#i know its a comics thing they adapted but thats where i encountered it for the first time lol

[noblechaton]

when Amanda Waller mentioned Checkmate my brain warped me back to like season 9 of Smallville on impact lmao. Superheads we are so back

[erasedvoice]

this is mostly me shitposting but i was bored and don’t feel like drawing lmao (also sorry its low quality LMFAO)

template by @ misxtune on tiktok!

explanation and clean copy under the cut vvv (lots of ranting abt characters lol)

clean copy:

explanations:

okay SO im very indecisive (as you can see) but i love looking into characters and so it’s hard to just choose one LMAO

i love both casey and usagi in the way that casey is kind of just this teenager who puts on a hockey mask and happens to meet the turtles, he’s super supportive and has such a loyal and resilient character that i just appreciate him lol

usagi is always the samurai that is very dedicated to honor and i honestly just find his character so interesting, especially in 2003

IDW bebop and rocksteady. i love how these two, in this iteration, are the villains that tend to goof off and make jokes but stay focused on their mission — see Attack On Technodrome #125-130 — and are powerful villains despite their jokes and fooling around

attack on technodrome is also one of my favorite arcs because it shows the careful planning of the turtles and the sacrifices they make for each other, how far theyre willing to go shows their bonds are

SAINW. there isnt enough that i can say about this episode — how much is showcased that, quite literally, when one falls, they all fall. especially when its the mediator of a group and a very loved family member, the four of them are four, and always will be.

even in the last ronin, mikey showed his exhaustion for war and how when mikey was looking at the aftermath, he couldnt get over it and continuously felt guilt over his decision

as for the punk frogs comic, i see that arc as a whole in favor; from the disappeared mutant frog to donatello’s encounter with dr. barlow — it builds up so meticulously and even looks back to recent/past trauma, which ive noticed that few iterations go in detail with.

favorite characters-

mikey- i love his personality in 2003, and i genuinely admire his style of fighting thats unpredictable and confident. he can be distractable and isnt always the most powerful, but hes very adaptable and can goof around while skill taking what hes doing seriously. in IDW, he at first plays mediator, then shifts into a more relaxed but focused personality. he has very strong morals and even steps away from his family for them briefly — although first and foremost, he loves his family and just wants to be together and happy

leo- i love his IDW arcs; especially dark leo, because it shows how even as the leader, it can leave him with making difficult choices despite his strong goal of keeping his family safe first. when he defeats dark leo, he goes through a recovery arc that his family helps him through. as for 2003, leo is the leader that knows how to work with hus family, and even when he makes the wrong choices or keeps things to himself and explodes, he is always family centered and grateful for their care. he has a very interesting character thats honestly explored in various ways through other iterations as well, but its always somehow tied to protecting his family

donatello- okay, so hes my favorite turtle in general, but IDW, 2012, and 2003 have paricularly stuck out to me. in 2012, aside from his crush on April throughout the series, i very much appreciate his character and bonds. the self-hatred he holds for being a mutant i found very interesting — it isnt overtly discussed in 2012, but its mentioned enough that its clear. and while hes not a hothead like raphael, he does have moments of anger, especially in Heart of Evil. this series shows that where hes the science heart of the team, there is a lot of pressure on him during battle because of that. this continues and he even explodes on leo for the pressure. in 2003, hes almost the opposite — a gentle heart, and a mediator between his family. he’s very rarely pressured for his inventions, and willing to help another no matter who they are. despite this, he has his moments of mischief, and a morally grey line that he crosses at times. as for IDW, i love his arcs with dr. barlow and attack on technodrome — the sacrifices he makes for his family, and a sacrifice he almost takes himself as a result. this iteration also touches on his trauma the most, where it mentions the attack on technodrome arc several times and manifests as trauma through the series. this iteration also has him go to an alternate reality that shakes him — see Turtles in Time #1-4. overall, i appreciate donatello’s character in the iterations, showcasing his intellect, passion, and struggles.

raphael- i gotta admit, 1987 raphael has a special place in my heart bc this iteration hes so funny, and so much different than how other iterations act — although 2018 is most similar to his personality in 1987. all iterations of raph speak to me (and 2003 comes to a close second in favorites for his passions and struggles) but ive found 1987 raph to be my first favorite for his one-liners and expressions.

minor notes-

2003 splinter i love for his attention and care for the turtles, hes not overly strict like 2012 or overly humorous like 2018 and 1987, but he does have his moments of humor. 2012 and 1987 i like his sense of humor, and IDW is interesting for his morals that become influenced and, later on, his realization and redemption (kind of?) for his past decisions

and yes, i like tmnt vs batman movie for its humor and animation. i love their character designs, expressions, and attitude (tmnt vs batman mikey is another favorite of mine tbh) with each other and with allies and enemies. i also like the showcase of leo’s struggle as a leader, and his desire to keep his family safe as well as his frustrations when he isnt able to protect them. its very brief, but it speaks out to me in this way

sorry this turned out so long LMAO but i really do love tmnt iterations

i may or may not have a whole google doc of character analysis thats still in progress 💀

[burningcollectionsandwich]

my top 10 favourite game characters

im not much of a gamer person as i normally watch random stuff on youtube, draw or read goosebumps books, but when i do play games, HOLY CRAP some of the game characters i encounter are flipping awesome. i wont give much information about these characters away because i dont want to give out spoilers. so i made a top 10 list of my favourite game characters (in my opinion) 

(i dont own any of these gifs, characters or games)

number 10 = Lisa from PT Silent Hill

ah lisa, the first ever game character to scare the ever living hell out of me and cause major paranoia whenever i was alone. and thats what i love about her. to me, making me feel paranoia and having me look behind my back constantly, thats true horror to me and its flipping awesome. i also like her design as shes disturbing and the way she walks towards you while twitching violently as well as making noises that sounds like shes sobbing, perfect horror dude

number 9 = Nemisis from Resident Evil 3

holy crap this dude is awesome, design and power wise. first of all his appearances is awesome, just look at him, he reminds me of “the thing” from the horror movie “the thing” but as a humanoid, that and his height makes him a very intimidating character and i love it. and his power, that he literally adapts to everything makes him a very good boss to fight. awesome. i was very happy to see that he was added to dead by daylight

number 8 = Junkrat or Jamison Fawkes from Overwatch

i flipping love this idiot. i always pick junkrat whenever im playing overwatch to the point that im pretty much an expert now (im kidding, im no where near expert level). i also really like his personality as hes super smart when it comes to building stuff, yet he pretty much acts like a insane child and i love it

number 7 = The Huntress or Anna from Dead by Daylight

holy crap the huntress is awesome, hard to play against though, but still good. the huntress is a really cool character as her design is intimidating, her terror radius is her humming, which is very creepy to hear, and her ability to launch axes at you, bloody hell it is very hard to win a match against her when your a survivor. i also really like her backstory as well (i wont reveal it incase i spoil it for anyone who doesnt know)

number 6 = Sans the Skeleton from Undertale

ive liked the character of sans ever since he met frisk in the game, as he is a very interesting and mysterious character, i also like how hes very laid back but very protective over his brother papyrus. its been god know how long and i still cant beat his boss fight

number 5 = Clementine from Telltales the Walking Dead

clementine! i love clementine, we literally watched this character grow up throughout the games from season 1 when she was only 8-9 years all to season 4 when shes 17? (i think shes 17? sorry if im wrong), and throughout the seasons she just became more and more badass and awesome. (its been 6 years and i still have no idea if im spelling her name correctly or not. shes still awesome though)

number 4 = Mono from Little Nightmares 2

i love the character of mono, hes awesome, hes badass, hes adorable, literally everything about him is awesome. hes also really kind too, helping six throughout the game and saving them countless times (hell i even dressed up as him for comic con, hes really cool)

number 3 = Sal Fisher/Sally Face and Larry Johnson from Sally Face

how could i not put this gif. i actually couldnt pick between which character i liked the best between these 2 because i love them equally. sal is really kind and cool, and larry is awesome and protective, espesially over sal. theyre honestly the perfect team

number 2 = John Doe from Telltales Batman the Enemy Within

ayyy the guy that started my blog in the first place (its true, my blog was a batman telltale series blog before it became a goosebumps blog). john is my favourite character in the telltale games mainly because of how funny and awkward he is, half of the things he does and says is hilarious to me, plus when he turns into the vigilante joker, THATS when hes at his best, he tries so hard to be a hero and i love literally every scene hes in

number 1 = Yuka Mochida from Corpse Party Blood Covered

sorry i had to use a gif from the anime because i couldnt find a gif of her in any of the games. i remember watching corpse party for the first time when i was 13 years old and ever since then, yuka has been always been my favourite character. she has to be one of the kindest characters in the corpse party games, and i flipping love that, especially given the extremely dangerous situations shes in (trust me, the situations are very dangerous). also shes flipping adorable 

guys i highly recommend these games, they are flipping awesome (the games are: PT Silent Hill, Resident Evil, Overwatch, Dead by Daylight, Undertale, Telltale’s the Walking Dead, Little Nightmares 2, Sally Face, Telltale’s Batman the Enemy Within, and Corpse Party Blood Covered. they are all really cool)

what are you guys’s favourite video game characters, honestly i would love to know?

(i dont own any of these gifs, characters or games)

[justalitlecreacher]

I’m here to prove that Andrew Garfield’s portrayal of Spider-man/peter parker in The Amazing Spider-Man is objectively the best love action adaptation of the character. In this essay I will....(yes this is really happening)

Edit: 10/20/20- i want to indulge myself in spiderman content but finding non mcu spiderman content is exhausting so imma update this instead

TL;DR

Andrew Garfield is my favorite of the 3 Spider-Man actors. TAS’s Peter is more fun and dynamic than the cookie cutter “shy introverted nerd that has a crush on a girl who’s way out of his league” Peter in Tobey Maguire’s movies. I enjoy Tom Holland’s portrayal of the character, but hate the way Disney has written the movies.  I enjoy the characters, plot, and humor of The Amazing Spider-Man far more than the other 2, and i deeply wish we had gotten the third movie with the canon BIder-Man of Andrew’s (and my) dreams.

[DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NOT SEEN THE AMAZING SPIDERMAN 2 OR ANY MCU SPIDERMAN MOVIES OUTSIDE OF CLIPS AND REVIEWS ITS ALSO BEEN A VERY HOT MINUTE SINCE IVE SEEN A TOBEY MAGUIRE MOVIE]

Characterization

  Most arguments against Andrew Garfield’s Spidey( AG’s from now on) begin and ends with “he was a good Spider-Man but a bad Peter Parker”. This references an outdated post comparing all three Spidey actors.(Id attach the image here but i dont want the post to be too long(thats a lie this is so long what am i doing with my life)) The post also claims that Tobey played a good Peter and a poor Spidey; and that Tom is good at both “roles”.(Honestly I think it seems silly that this seems obey the “third time’s the charm” rule but thats just me).  Most people using this seem to be Tobey stans who have forgotten or ignored the rest of the post funnily enough, but the ones that go further into the WHY AG is a poor Peter are also incorrect. This argument also ignores the idea that there can be more than one version of Peter Parker which is blatantly incorrect.  Just look at Into the Spiderverse or the PS4 game; these provide 4(5 if you count the pig) versions of Peter themselves, and that doesnt even include the comics. 

 Arguments that go further in depth claim that the AS Peter is too cool or well liked by his peer to be a “true” Peter Parker. The evidence for this seems to be that Peter has a skateboard.(which what? didnt realize that having a skateboard would instantly make you cool brb guys). Adding to that i dont really see where people get the idea that Peter is popular or well liked. While looking for complaints i found this qutoe from reddit(theyve since deleted it looks like but i’ll add a link in the notes) “He's angsty, pretty socially awkward, has an aptitude for science, and is kind of an outsider. He gets bullied by Flash and he gets his ass kicked after trying to stand up to Flash. He isn't a "cool" person in any way (until the ending, in which he's best buds with Flash, so I'll give you that). While Maguire is more accurate to the 60s comics where Peter in high school is just a fucking loser with basically no friends, in the ultimate comics, Peter is more of the kid who has a small amount of friends, but isn't popular.”. Honesty i fully agree with this because once again, other versions of a character are allowed to exist. You can dislike one version, but its silly to dislike something for not being exactly like another thing.

Ive also heard that Peter isnt “nerdy enough” in this movie which really doesnt make any sense considering the entire plot happens because Peter was looking into some of his parents’ research. If he wasn't interested in looking further into his father’s work what reason would he have to go to Oscorp where he’s bitten by the spider? Why would he have become Dr. Conner’s assistant? If he wasn’t intelligent how did he develop the web shooters?(something that Tobey!Peter doesn't have to do out of plot convenience might i add).  

 Another complaint i see is that the quips he uses in the movie(the first one specifically it seems) makes him seem like an asshole. Honestly thats a fair complaint, but i think its a good bit of characterization; espcially if he does get better about it in the second movie like the internet suggests.The Peter in this movie is a rightfully angsty teen; of course he acts a bit of an ass to criminals(also i feel like its important to mention that he’s like that to criminals? its not like hes being a dick for no reason).

  Compare this with the Tobey Maguire(TM) movies. Like i said i haven’t seen these in awhile but as far as i’m aware TM’s Peter doesn't really do anything particularly nerdy in the film? I may have forgotten something( ok in the scene before he gets bitten he knows a cool spider fact) but he doesn’t have to invent the web-shooters because they came with his powers and he’s only at Oscorp in the first place because it’s a school field trip that he appears to be taking photos for. This Peter does fit the definition of outcast(friendless and bullied for it), but honestly i just dont like him. He’s weird and something about the character makes me feel like i should be a little grossed out every time he looks at MJ at the beginning of the movie.  

   I honestly don’t have any complaints for Tom Holland’s(TH’s)Spidey. Tom is a great actor and from what ive seen i enjoy his portrayal of the character.( He made me cry when i character i actively dislike died).  

Story

  I cant really say much for TAS story. It’s interesting but nothing special really. However, there is one scene that i don’t think i’ve seen anything like since( the closest would probably be the train scene in the original trilogy). 

 The crane scene. Early in the film Peter saves a boy from a car that has fallen off of a bridge, and at the end of the movie this becomes relevant again when it is uncertain that Peter will be able to get to the lizard to stop him in time.(as Peter is already injured and pretty far from the lizard’s location). The boy’s father is then revealed to be a construction worker who recognizes that Spider-man is going to need help to get to the lizard; he remembers how Spider-Man saved his son and organizes the rest of the construction workers to build a path out of crane arms for SM to swing from. All of them are putting themselves in danger by not evacuating, but SM’s actions in the first act of the film motivate them to do what’s right. 

  I love this scene primarily because it highlights something that i think is a really important part of Spider-Man’s character; his connection to the people he saves. SM is often shown interacting with and chatting with the people he has saved after the fact. One comic shows Peter accidentally scaring some bullies and then taking the time to ride the bus to school with them to continue their conversation and educate the students on bullying.( There’s definitely more but this is off the top of my head).

  Another scene in TAS that i love is shortly before the crane scene when Peter is originally attempting to make his way across the city to stop the lizard, and he is shot down by the police. They manage to unmask him before Peter comes to his senses( he had just been shot and fallen pretty far out of the sky in his defense). From there Peter is able to deal with the police while keeping any of them from getting a good look at his face. The one cop he cant take out happens to be Gwen Stacey’s father who had previously had an argument with Peter about Spider-Man(Peter obviously on SM’s side and Mr. Stacey against SM). Peter turns and allows Captain(?) Stacey to see his face. I believe that this is an example of an unwilling identity reveal done right. i really enjoyed this moment because Peter had just shown that he likely could have gotten out of this encounter with his identity in tact as he had just taken down however many men. This implies that it was an active choice on Peter’s end to trust that Captain Stacey would ultimately do the right thing and allow Peter to go fight the Lizard, rather than a final desperate attempt to get away unscathed. Whether or not this interpretation of the scene is correct or not it still gives the character a bit more agency than some versions have done with their identity reveals.

  In Spider-Man 2 Peter starts to lose his powers because he’s having internal conflict about wether or not he should be Spider-Man. Honestly thats kinda neat and i might want to give that a rewatch. As for the one i have seen i don’t have any complaints. I do however prefer the way that Peter was bitten in TAS because it was a result of him poking around where he shouldn’t’ve been rather than him just happening to be standing in the right place for a spider to land on him. 

  Onto TH’s movies; the way Disney has treated Spidey in the MCU is why TH’s is my least favorite version of the character. I feel like too much of the story revolves around Iron Man; Iron Man made Peter’s suit and equipment, Iron Man introduces Peter to the MCU(via blackmail but thats another rant for another annoyingly long post), its Iron Man that “makes” Spidey in this universe rather than Spidey being self-made. In Homecoming(which remember i havent seen outside of clips so bear with me) most of the conflict is cause directly or indirectly by Tony’s refusal or inabilty to communicate with the teenager he’s meant to be mentoring

 For one the entire incident with the ferry could have very easily been avoided had Tony bothered to communicate with Peter enough to tell him that the situation was being taken care of. On top of that at the moive’s climax Peter is shown trying to get in contact with Happy(from what ive picked up isnt he a chauffeur? like idk his deal i just know he’s someone Peter got pawned off onto after Civil War). Peter even goes as far as to somehow hack into Happy’s phone(i think thats what happened it was a weird tech thing that shouldve been a red flag that the call was important though) but instead of listening; Peter is ignored. If this was a different kind of movie Peter literally could have died and itd be the fault of Happy and Tony like..... A large portion of conflict comes from characters being incompetent and not communicating and thats just poor storytelling.

Before this turns too much into an anti mcu rant id also like to say that the way they did Civil War was really dumb considering that Peter defects to Cap’s side in the comics, but whatever.

 Also i loathe the way they handled the identity reveal at the end of Far From Home. With MCU movies most people know to expect an end credits scene by now, but typically that scene is not important to understand what’s happening in the films; they just aren’t important. Putting an identity reveal here makes it seem significantly less important than it is. On top of that i dislike their use of J Jonah Jameson for this scene.

  JJJ is a character who has been repeatedly shown to have a genuinely good heart. All of his anger comes from a place of love for his city(he even says this hemself in the ps4 game when May writes in to tell him that he needs help). He hates Spider-Man because SM reminds him of the masked man who killed his wife; JJJ has never been able to get past that( and Peter’s antagonism of him definitely doesnt help) However, JJJ has been shown to care for people; he has a son who he often brags about, and one comic shows that JJJ is paying Peter for “amateur” quality photos because he knows that Peter is having a hard time and “just need some help”. JJJ has even learned Peter’s identity before and kept his secret for him(seriously though i cant remember the name of the comic but its defiantly worth the read), and in the original trilogy when Goblin threatens JJJ he claims that he doesn’t know who sends in the photos of Spidey because he does it via email( this is a lie). The MCU will have a very difficult time convincing me that JJJ would ever out a teenager’s identity and put him in danger like that. It goes too far against his character.(this could be hypocritical of me to say considering how i just insisted that multiple versions of a character can exist but whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) 

This is accidentally turning into an MCU rant but id also like to say that i hate the lack of a TH!Spidey origin movie because it gives you no motivaion for Peter becoming SM or explanation of his powers; most people will know these things but if youre unfamiliar with the character its bound to be confusing(and im a sucker for origin movies)

[11toe11-blog]

oNce again on that sTreet

I suppose I am at a point where, i need to sit down and draw this out of me. Clean the well.

Shuba asked me yesterday. Why dont i write. I do. Almost every other day. About something or the other. As observations. Contemplations. Very rarely once in a while meanders into poetry and almost never creative fiction.

I am...afraid of fiction.

There i said it. 

I suppose then its corollary goes that I am afriad of reality. Maybe. 

But let me start with fiction and try and lean into the obvious and apparent fear of fiction. As i write i notice a weight, a clenching in the middle of my chest. And rolling up to my throat. 

But lets persist this one time. 

I am making it a point to note the very obvious physical sensations as i write. 

So yes, fear of fiction.

Yesterday Rajiv shared a talk between Marina Abramovic and Alejandro I ( I forget the surname but the same guy who made birdman). Talkin about Virtual Reality as the next frontier of creative exploration after film, he mentioned about how the human brain makes no distinction between reality and fiction. Obviously more so in case of VR, but garden variety novels and comic strips and books and stories and theatre and film and all of that fall into that space where the brain makes no distinction between what is my reality lived and expereinced and, even if briefly the story of another. From experience i know, some of us are better than others at extricating ourselves from the story we entered to continue walking in the present, many of us carry the seeds and suggestions of te story, and many many of us  remain in the story. 

That makes stories very powerful and dangerous.

That makes story tellers very powerful and dangerous.

Layers and layers of stories wrapped around. Layers and layers of memories. Layers and layers of connections. Gateways of infinite possibilities on one had. And very own, home spun energy leeching coccoon on the other.

My brain particularly has had difficulties distinguishing stories and reality. Ive grown up with stories. Like most kids. Like most kids who loved loved listening and reading to stories and were surrounded by generous adults who lavished attention as stories of adventures great and small, stories read or retold or instantly woven.

By the time i started on film, I could watch a movie. And sit then later sit and play the whole thing back and watch it in my mind. My own personal Netflix. I could run it when ever i was alone - in the loo, before i slept, when i woke up, yada.

After my sexual encounter with an older cousin at the age of 8 years, these films began to have distinct sexual content too. I could replace characters. Mix up relationships.  Easily enter relams of taboo.  So while outwardly i was struggling with the shame and social anxities and adaptation, my inner world and ofcourse my body demanded the thrill of the grind. That heightended feeling when one could rub ones vagina against something. A swollen penis covered by denim, a leg, a thigh, another vagina, pillow.

Well, given a young girl in kerala, i am sure you can imagine the confusion of the middle class family facing their own share of social and emtional hardships. The school that preffers children like a batch of uniformed cupcakes. Encountering this strange child who seemed wild and untamable. Plenty of trashings and socail embarassments and isolations.

Ofcourse not to mention, adventures. And misadventures.

I suppose since my mind could go anywhere, into any restricted area, physical restrictions made no sense. I remember dreaming up a story of the romance between two of my young teachers, both married to different people. Can you beleive the thrashing i got when i started telling these stories and it finally reached my teacher.

Or of imaging the sex lives of the young Brahmin couple with a child and parents living with them. I imagined them waking up after everyone had gone to bed and first the guy would make his way to the bathroom aoutside and then the wife would follow him. And there they would have steamy sex, have a quiet shower together and sneak back into the house. 

I was happily making porn even before internet.

Well. I suppose so was the rest of the state, i suppose. The older i grew, i dont think i accepted it because i probably had drawn a veil of self-propriety, most of the people around me too were living out imgained sexual fantasies. That was hard to accept. 

Like knowing that my father had affairs of sorts, or walking into him holding the handsof the servant girl in the darkest corner of the house and him suddenly making a scene about her having not done some work and her giggling. Or my mother hinting constantly at my fathers transgressions and waywardness, possibly to allay her own pressures and guilt of pleasures. 

Knowing that my mother lied to me about her relationship with her best friend...what was simple and liberal suddenly turned murky. And murkier when she had a strange toxic sexual relationship with the substaff in her office. Depiste the sick sadomachotistic territory it went through and put all of us through, the class-lessness also  mattered to me too i suppose. And years of silence and protecting honor and holding the family together and all those things

A simultaneous tightening and release of the chest.

Why did i  meander into this dark alley? Because stories are full of dark alleys. The mind is full of dark alleys. How to shine some light could be what stories are about. 

BUt then, in the hands of some, its possible to turn off the lights too with stories.

In my adult identity, i am surrounded by storytellers. Not passively as a book full of shelves or a netflix account. But the creators - film makes, illustrators, theatre makers, movers, singers, spiritual seekers, dream makers. At briefly before - journalitsts, PR gus, activists, hope makers. And before that colleges/ schools - naarative makers.

So yea, I am surrounded by storytellers. I chose this, obviously. I chose in my life path to be surrounded by storytellers. Yet i want nothing to do with them . 

As much as a part of me years to play and spin with them. Another part of me is terrified of them.

The tricksters.

Who can make one buy into anything. Any idea. Lose ones self in a moment. 

Offer ones mind on a platter. Mind and energy. 

I doubt their intentions.

What do they want my attention for?

What are they going to do with all this attention they are getting? All this fuel they draw out of people and surroundings, what are they offering it to? Whose altar do they worship?

Obviously i havent never articulated these out aloud.

 I would be without friends. Well over time i have ver very few anyways. So thats hardly the problem. I suppose the reasin i have never articulated this out aloud is probably beacuse, the three fingers point at me. I suspect corruption, because i have seen corruption within me.

The creating and dismantling of identities, hunting for attention, people becoming pawns, ambition, self obsession, narcissism, vacume. Addiction to the drama. 

A vehicle, for the archtypes to do their dance. Chewed and spat out and regenerated and chewed and spat out and gathering sharrered pieces of life only to be chewed again. Reminds me of the moringa. BUt clearly the moringa is not complaining. I am. 

Some part of me has had enough. With the circus. The puppet life.

Another part of is there, waiting in the wings on my toes to be swept in.

While i was always curious about the mind, i suppose it was never with this focus, this drive to tame it. And somewhere even in that i know i am still dancing, even if it appears like a non-dance. Kalari, Vipassna, Tai Chi, Tantra, Ramana. Even art therapy.

All of it is for self knowledge. And ofcourse the practises are taking one there, otherwise how else would this note have been possible. Though in my attitude, i am at war. There is a war for awareness and attention. I am at war with my mind. Even as i write it, i know how futile it is - same dog pulling at opposite ends of the same bone. How? Dog will go hungry. Period. 

Meaningless.

I suppose the idea is to trust ones self. And self will take care of the mind. So in effect, even trust the mind because one has already trusted ones self. But my mind has gotten me into so much trouble, made friends with the craziest of archetypes that i am afriad. Yes, i am afriad of it. That it will get me into trouble again. I wont be able to distinguish  and centre. And another archtype will possess and ride me. And my mind, will let it.

And all over again, i will lose my sense of self.

Pain. Confusion. Loss of dignity. Loss of stability. All of that i associate with that. And i am just resurfacing after one recent round. Brinks of insanity.

I suppose that is why i practise and hold on to the forms that have come to me. Kalari, Vipassana, Tai Chi. Thy have travelled through time. Stood the tests of the mind to anhilate them. And with them, Ill hopefully be able to fashion a key. To keep me safe.

Lightening of chest

There i said it. And i see that i am clinging. All this, to be safe. And if it is clinging to safety, it is the ego. Which wants to be safe. The mind wants to be safe from itself. Hirlarious!

Like puppet theatre. One hand plays red riding hood and the other hand plays the big bad wolf.

Distracting me from the puppeteer. 

Why?

If i see the puppeter ill want to be the puppeteer?

Deep breath

I know i have a blindspot. Somewhere. And my attention moves from being the red riding hood or the wolf or the chase. Maybe if i was able to spot the blind spot, ill get to be the puppeter.

The puppeteer who either a good guy or a bad guy, being puppetered in a meta play. In a meta play. Loop. 

Theatre of Earth.

It endless. And no way out. 

Yes, way. Buddha way.

But that doesnt seem to be my question now.

It seems to be, how do i get to play the playwright in one of the plays, at whever level. What is there to lose. Its all only a play. 

Playwright. Setting the frame for the magic. Or witch craft as someone in the comment section of the Marina- Alejandro talk said. Fiddling with the Tao. Not letting nature be. Not letting it be, but manipulating it. Power play. 

The fundamantal question posed by monotheistic practises to the tantric/multi - must the mindscape be meddled with? 

BUt then, unless we are in a continuus state of observation - are we continously always meddling with the mindscape one way or the other? Setting intention , desiring outcomes. God on No God. Arent we taking part in changing the play, upstaging the director, the playwright one way or the other.

Isnt every upstaging also written into the meta play?

What is one to do?

To do or not to do?

Even non doing actively is still doing - reminds ramana.

In flow, even doing feels like non doing - from expereince.

In earlier attempts to create full length work. Infact in earlier writings big or small, iremember most of it being largely dark, and  not wanting to share / put out there the very dark ones. 

My first play, petticoats still sits in paper after many rewritings.Because i couldnt bring myself to put much dark ness out there. Because in the process of rewiting it, i felt i had given into something very dark and powerful, and expereinced wanting to manipulate - lash out at the audience. Expereinced being manipulated - my own life giving way at the seams and lines got blurred.

Powerful forces, i have now come to understand. 

Similar experience with the art therpay project too.

And now a word to get a sense of it - archetypes. 

But hey! I survived. I am writing this am i not. So what am i scared of? The pain and agony and confusion. Losing balance. Giving into the dark egoistic mind.

Somewhere the mind gents hijacked - i stop being the story teller / reseacher and becomes a character - self obsessed and seeking power. One of the default slip intos.

So what am i saying?

So basically, i am/you are saying, i/you want to open this door. But i know this dragon awaits behind it. I have lost it, been mauled by it multiple times. And i am shit scared of opening that door and being mauled. 

Is there a way for me to tame the dragon?

Or should i just walk away from the door and forget all about the dragon. There is a very good chance that it might reappear else where.  Atleast in this case, it is a known devil.

My sisters instagram post just read “ My friend is an artist. And he likes my company. Do i need more validation?” 

A muse, channeler of inspiration. One has been that. But that didnt suffice. I want to be “one of them”, clearly. Yet, i want nothing to do with them clearly.

Do i weild a tool, a weapon or not. 

If i weild it, i can choose not to use it.

If i dont weild it?

I suppose there is so much ego still left in me, that i dont want to play second fiddle. I want my own sunshine. 

Or ……..

Lets look at it another way

is it an exercise is self discovery self knowlege? Then the entire approach is observational - comprehend and understand and question the self - rather than say and state.

An enquirey. v/s An expression

All enquireys are expressions

All expressions need not be enquireys

What is the fundamental question - Abhishek had asked. In my first playwrighting process.

I thought, at that time, that it had to be an intelligent question

Today after a decade of life, i understand that to be - What is the question i am/you are/ one is seeking to find an answer to? What are you grappling with? Articulate it into a question the best you can and explore it the medium of writing aplay. Use your imagination - to move characters- change them, puppeterr - but remember the essence - it is not for you to gain power. Play god, no and then let it go into your head. And be devoured by your own demon. No. Thats happened enough now. So we now know what not to do. And what this is not. 

Now the essence is to - very clearly, scientifically - explore humbly. Approach your gift of imagination - humbly. Opening the door gently. Entering softly - EVERY TIME. With great respect.

And work / play there with the questions. 

And quietly and humbly leave. Taking no more. Demanding no more that thevery process of observation and meaning making.

Reminds me of sandplay.

In the 6 pages and 2 hours, i feel a certain reassurance. I feel like i have asked, without really knowing how to ask. And have been answered to.  Quietly.

Keep the frame wide. And work fiercely to be regular. But with gentleness. And deep honesty. 

Go on and write. 

You can make meaning in many ways for yourself. Writing is one of your earliest tools. Use it to make friends with the dragon behind the door.

You have a very solid physical practise to ground yourself, to navigate the storms. The body practice and the garden. Trust that.

Between the two, the earthing of the physical discipline and access to the mindscapes, you will start finding meaning.

That itself is the purpose. To find meaning.

Remember to enter mindscape, imagination only after knocking on its door. And to close the door behind you as you leave. 

It is the great seas. You know that already. Offer her respects. She will test you to see if you have come/become greeedy. Remind her and yourself that youve come for meaning. ANd truth.

Meaning is truth after all. Layers stacked up, coinciding for a perfect opening. Insight.

Where is love in all this? I wondered

What is not love? Pat comes the answer.

[thesignsofjohnlock]

Balletlock & Rugby!John

Forces of Nature by Ewebie, 18 k words, explicit, unilock. Sherlock decides to take some time off during summer break to relax in a cabin by a lake and catch up on his journal reading. Too bad his neighbor across the water is a hot rugby captain out swimming and doing pornographic yoga at dawn. Thumbs up for a really fab fic complete with sloooow hammock sex. YES!

on the field (i remember, you were incredible) by trustingno1, 1.4 k, teen. cute little one shot – teenlock, rugby John. – THUMBS UP

Studio 4 by JohnlockTheDoctor, 3.2k, explicit. Teenlock. John’s the rugby captain and Sherlock likes ballet. An unusual friendship that gets them sprawled out on a studio floor. Sexytimes soon follow.  CUTE, short

The Dancer and The Captain by Mssmithlove, 17 k, explicit.  Teenlock Balletlock is smitten and so is Rugbyjohn. John frightens off the bullies.

Wishing You Were Somehow Here by Mssmithlove, 10 k, explicit.  Unilock. While John chases his dream of becoming a professional rugby player, Sherlock is stuck at University, wishing he’d come back and prove that he is, in fact, Sherlock’s boyfriend since no one on campus seems to believe him.

Pas de Deux by prettysailorsoldier, 12k, mature. When Sherlock gets banished to the Year 13 corridor, he finds himself with a new locker neighbor: John Watson, the enigmatic captain of the rugby team whom the teachers love and girls swoon at the sight of, but Sherlock isn’t charmed. Not in the slightest. They start hanging out. Sherlock doesn’t know if John likes him like THAT but at least John chases away the bullies as they become friends.

Many Things by iamaqualady, 499, general.  Watson’s bringing his girl to practice, or, at least, that’s what the boys think.

Tombé by cryme_anocean , 10 k teen, Sherlock Holmes hates his coworkers. Well, he does until they introduce him to the cute jogger boy who runs past their bakery every Saturday morning. Later, John loves that Sherlock dances, and hates that he has bullies after him – something he aims to change.

Five times Sherlock and John pretended to be a couple (and one time they didn’t) by ColdeLinke, 3k mature. Teenlock. Really cute – a series of scenarios where John and Sherlock pretend to be a couple for various reasons for other people, until they don’t need to pretend anymore.

Pas de Deux by shevrlock, 22 k, explicit. (Inspired by Billy Elliot.) Sherlock Holmes is a gifted ballet dancer dealing with bullies in industrial, unforgiving 1980s Newcastle. Meeting John Watson is the best thing that could have happened, despite the hate and homophobia they must deal with to be together.

The Doubtful Comforts of Human Love by PoppyAlexander, 61 k words, mature. Subtitled “Or the Adventure of the Red Shoes.” This is Balletlock and Rugby!John at middle age. The two have been together simply forever, and have drifted farther and farther apart over the years. A string of murders around Sherlock’s ballet company has them jolting out of their complacency.  

Soutenu series,  by FivePips, four works. John Watson is a new physiotherapist for the Royal Ballet and Sherlock Holmes is a Principal Dancer. Sherlock has an eating disorder, and really doesn’t want John to know.

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin, 15 k, explicit. In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

Props by LadyKailitha, 16 k, mature. When ballet virtuoso, Sherlock Holmes gets a table at the fanciest restaurant in town for his mother’s birthday, he didn’t expect the maitre d’ to give his table away to rugby champion, John Watson. John, gracious as he is good-looking, offers to share the table. Sparks fly.

Blond Barista Seeks Dashing Ballet Dancer: Inquire Within by prettysailorsoldier, 43 k, explicit. Unilock. Between classes, his job at a local cafe, and being captain of the rugby team, John Watson’s life is plenty stressful enough without the addition of a mysterious ballet dancer he can see through the windows of the dance studio across the street, but, somehow, he can’t bring himself to mind.

Overture by dreadpiratewatson, 28 k, mature. Sherlock Holmes, a shy, aloof ballet dancer, loves ballet, and ballet only. He tried it once, being in love, but after humiliation and heartbreak, he swore it off forever. Then, John Watson comes along, and turns his world upside down.

A Study in Movement by Supernova12, 69 k, explicit. Teenlock. John drops in on the ballet class to sketch dancers as movement reference for his comic book. One of the dancers, Sherlock Holmes, is amazing.

Out of Step by prettysailorsoldier, 13 k, explicit. John is surprisingly at peace with the recent changes in his life, taking a job as the rugby coach at a secondary school after being discharged from the army, but, when he finds out being part of the school community also means helping out with the annual Christmas production, he’s slightly less keen on the whole affair.

Entre Nous (Between Us) by hogwartswitch, 38 k, explicit. A chance encounter with a blonde stranger on New Year’s Eve in London leaves ballet dancer, Sherlock Holmes, breathless. Five years later, he meets a rugby-playing doctor who turns his world upside down.

Two Peas in a Pod by taylorann14, 6 k, teen. John Watson is a new student, he’s a rugby player. He’s a closeted bisexual. Sherlock Holmes is seen as a freak, but John doesn’t understand why. The two form an unlikely friendship that blossoms into something beautiful.

Un Malentendu by crookedbow, 1.6 k, teen. Sherlock hears John telling his rugby mates that they’re “just mates,” it’s not like that, and can’t help being angry.

Winter Break by NerdyMind, 19 k, mature. Unilock. “It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.” Miscommunication, misunderstandings and near-misses oh my!

He’s All That by fiveainley_ohmy, 14 k, teen. When the school it-boy, John Watson, gets dumped by his girlfriend, he’s issued a challenge. The stakes? The title of Prom King. The objective? Make Sherlock Holmes popular. It was a bet John couldn’t lose. There’s just one complication: John didn’t expect to fall in love. (An adaptation of 1999’s She’s All That.)

The Dancer by paleolithic_demitasse, 8 k, teen. John and Sherlock admire each other from afar before they’re brought together in unlikely ways. Whether those be a forgotten phone, a chance encounter or a party on New Year’s Eve, there’s something there that neither of them want to admit (or deny).…

Johnloctober by prettysailorsoldier, 169 k, explicit. 31 days of autumnal Johnlock with prompts from all of you! There will be a bit of everything, but you can check the tags for more specifics.

The Lone Dancer by merelysherlocked, 56 k, teen. Sherlock Holmes tries to keep the fact that he dances ballet to himself, but that only makes other people think that he’s a freak at school. John Watson is a popular kid who plays rugby. He is nice to everyone, even Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock doesn’t think John will stay after he stands up for him one day, but John does.

Act IV: Andante Grazioso by lemmonysnippets (hum_hum_humbug), 3 k, teen.  Teenlock. John catches Sherlock dancing Swan Lake in the studio, hoping to talk about something that’s been bothering him for weeks.

Open or Closed? by dragonQuill907, 8 k, teen. Unilock. In which they’re all in uni, Irene’s having a party, and they decide to play truth or dare  

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42, 69 k, explicit. John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn’t need the headache.

Not As It Seems by Irrevocably_Sherlocked, 4 k, teen. It wouldn’t do to have his secret exposed. Not now, not when he and the boy he shared the small flat with were beginning to become something like friends. Sherlock couldn’t let John know he was a ballet dancer.

7 minutes by Salambo06, 9 k, explicit. Teenlock. Rugby!John & Balletlock. For some reason John and Sherlock end up in a closet together for a stupid party game.

a matter of missed connections by beeeskneees, 16 k, explicit. Unilock. When trying to text a girl he met in a pub, the wrong number John’s been given ends up putting him in contact with a mysterious and interesting man who goes by ‘SH.’ Bored and young and reckless, John keeps texting, and keeps texting, and keeps texting.

Atelophobia and Arabesques by dreadpiratewatson, 4 k, teen. Sherlock Holmes takes ballet very seriously. He has an audition lined up with the Royal Academy of Dance, and he’s willing to do anything to get the position, and be absolutely perfect, even run himself into the ground. John Watson has something to say about that.

[samanthasroberts]

The Great Dying: Happiness Comes on Day Five

My family has come to Hawaii.

Hawaii, like an aging model, is still gorgeousjust sometimes in a fragile, wasted way.

My parents were here a long time ago; they came on their honeymoon, back in the Old World times. They bought a hotel-and-airfare package to Honolulu. They went scuba diving in the coral reefs and touched real rays and even one dolphin, they said.

Of course thats not an option anymore, but you can snorkel all you like in fiberglass reefs stocked with colorful farmed parrotfish and now and then a robot shark.

I love the parrotfishs bulgy, fat lips.

Lydia Millet

About

Lydia Millet is an American novelist and conservationist. Her third novel, My Happy Life, won the 2003 PEN Center USA Award for fiction, and she has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize as well as a Guggenheim fellow. Her newest novel for young readers, The Bodies of the Ancients, comes out in January. The Great Dying is adapted from her YA book Pills and Starships, published by Akashic.

Back then, they ate at restaurants with views of sparkling aqua-blue bays; they went to luaus and drank fancy drinks with paper umbrellas. (We still have those; some of them have my parents names printed on them, from a honeymoon party that was held for them. robert & sara, says the faded writing, hawaii, may 2068.) They took small trips to the other islands, even the one that used to be a leper colony.

These days Honolulu and most of Oahu are seawall and salty aquifers and long, long blocks of abandoned buildings.

But they wanted Hawaii anyway. They were nostalgic. So this time we came to the Big Island, where were staying in a hotel with a view of Mauna Kea. Ive seen pictures of it from way back when, white at the top and majestic. Theres never snow anymore, even at 14,000 feet, but the volcano still looms.

Its just the four of us: my mother and my father, my little brother, and me. Its the four of us here for our last week.

A week is the period the companies usually suggest, once you finalize dates. Any longer and customers can get morbid, or even, if they decide to refuse their pharma, hysterical. And then the whole thing collapses. Any shorter and theres not enough time for good-byes.

My parents arent even that old. My mother had me in her late sixties, and two years later she had Samand though theyre vigorous and healthy on a physical level, on an emotional level theyve decided theyre done.

This would be harder without the training we did at home, without the pharma regimen they have us on. Even with those tools its still intense and vibrant, and everything seems inflected with meaning. Cursed with meaning, almost. Meaning attaches itself to everyday objectstoothbrushes, swimsuits, dangly earrings. Here in the hotel suite, I look at these normal items and everything seems like it portends something.

We just got here and already were on the brink of tears at times, or at least my mother and I are. My father and Sam are trying to act stoic, though now and then I catch one of their hands or a bottom lip trembling.

Meanwhile the edges of objects glow, blur, and fade as I look at them. They all seem permeable or aliveas though the aliveness of objects is there to compensate for my parents being ready to die.

I dont think its the pharma thats doing it, either. Sam and I arent even on a full pill regimen yet. On Day Four well have the option of a powerful tranquilizing blend: Thats Good-Bye Day. They like the contract holders to have their memories intact to say good-bye, because the fifth days pharmathe last pharmacauses forgetfulness. It brings on a long-term memory loss that wipes all memories associated with trauma, so they go out happy.

Happiness comes on Day Five.

Its early afternoon. My parents and my brother have gone out for a walk, and from the balcony of our suite I can see them strolling, their light clothes flapping in the breeze off the ocean, on a trail along the high jagged bluffs.

They carry umbrellas that protect them from the sun but also hide their faces from me. They could be anyone.

The bluffs were well engineered and have been planted to look wild, in a fake way. There are scrubby bushes from the desert, South American cacti and Chinese beach roses (according to the brochure) and even, now and then, dune grasses and sand. They hide the concrete seawall beneath the artificial bluffs so that you dont have to remember where you are or whenso you can almost forget youre not in Old Hawaii. Forget, in other words, that youre living at the tiny tail end of the fire-breathing dragon of our history.

The company my parents chose is a midsize outfit that likes to boast how it hires locals. So our rep, when it came down to it, was a lady my mother had once played golf with.

My mother isnt the golf type at all, by the way. She barely knows how to play, but one time she competed in a small-golf game for charityits mostly small golf these days, unless you have huge money to throw away on travel to one of the big courses, plus water-use finesand because she had a good sense of humor, at least till recently, she was basically the comic relief, I think.

But that one day was when she first met the rep, Jean.

Jean showed up at our apartment a couple of months ago, in the hour before dinnertime when we usually hang out together and talk about our day and stuff. The four of us were drinking cocktails in the living room. Being 15, Sam doesnt drink that much yet, but my mother had offered him a junior can of wheat beer.

And there she was at the doora compact, middle-aged woman from the 10th floor, frosted hair, braided wedge heels. Id seen her in the elevator once or twice.

This is Jean, said my mother softly. Jean, these are our children, Nat and Sam.

My name is Natalie, but I go by Nat.

The woman smiled and sat down and looked at us with a gentle but still oddly businesslike expression.

Your parents thought it might be good to have me here is how she started in.

Sam looked up right away. Hed been reading off his device.

Youre service, he said flatly.

I do work with a service company, said Jean.

She didnt miss a beat and didnt seem awkward; she had a forthright attitude without being domineering.

Youre the counselor, or whatever they call them, said Sam.

Im coordinating the personal aspect of outreach, conceded Jean.

On the contract we purchased recently, put in my mother, soft-voiced. Mine and your fathers.

Sam picked up his beer and drank most of the rest of it, a flush rising on his skin.

I had been sitting at the bay window, looking out over the garden. Our apartment complex was nice, with trees and water features and little striped chipmunks, because chipmunks always poll higher than squirrels.

Anyway, I liked to drink and take in the view.

But then, without really noticing my own movement, I turned so I was facing the room, my back against the view of the trees. In the pit of my stomach was a heavy new stone. At the same time my arms and legs felt light and liquid, like the bones in them had softened.

Why didnt you tell me? was the thing I said.

Were telling you now, sweetheart, said my mother, coming to sit beside me on the ledge. She put one arm around my shoulders. Its all according to schedule. The timing is what they recommend.

They encourage the parents not to get emotive when theyre disclosing. It only makes things worse. So my mother sat there next to me, her arm on my shoulders light, keeping a kind of professional attitude. With her free hand, she shook the cubes in her glass and raised it to drink.

My father stood facing us all with his tumbler of whiskey. His face bore a kind, bemused expression, as it used to when Sam or I would cry and he had no idea how to stop it.

You can still take it back, said Sam, with a kind of hurt urgency. Please, MomDad! Take it back!

Honey, said my mother, we dont want to. Or maybe a better way to say it is that we weve lived for you two ever since the tipping point, sweetheart. Youve been whats kept us going.

The tipping point was when we couldnt do anything more to stop the planets runaway warming. There were feedback loops in the climate system, like the albedo effect and water vapor increase in the atmosphere and plankton die-off in the oceans. So even though wed stopped emitting so much carbon and methane, we couldnt stop the seas or the temperature from rising. At least for a few centuries.

Both of you are practically grown up, said my mother. And when it comes right down to it, you dont really need usnot in the day-to-day sense. You think you do, maybe. But we know deep down that you can take care of yourselves. And you will.

You cant say what were feeling, said Sam, shaking his head. Only what you are.

It helps, for peace of mind, said Jean to Sam, if you keep argumentation for later. During this encounter, this time of disclosure, weve found that what allows for peacefulness is just listening.

Fuck listening! said Sam.

He was bright redlike someone had dealt him two slaps, one on each cheek.

And really, went on Jean calmly, as though he hadnt said anything, theres no rush here. Theres plenty of time. Remember, all contracts are voidable right up until the end. So theres absolutely nothing to make you nervous.

She didnt mention what we all knew: that theres a stiff financial penalty for last-minute cancellations. She didnt need to. My parents knew a couple whod canceled just five hours before their contract was about to start, but at that point it cost like 90 percent of the full price. And they ended up buying a new contract a couple of months later. That meant less money for the survivorsa tainted legacy.

But youre doing so well, begged Sam, turning to my mother.

I felt frozen.

Youre doing really well, youve got your moods well stabilized lately, he added.

No, yeah, son, said my father. Well were not too bad off. Were not personally complaining. We feel so lucky, compared to lots of people. No question. And you knowits not any one big thing. You know? Its not a dramatic situation, theres no particular, exact catalyst here. But we feel like, for one, heywhy not quit while were still ahead? You know, leave while weve got our health. And theres still no impairment. We all saw how Mamie got after she passed 100.

Youll be all right. You have such great resilience, added my mother. Wewe think youre very strong.

Oh please, said Sam.

Try to see it from our point of view, my father said. When we were young, there were still big animals swimming all over the oceans. The rivers and the forests had all this life in them, not just the squirrels and pigeons. You could go anywhere in the worldwe drove a gas-burning car when we were young. We flew on huge airplanes. Whenever we wanted to!

My parents keep thinking, somehow, that one day well hear about how different the world used to be and for the first time well understand them.

But isnt the world always different for the kids than it was for the parents? Sure, maybe its more different now. We get it.

But this is the only world we ever knew.

For Old World people like us, you know, said my mother, weve had as much as we can take of seeing everything go away. And we dont think we can bear towhat happens if, if it keeps going how we think it will.

Of course, we hope and pray it wont, said my father staunchly, tossing back the last of his whiskey. We figure, go early, while everythingswhile theres still hope. You know.

But I knew what he wasnt saying: They couldnt stand to see our future. They couldnt stand to watch us struggle.

Its never an easy decision, put in Jean.

Not helpful, I thought.

But then, the companies put the counselors in the room partly to deflect the family members feelings. Or fears and tears, as they say.

Your mother is so tired, Sam, said my father. He was fiddling with a pile of black and green olives on a tray. The olives were stacked in a pyramid, like in a picture Id once seen of ancient cannonballs. They should have been a tipoff that this was a special occasion, so to speak, because olives arent the kind of food we get every day. We both are, if Im perfectly honest, he added.

We sat there for a while, not knowing what to say.

Eventually Jean suggested we take a walk outside, through the courtyards of the complex. Walks are popular with service companies. Low-cost momentum, I guess, and a natural mood boost.

So we prepared ourselves fresh drinks, mostly in awkward silence, and took them with us into the elevator. We gazed outside as the car descended.

The elevators in our complex are external and made of a shaded glass, so you can see the sky and then the buildings below it, and as you drop, the trees in the courtyard come up to meet you.

Down through the green canopy, down along the tree trunks. Finally we landed facing the rock gardens, the fountains and splashing waterfalls of perfectly reclaimed sewage.

What a nice evening, said my mother, and we looked up dutifully at the fading bands of red and yellow in the western sky.

One thing we do have, in the New World, is beautiful sunsets.

I think what put my parents over the edge was a trip they took a few months ago, a light-rail weekender to the place where my father grew up. It wasnt a coastal town in the strict senseit wasnt right on the beachbut it was on a river delta, maybe 20 miles from where the true coast used to be. When the first storm surges came that couldnt be stopped by seawalls, the town got an influx of coastal refugees. Wave after wave followed, though most of the people didnt stay. Back then they were migrating to places like Ogallala, with fertile land or thick forests. If you look at an old map animation, you can see the masses moving away from the coasts, inward and upward from New York and Florida, from Southern California and the dying cities of the desertLas Vegas and Phoenix, say. The animations look like storms or vast, sky-darkening flocks of birds.

Sometimes, at home, I take a mild mood softener, sit at my screen, and gaze at the animations dreamily. You can customize them to show whatever details you wantthe continent shrinking as the oceans rise plus the massive migrations. I also like to watch the building of the seawalls. You see the swamping of Cape Cod, the swallowing up of the Florida Keys. Islands all over the oceans contract to the size of pinheads, then vanish. You can zoom way out and watch the planet rotate, see the surges of ocean that followed the melting of the ice.

Theres something lovely about it, lovely like Eno or Mozart, thoughespecially without pharmait can be sad.

Anyway, my fathers hometown had been leveled by the waves of refugee camps. Nothing was left of the houses and gardens of his leafy street, the school he walked to holding his younger brothers hand, the swing sets and climbing gyms at the park where he played. All that was gonethe whole town had turned to tent cities and landfills and fields of composting toilets.

My dads baby brother died a while back, a do-it-yourself deal. He hated the service companies. So other than us, my dad has no family left.

For a while after that weekend trip, he and my mother were so quiet that sometimes we forgot they were there.

Before we left for Hawaii, my parents helped Sam and me move to a group facility for survivors who arent old enough to live alone. The two of us will go back there after the trip, to live for a few months till I turn 18.

Then, the morning we left, Sam and I picked them up to catch the boat that brought us here. That was the worst. The apartment where we had lived was bare. Their luggage stood in a neat row against the wall, small cases packed with only bedrolls, some toiletries, and a few clothes. It was a shock to see the sterile whiteness of what used to be home.

Well, said my mother, turning back to cast a glance at the empty living room as we were filing out the front door, good-bye, everything.

Sams coming up the path again toward the hotel building, so close hes almost beneath meI see the circle of his shiny white umbrella. My parents arent with him. I squint: I can still see the two of them, out at the edge of the cliff.

The oceans turning anoxic, scientists say. Its what happened 250 million years ago in the Great Dying, otherwise known as the P-T extinction eventthe biggest mass die-off in Earths history. And now its happening again. The seawaters turned more acid from the carbon its storing, so the ocean food chain has mostly collapsed. Big burps of methane are bubbling out of the water along the continental shelves.

Where there used to be corals and whales and sea lions and seahorses, now theres mostly bacteria and archaea and viruses. The odd school of mutated jellyfish. Plus the garbage vortex and the chemical streams.

But still, Mom and Dad stand at the edge of the bluff, their arms around each others waists, and look out over the faraway waves like anything could be therelike those waves might still be the glittering roof of a marvelous underwater country.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

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Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/14/the-great-dying-happiness-comes-on-day-five/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/14/the-great-dying-happiness-comes-on-day-five/