "Hey, we need to talk." I will go into a panic and think about everything I have done since birth.

Skin is delicious. (I need to stop eating myself...)

Bruises easily

I am thicc

Bust size is a goddamn 36-38 D. (Help me.)

Tiddies either fit the bra perfectly or flop out.

3 curves in my spine (genetics suck.)

Shoulders are uneven (fuck that backpack I had in 5th grade.)

I have had 3 real crushes

I have had 7 or more fictional crushes

Wings are AWESOME

I buy a ton of socks and lose every single one until there's only two or three left

Stuff animals give me life

Borderline hoarder (just for things I like or bought with my money)

My room is an abomination (where is anything??????)

I am a dog person (no patience for cats)

"If I don't align my feet with the tiles, I will die."

Tons of memes on my phone which I will not get rid of

I want to live in 2012

Either great or terrible with lying

I can't stay still

I will stare and space out

I think everyone is watching me so I'm cautious and freaking out about how I do things

I worry a lot

Cold most of the time

I jiggle when I walk

My thighs are too thicc, if I'm not in pants, they will rub against each other and it HURTS

I still have my Wii and my TV is the only one in my house that can play it

I'm somewhat flexible

Sweet treats keep me going

I can cook breakfast and that's it

I want to drive but I'm afraid

I spend almost an hour in the bathroom (I like the solitude)

I'm the opposite of Claustrophobia, I LOVE small places

I want to live in the forest

I am terrified of my family

When I'm sleeping, my legs cannot be close to each other (gotta do that Mario jump)

I will only buy shoes if I really need them

I buy things that make me happy (lots of money, gone...)

"If it still works, don't buy a new one." Is something I say for anything

Will look like a slut if I'm feeling it and then regret it later

I can whistle inwards

I avoid eye contact when talking to people because I feel awkward

I say "Drawl" and "Drawling" instead of "Draw" and "Drawing"

Make a Texan joke or stereotype and I will love it (yeehaw pardner)

Accents are AMAZING

I've made friends online and trust them with everything and love them to pieces

I want to travel and see my internet friends

I stopped biting my nails

I want to animate, but: I can't find the right batteries for my pen, I lost my pen, and my screen is messed up and hardly recognizes my pen

I will not judge you

I have a collection of bottle caps (ready for a fallout baby)

I cry easily

I will scream if I'm excited

My favorite song is "1/4" by VocaCircus/CircusP

I hate realism. (Let me draw how I WANT.)

My real personality? I don't know her

I have 1,945 songs

I live in the past and will not move on

Clay is REALLY GOOD

I lose track of what I'm talking about and switch left and right

I might forget I've said or showed you something and will say it or show it again

Sometimes I see small white lines that crawl around my eyes and then they disappear (it's like looking down at sugar ants)

I have missed out of really good shows, like Invader Zim, because I thought I wouldn't like it, them I'm like, "Hey, that looks pretty cool actually" and then it stops airing.

I have loads of freckles on my face and arms

My hair is curly, but since it's short, you can't really see it

I have a good singing voice

I LOVE pools and water parks

I've always wanted to learn an instrument, but decided drawing and writing was right for me

Hockey is my favorite sport (got that Canadian heart baby)

I've only seen snow twice (Texas sucks.)

My favorite character is Russia from Hetalia (I LOVE THAT BOY SO MUCH)

I want to learn a different language, but Jesus fuck, that takes so much effort

I'm patience

I love puzzle games

My favorite number is 3

I wear oversized shirts and jackets

I do really well in school until I gain the teacher's trust, and then do nothing for the rest of the year because they know I'll do it

I love science

I despise math

All of my oc's are a piece of me, merge them together and you get me

I have dark circles that won't go away

Fluffy things are GREAT

Soft things are BEAUTIFUL

I love galaxies

And that's all I can think of! Hope you liked learning about me!

[twistednuns]

August 2019

India // It’s incredibly hard to sum up my feelings about India and Nepal. It was a truly incredible trip. And so exhausting. It was enriching, interesting, hard, disgusting, educational, everything. This is not the place to talk about my experience at length so I’ll just write down some nice moments I collected along the way //   

on the go // the huge corner toilet at MUC airport departures / Rischart coffee / the smell of the Emirates airline NOIR lotion they offer in their bathrooms / cherry-flavoured Skittles //    Delhi // brightly painted buses and tuk-tuks / eating at AB veg restaurant in Hauz Khas, inredibly delicious and cheap / being lucky enough to choose the hostel in Hauz Khas village; meeting Dominique, Christie, Ayush, Samar and Julia / all those talks we had about linguistics, education systems, the future, politics, travelling, home, friends, experiences with magic mushrooms, Hannah Arendt, travelling (…); talking to Christy about her past, family, criminal record / Mosambi juice / Nici constantly flirting with me, trying to seduce me. She told me I’m posh, assertive, regal and I know myself very well. Making out with her was fun but honestly… not worth the drama. / Mosambi juice / a consultation with a renowned Ayurveda doctor - I loved talking to her even though she wasn’t able to tell me anything I hadn’t known already; sometimes it’s nice to get the confirmation that what you found out on your own is exactly the right thing / eating momos and Kathi rolls, the best Thalis / parties on the rooftop until the sunrise interrupted us; grilling whole fish, saying goodbye to Julia, singing along to Louise Attaque and Cher songs / riding rickshaws through Delhi; extra fun: squeezing 5 people in and listening to club music / the sheets smelling chalky with a hint of grape sugar / dancing at Raasta / petting cute street doggies / a cooking class with Mansi and her family in North Delhi - delicious food and really nice people, I fell in love with the mum / eating at Social (that building is just amazing) and strolling through the little alleys and stores at Hauz Khas village with Christie; she showed me the place where she got her linnen dresses and we talked to a jewellery store owner for quite a while / the spice market, climbing up a building and watching the men flying their kites, tasting some street food and spices, realiszing that there is a market street dedicated to a single group of things like the shoe market, the jewellery market etc. / the Brit Brats sharing their joints; tripping to Bayonne / the hidden merchant streets with colourful wall art around the entrances / PANEER (!) / stand-up comedy with a female comedian / elevator selfies / learning about the development of Indian scripts and letters/characters in Sanskrit in the National Museum; erotic sculptures, very detailed paintings depicting badass, tiger-hunting ladies / I saw a peacock. Cows, chipmunks, pigs, horses, monkeys, goats, guinea pigs, bunnies, cats and dogs, bats, herons, boars, caterpillars, centipedes, horses, donkeys (…) / finding the perfect triangular earrings with gemstones at the Dilli Haat market; getting some nice dresses, too / living on water and mango juice, feeling very light and clean, having an empty stomach all the time / Gandhi Smriti, retracing Mahatma’s last steps before his assassination / feeling human again after a few days in bed - I love the power of make-up, bananas, fresh clothes and those pink little Pepto-Bismol pills the Canadian lady gave me / Delhi central station; just WOW. It’s places like that which make you realise just how many people there are in India. //   

Rishikesh // the man helping me with the bus to Rishikesh; the kindness of strangers / “I thank the Lord for the people I have found” (Elton John - Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters) / emotional bus rides: crying for no reason, letting go, for the first time in a very long time; emotional turmoil, softening up; leaving people and whole countries behind / seeing the huge Shiva ceremony at the Ganges from the bus / my yoga teacher training, getting to know the other students / learning about a magic trick against bad posture / instant karma / the view from the rooftop, watching the sunrise over the lower Himalaya mountains / the simple, vega, ayurvedic food they offered at the ashram / visiting the temples with the apprentice yogi and his scooter; walking up 13 stories in the blazing sun, receiving a blessing and some red string around my wrist; taking part in the Ganga ceremony at sunset / the Beatles Ashram; it’s just this amazing place with incredible street art, and those ruins, the meditation caves and eggs on the rooftop… climbing up there was one of my highlights in Rishikesh / close second: visiting a meditation cave at the Ganges, a bit further up in the mountains; a monk had spent 15 years in that cave practising meditation / all the beautiful shops around town focussing on yoga accessoires / putting my feet in the Ganges #blessed #moksha / learning about my aggression during silent yoga / all the animals around town: horses, donkeys, cows, monkeys and whatnot //   

Varanasi // taking the night train for the first time; I shared my little compartment with a family and three little children but they were surprisingly dramafree and actually quite cute / a sunset boat trip on the Ganges, seeing the ghats, the ceremonies, the moon rise / the little alleys behind the ghats; the stores, the surprises / Marnikarnika Ghat was really impressive; it’s the cremation place and I saw dead bodies for the first time / accidentally discovering the Dirty Chai Cafe (chocolate peanut butter shakes and fresh, cold mint lemonade), finding a Kamala Das poetry book on the shelf / spending an afternoon with the German journalist (so weird how the atmosphere shifts when you’re accompanied by a man there; also our dynamic made me feel so glad to be travelling alone, to only be responsible for myself, to be independent); sharing a banana and water surrounded by goats in Hanuman Ghat; the view over the river from his room; him gently stroking my cheekbone / buying two saris in a little corner shop / my jewellery quest (unsuccessful) / eating fresh fruit salad after hardly eating solid food for days / checking out that little park on my last day, the air buzzing with dragonflies / watching the sunset from the hostel’s rooftop, filming a slow motion video / India brings out trauma and deep emotions; the people kept staring at me for whatever reason; I kept having disturbing dreams about my dead father and grandmother; and the mob-video Christy showed me didn’t help either (the whole village carried a man through the streets, eventually beating him up because he couldn’t pay off his debts) //   

Nepal // the first view of Nepal from the bus windows - how much greener, how much emptier it is than India / meeting some nice people on the bus - an American, a Brit and two Frenchies; grabbing dinner in Kathmandu with the latter / watching the sunrise at the border between India and Nepal / sitting next to the mayor of small town council on the bus ride; communicating with hand and feet / the Kathmandu valley is such a gorgeous sight / I got lucky with my hostel; Yakety Yak was a really nice and quiet place to stay; they even had laundry service and a shelf with free books - I read two or three of them because I behaved like a good (home)sick German abroad: bed, Haribo, carbonated water, trashy literature / visiting Bhaktapur, a gorgeous small town in the Kathmandu valley / watching the latest Tarantino movie at the cinema; the tickets were incredibly cheap / walking up the hill to the temple and the monastery, enjoying the incredible view over the surrounding hills; meeting two ladies from Austria, they live close to my old university town; walking to the centre through back alleys, stopping at a rooftop cafe, ordering three drinks at once (liquid diet) / that one jewellery store near the Pokhara bus station - I found some gorgeous brass rings with precious stones for little money / the busy square, the markets / hanging out in the hammock in my hostel in Pokhara, overlooking the lake / watching the skydivers land / the ayurvedic cafe and the other place serving smoothie bowls by the lake - it’s such a fantastic moment when you finally feel hungry again and eat a little solid food after fasting/suffering for a few days / two incredibly weird guys from Latvia and Berlin who provided a nice, mellow ending for my shitty day and even made me survive the mosquito attacks / meeting my travel agent who actually took me out dancing and gave me a ride on his motorcycle to the bus stop; he even gave me some fruit for the ride / By the Way starting to play while waiting for Vietnamese food / hunting down a place that sells semi-precious stone columns in Kathmandu; negotiating with the old lady selling them; getting some brass souvenirs for my friends and family / the view from the airplane - seeing the Himalaya for the first time; I pity people who’ve stopped looking out of windows //   

Coming home. I’ve NEVER felt happier entering my apartment after a trip. Being alone. Truly alone. Silence. Three rooms just for me. My bed. Having all my stuff back. Toiletries! Nice body lotion. My favourite perfume. Going to the supermarket. Unpacking all the jewellery, clothes and knick-knacks I bought. Taking care of my plants.   

Making a huge batch of my favourite ratatouille / pasta sauce.   

Visiting Manu in hospital. Cheering him up a little bit.   

Finally receiving my black and white analogue photos. I loved the shot of Andre looking like he’s being kissed by a dementor. And Lexi looking dead cool at ADBK.   

Pizza party at Grano with Lena. Eating sorbet out of a lemon.   

Riding my bike through the forest on a sunny morning. Stopping to take pictures of the beautiful light, the yellow flowers. Spending too much money at the garden center. Driving home, IKEA bags full of plants.  

 Inventing my signature manicure: a little black dot just above the nailbed.   

Having an evening beer outside at Sofa So Good with Andre.   

Stumbling upon Konsti. The one who ghosted me years ago after a beautiful summer spent kissing in lakes because his therapist had told him so. Well, we talked for a few days, but guess what - he just ghosted me for a second time. Fool me one - shame on you. Fool me twice - shame on me.

[shirlleycoyle]

Big Rural

Today, I’m pleased to share part of an intriguing project from Arizona State University and some top science fiction writers focused on examining the future of solar power—The Weight of Light. Per ASU, it’s a “collection of science fiction stories, art, and essays exploring human futures powered by solar energy… What will it be like to live in the photon societies of tomorrow? How will a transition to clean, plentiful energy transform our values, markets, and politics?” The ebook is free, and you can check it out here. The story we’re running today, about the incoming clash of Big Solar and small town America, comes courtesy of the great Cat Rambo—the president of the Science Fiction Writers of America, and acclaimed speculative scribe in her own right. Enjoy. -the ed

Trish almost didn’t take the turnoff from Interstate 8. She was tired and anxious and it was easy to miss, particularly in the evening blast of last-gasp sunlight. A headache was building in the back of her neck, ratcheted up by lack of sleep. Should have picked a self-driving car rather than this one.

But when she glimpsed it, the decision to swing down the unnamed pebble-and-dust road that led to Ojos de Amistad Lookout seemed so natural that it was almost automatic, happening between one breath and the next. She switched off the AC and thumbed all four windows open. Almost as though she were back in high school, she and Jeff Garcia out driving his ancient Jeep in the early evening, when the blue ebbed from the Arizona sky and a faint scent of creosote rode the cooling wind.

If she got to the lookout point before the sun began to dip below the horizon, she’d see one of the best things about the valley. Because of the coal plant, Tierra del Rey had beautiful sunsets, and she wanted her return home to start with that image.

The road was barely car-width, even for her small rental. The car bounced and jittered along the road, sending pale dust and pebbles flying amid scruffs of agave and prickly pear. Tires crunching over rocks, the rumble outside battling the tinny sound from the dashboard radio as the DJ segued into yet another country song. It was the third time she’d heard this one since pulling the rental away from the airport, a few hours ago.

You city people fill your lives with chatter,

Thinking that us country folk don’t matter …

The road narrowed and dwindled before widening out into four cars’ worth of parking, unoccupied. She pulled the parking brake and reached to the radio.

But listen out here in the big rural, the big land,

Something’s echoing here, maybe you can understand …

She clicked the music off and grabbed her purse and water bottle before taking the footpath up to the point. The path had once been set off with railroad ties, which still bordered the sunbaked mountainside, but the cedar chips were gone now, not even crumbles left. Every step was a memory jabbing at her. How many times had she walked up this way, angry at something, someone, usually the town itself, full of resolution to get out, no matter what?

The sign at the fork was sun-faded into unintelligibility, but she knew what it said. Marcos de Niza, Spanish conqueror, had paused here, looked out, and claimed the valley in the name of his king. Also: no trash, no alcohol, no fires.

By the time she reached the ledge overlooking the valley, sweat covered her, and the evening breeze flickering across her skin was welcome, even if it was barely cooler. She went to the gym three times a week, but she wasn’t in anything like the shape she’d been in as a teen, when she was running track, knowing it the best chance she had for a scholarship. Running her way out of Tierra del Rey and into a better life.

One that had led her straight back here. Anxiety and guilt flared at that. What sort of welcome would she get? She hadn’t thought she’d ever be back. Hadn’t bothered to maintain ties. More efficient that way. More effective that way.

And easier. So much easier.

She gulped down the last of the water and stuck the bottle into her purse. The tomato-red sun rolled on the horizon, sending long black shadows walking across the land, towards the enormous black square that was Phase I of the Sol Dominion power plant, glittering in the last of the sunlight. You could barely see the storage structures scattered among the solar panels like enormous alien flowers, many-petalled and made of dark carbonized plastic with an oily undersheen of cobalt and purple.

Arms folded, she looked towards the town bordering that square to the east, where lights were flickering alive. She could name most of them. The gas station. The diner. The tiny grocery/hardware/drugstore locals just called “the store.” The two-block strip that was Main Street, the grade school on one end, the high school on the other, linked by shared sports fields: baseball, soccer. Still no football stadium. The coal plant, unlit now.

When you came home again, even to “the big rural,” as the song called it, things were supposed to have changed. Here the only change was that black square. Between the town lights and the scattered but symmetrical lights surrounding the plant, a dark strip, perhaps a mile wide, stretched, unlit. As though town and plant had turned their backs on each other.

Not all of them, though, given the vandalism she’d been called to investigate.

A mourning dove called, a lonesome whirra-hu-hu somewhere to her left where the cliff face stretched upward. She and Jeff had climbed further up dozens of times, but this spot had been their favorite.

She ran her thumb between her shoulder and the purse strap, feeling the leather cling to her sweaty skin. East Coast life’s made me soft. She turned back to the trail and descended in the half-light while the dove called behind her. Halfway down, another dove answered it, and their solemn call-and-response accompanied her all the way back to the car.

By the time she was halfway back to the highway, full dark had descended. She switched on her brights, pressing the confirm button at the car’s query. There were no other cars on the road, and she didn’t bother to dim the lights until she hit the outskirts of town.

Two cars in the parking lot of the store. She didn’t expect to recognize them, and didn’t. The bell jingled the way it had a thousand times before as she stepped into the store’s sallow fluorescent lights. Two customers talking to the clerk up front, one of those lazy shoot-the-shit conversations. Their backs turned. But then one shifted and the light hit his shoulder as he shrugged, showed the muscles along the back of his neck and she froze. Jeff.

She could have kept moving, but the customers looked around at the sound of the bell. Jeff recognized her immediately, she could read that in the way his expression shifted: surprise welcome then hardening into anger and a more defensive stance. Beside him, Aaron Paulsen. Of course, who else would I least want to see the night I arrived? Aaron flippin’ Paulsen.

Behind the counter, a sleepy-eyed girl, high school age, unimpressed and bored by all of them, stared down at her phone. Her name tag read Zoe Z, tilted at a careless 30-degree angle on the blue nylon uniform shirt. Trish remembered how scratchy that fabric was, how it seemed to gather heat in all the most uncomfortable places.

Jeff and Trish locked eyes. Aaron was the first to speak. “Beatrice!” he exclaimed, a little too hearty, a little too smiling.

She forced an answering smile, looking away from Jeff’s accusing eyes to meet Aaron’s chilly blue gaze. “Aaron. Jeff.” Hefting a plastic basket from the pile slumped near the door, she stepped towards the back cooler cases. She was tired, and she was hungry. Get in, get the food, get out.

She expected them to say something more, but they were silent. Trying to rattle me, that’s Paulsen’s style. She felt that they must be watching, but when she swung around with her armload of milk, thaw-dinners, and a sleeve of eggs, Aaron was sliding money across the counter to the clerk and taking two packs of cigarettes along with a red, white, and blue striped lighter while Jeff stared at the lottery ticket display.

Aaron scooped up his change as she came up behind them. Turning, he said, “So, come back to check out what your company’s been doing here?”

Of course they know who I work for, she thought. Small towns, everyone knows what everyone else does.

“Troubleshooting,” she said briefly. She looked him in the eyes, watching his body language. “There’s been vandalism. More than petty stuff.” Jeff looked up at that, his face a careful blank.

Was that guilt flickering in the watery depths of the smile Aaron showed her?

“Yeah, I heard about that. People don’t like the power plant. They don’t know what to expect. They know my family’s coal plant built this town.”

“They’re saying a lot, seems like,” she said.

He shrugged. “Small town, word gets around.”

“Word of who’s been doing it too, maybe?”

He shrugged. Behind him, Jeff’s face still blank as an unlit screen.

They stood there in silence while she paid for her groceries and gathered up the bag.

“See you, Beatrice,” Aaron said to her back as she left.

“I go by Trish now.” On the door as she swung it open, a poster from Sol Dominion. The alien flowers dark and ominous against the blue and yellow of Sol Dominion, golden words above it: Sol Dominion Phase II Coming Soon. Underneath the picture in a more sober, shadowy blue: Building Today For a Brighter Tomorrow.

The bells jingled again as the door closed behind her.

*

She kept the windows open to the cooler night air as she headed to the solar plant. On its eastern side was the housing for the workers that had built it, mostly empty now but kept ready for the workforce that would return in three months for Phase II.

The moonlight washed out Sol Dominion’s trademark sunshine yellow and sky blue, leached them of life until the trailers formed a symmetrical, boxy plastic ghost town. Their blank faces flickered past as she drove to the gate, a glass box, lit from the inside, housing a sleepy-looking woman nursing a coffee cup, reading a paperback. She glanced up as Trish rolled to a stop. Booted heels crunched over gravel; Trish turned off the car and proffered her ID. “Evening, Anita,” she said.

Anita Luz, who had babysat Beatrice Soledad from the ages of three to seven, didn’t acknowledge the greeting. She studied the plastic card before flipping it back towards Trish. “Any trailer’s open except the first three in Row G.” She made her way back to the booth and pushed a button. The chain-link gate shuddered open.

“Nice to see you too,” Trish muttered under her breath.

Close up, the trailers in their identical rows seemed even spookier. They were all yellow with blue trim, the number beside each doorway the same color. She opted for Row F—one over but still close to the plant’s other occupants, a skeleton crew of gate guards and technicians, totaling eight.

She settled in, unpacking her groceries. The trailer smelled of staleness and disuse and she opened all the windows, letting the desert breeze wash in and sweeten the air. There were no bed linens. She unfolded a t-shirt and dressed the foam pillow in it, then laid down on the crackling plastic film that covered the bed, listening. She could hear two owls hunting, calling to each other huhu huhu in a stuttering rhythm that overlapped then died away into silence then started again.

Quiet here. One of those nights when the wind sang in the telephone wires. Outside, the field of solar panels was silent and unmoving even as electricity flowed out of it, feeding needs far beyond Tierra del Rey. Sol Dominion’s model project. Almost ready for Phase II. Whoever helped make that happen would be lavished with glory and bonuses and, most importantly, allowed a leap two or three rungs up the corporate ladder.

And if you leaped and fell? There were plenty of other young MBAs with gleaming degrees from Wharton and Harvard, ready to fall into line and begin their own journeys upward.

She fell asleep dreaming of ladders, reaching up out of dark water.

*

When she woke, the day was already starting to heat up. As she filled the coffee maker with water, she glanced out the window, then froze. One of the enormous solar storage devices was askew, canted at an impossible angle that threatened the arrays of black tempered glass beneath its long shadow.

One of the most important parts of the plant, the batteries stored the gigawatts then sent them out to power businesses and homes, so many lives dependent on that invisible flow.

Water ran over her hand as the carafe overfilled. She set it down, turned off the tap, and went out to investigate. The tower was one of the ones furthest from the worker housing and it took her a while to walk there. This close to the panels, she could see weeds growing in the shadows and spiny lizards lying in the sun, soaking up heat.

Machinery, hacked apart, the base of the alien flower chopped as though it were a tree. Beneath it, dropped as though the attacker had been scared away mid-swing, a long-handled axe. She knelt to examine it.

Most of the red paint had peeled away from the head, and someone had wrapped the handle first in string, then black electrical tape, so it could be gripped away. The pattern reminded her of how Jeff and the other boys had wrapped their baseball bats, emulating one of the older kids that year.

The security cameras yielded nothing; black hoods cloaked the faces of the three intruders, who registered only as collections of jerky motion in the infrared system. They’d disabled the lights beforehand; Anita had left a note saying she hadn’t heard anything. Hadn’t even bothered to wait to talk to Trish.

*

Bill Larson had been sheriff of Tierra del Rey for as long as Trish could remember. Stolid to the point of dourness, the lanky, balding man oversaw a single deputy, the pair based in a cinderblock construction on the main road into town. It was a tradition for the schoolchildren to paint murals on it. The current one was fresh, showing town buildings on one side, the solar plant on the other. They met around the central door, where the alien flowers shrunk, brightened, became marigolds, poppies, and roses.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

The air inside was crisply cold, hitting her bare skin the minute she stepped through. Lawson sat at his desk, facing the door, leaning back with his boots on the desk, coffee in hand as he studied some form. He scowled at the sight of her.

She shoved down all the feelings he roused in her of having done wrong. A fatherless teen with a mother working too many hours to watch over her children, she’d had her share of run-ins. Now she was here as Sol Dominion’s representative; she stepped forward with the assurance that having a multinational corporation behind her in the face of a small-town sheriff gave her.

“There’s been more vandalism, one of the storage towers,” she said. “I need to see the other reports on it when you come to investigate.”

Larson returned his attention to the form he’d been studying. “No reports. Company property, not town.”

“You’re supposed to oversee the whole valley!”

“Except for Sol Dominion holdings,” he said flatly. “A pleasure to see you, Miss Soledad. Enjoy your stay here in Tierra del Rey.”

*

Her head churned as she drove away. Aaron must be the ringleader. No one was more upset about the coal plant being shut down than the family that owned it, that had commanded a special spot in Tierra del Rey society as a result. She’d found plenty of Aaron’s type in college and then Sol Dominion: born into wealth and unused to losing. They would do anything to avoid it, thinking themselves more deserving of victory than lesser souls.

She stopped at the store to pick up more water. The clerk didn’t even look at her, too intent on her phone to care about any customer. On the way out, Trish saw the poster again. Someone had taken black felt-tip and scribbled all over it, tangles of dark ink, like weeds around the flower bases: “get the fuck out Sol we love coal” and “where’s our water?”

Aaron, behind her again.

I forget that about small-town-in-the-big-rural. Every time you turn around, you’re seeing someone you don’t want to. His smirk, angled down at her as though to remind her of the height discrepancy.

“Come back to see what your company’s done?” he asked, knife sharp. “Or to scavenge the corpse?”

“Corpse is an odd choice of word,” she said, neutral. “The project’s brought in jobs and money, with more on the way. What’s dead, precisely?”

“Take your pick.” Black felt-tip pen riding in his front shirt pocket, she noted. “Maybe the town. Maybe your friendships. Jeff everything you thought he’d be?”

He was, she thought, thinking of that expressionless face when he’d seen her. Still familiar, same stance.

She tried to steer them back to something closer to friendship. “Did he become a volunteer firefighter like he’d always said?” The firefighters had denied him as a teen because of asthma difficulties; nowadays with gene therapy she didn’t think that would be such an issue, but who knew?

Aaron froze as though he was trying to figure out what she meant by the question, eyes narrowing. Finally he spat, “What do you care?” Pushed past and was gone.

She followed him though, at a distance. Trailed him back to the lookout. He’d lead her to the other vandals, sooner or later.

An unfamiliar car. She ghosted along, activating her net link—if she was discovered, she’d be broadcasting whatever happened, in livetime, deterrent enough for most criminals. And if not? Something to think about when and if.

She paused on the bend under the lookout to listen.

Aaron’s voice, and Jeff’s.

“Like a black hole,” Jeff said. “Remember that from sixth grade science? That one always stuck with me, I don’t know why. Big black hole, sucking up everything. Welcome to Sol Dominion.”

She could see what he was talking about: the great glittering black puddle that was the project, the distant alien blooms, one of them askew. Inhuman. Swallowing life and giving nothing, a trickle at best, back to the town clinging to its edge.

But it was realization, not the vista, that froze her. Aaron’s not the leader.

She thought of the long-handled axe. The sort a volunteer firefighter might carry.

Jeff is.

*

Walking back and forth that night, trying to figure out what to do. Every time she went near the guard shack, she could hear the radio. That big rural song again, twice.

You city people fill your lives with chatter,

Thinking that us country folk don’t matter …

To Sol Dominion, the townsfolk hadn’t mattered. She remembered the presentation, the way they’d worded it. Out in the middle of nowhere. And her looking at the map, seeing the crossroads and realizing. Tierra del Rey.

Images flickered through her head as she paced. The poster, the angry black scrawls across it. The glittering black sea of the panels—there’d be so many more of them in Phase II.

But listen out here in the big rural, the big land,

Something’s echoing here, maybe you can understand …

The children’s mural outside the sheriff’s office.

The air chilled as she walked and the tears on her cheeks glittered as she paced.

*

She’d made a lot of calls by the time she invited Jeff to walk with her up to the lookout point. Cashed in all her social capital, maybe overdrawn some of it. That remained to be seen.

Jeff’s expression was wary. He didn’t say much as they walked side by side up the trail.

“Beatrice,” he started once.

“That’s not who I am. I call myself Trish now.”

“That’s not who I fell in love with.”

After that, silence until they reached the point. Still a little cool, but sweat rode her forehead when they arrived.

She could smell dust and creosote bush on the wind. A red-tailed hawk swung far above in lazy spirals, getting an early morning jump on rodents and sluggish reptiles.

Jeff said, “I guess you know.”

“I guess I do.” She took out a bottle of water, took a swig, passed it over to him.

He drank and wiped his lips on the back of his arm before passing the bottle back. There were fine lines in the corners of his eyes now, years of sun she’d avoided. “So, what now?”

“Imagine if we made it something other than a black hole,” she said.

He frowned.

“Ever hear of agro-voltaics?”

At his headshake, she continued. “Imagine crops growing between the panels, sheltered from some of the heat. Strawberries, melons.” She searched her mind for the children’s mural. “Marigolds, poppies. Even roses. The company took the water rights but hasn’t done anything with them. I’ve confirmed that we can get most back.”

She gestured at the expanse. “Yes, more space, but we’ve got plenty of that. And the infrastructure to ship the produce out at the same time. Send the power out to the state but feed it as well.”

“That’s a big change,” he said.

She shrugged. “Some things are big enough to work toward.”

The bottle was dry and sunrise well past by the time they finished talking.

“What made you change your mind, overall?” he asked as they started towards her car.

She shrugged. “Thought about what would piss off Aaron most, so that meant nothing to do with coal.”

“No, really.”

“That’s as good a reason as any,” she said, but kept her smile tilted away from him as they walked away from the sunset and down the path.

Big Rural syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/