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autumnblogs · 3 years

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Day 51: Estrangement from The Self

https://homestuck.com/story/5935

I didn’t really take Terezi’s problem with Faygo seriously the first couple times reading Homestuck, but in terms of the way that Homestuck’s different characters mirror each other, and the Trolls’ bizarre alien problems are used to directly comment on human problems, I think it makes sense to say that Terezi’s Soda Abuse should be taken exactly as seriously as Rose’s alcohol abuse.

Rose and Terezi only interact a handful of times, which is a shame, because on a certain level, they share the same basic problem; a lack of faith in the people around them combined with a crippling lack of self-worth. Though they both have strong narcissistic tendencies, Rose and Terezi display over and over again a desperate need for affirmation, and when they can’t get it from their peers, they seek it from other sources; Terezi’s manipulation by Aranea, in this sense, is parallel to Scratch’s manipulation of Rose in terms of the motivation of the one being manipulated.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/5936

(More indication that being on the God Tiers literally elevates characters to exist more on the narrative layer than they did before.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5937

In theory, I want the story to reward Dave’s newfound aloof optimism, but I think he’s still like... going too far in the other direction from where he started. We know he’s been questioning his relationship to Bro’s weird ideology, and he’s clearly less interested in being a Hero than he “should be” - but he’s still coping with his emotions mostly just by not acknowledging them.

He’s in for a rude awakening when he gets to the new session.

I should note that like, while Karkat and Dave’s friendship develops into a romance instead of into a platonic bromance after the reset, I don’t think we’re given much of an indication that their actual dynamic is all that different aside from being more physical.

https://homestuck.com/story/5944

Davesprite’s story is parallel with Dave’s, and as I’ve probably already said, forms a core part of Homestuck’s narrative about the distributed nature of the self, and the way that we can’t ever really know ourselves perfectly.

There are the literal material distributed selves like Davesprite, or sometimes Brain Ghost Dirk, or all the various versions of a character from other points along their own timeline, or from Doomed Timelines.

Anything we learn about Davesprite helps us to learn more about Dave. Anything we learn about Lil Hal helps us to learn about Dirk.

If Homestuck is about alienation, estrangement, then through characters like Davesprite, and Lil Hal, we learn that these people are not only estranged from each other by time and space, they are even estranged from themselves by the partitions in their own head, and by the way in which they are observed by other people, and form idealized versions of themselves to aspire to that they can never be. Other better versions of themselves exist in other timelines, and two different versions of a character both wish that they were the other.

Paul Tillich, a French existentialist philosopher and theologian talks about the idea of estrangement from the self as being rooted in the same problem that estranges us from others in his essay You are Accepted.

Maybe that’s another thing that I need to write about. I shall probably do so once we get to Davepeta’s talk about the Ultimate Self. (Did I already write a companion piece about it? Maybe I did.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5955

Okay; the plot has switched tracks, but the theme is very much still exactly what it was during Davesprite’s ramble. What is the significance of all of the alternate selves? In keeping with her very Dirk-like adherence to the idea that she is a certain person who is a certain way, and needs to be who she is, Vriska’s conception of all the alternate selves is that they are meaningless and have no signifiance.

I think it’s telling that we don’t really see any alternate Vriskas in this undead army.

https://homestuck.com/story/5957

While this seems extremely obvious to me anyway, it’s worth pointing out that Meenah alludes to the reason why The Condesce has latched onto Jane in pretty much exact words.

She yearns to have an Heiress, someone that she can teach her badass ways. In short, Meenah wants the same thing that Dirk wants - she wants ideological offspring!

https://homestuck.com/story/5961

I think with Andrew’s stated disdain for Worldbuilding (don’t quote me on that; I’m just pretty sure he said it once, and the fact that his villains are the characters who engage in long-winded worldbuilding screeds is suggestive of this as well), this is another way in which He is Fucking With Us.

The worldbuilding gives us symbols we can use to think about the themes the rest of the comic addresses, but broadly speaking, it’s not actually all that consequential.

https://homestuck.com/story/5966

Aranea continues to use language suggesting that she views the universe very much like a single organism - it’s an interesting quirk of hers.

https://homestuck.com/story/5982

As we come up on the conclusion of Disk 2, Aranea’s monologuing definitely recalls Scratch’s monologuing. (And of course, the journal entries from Mindfang before that).

The background information here is definitely relevant for one thing; helping us to understand the emotional background of the characters.

https://homestuck.com/story/5986

Long isolation and hardened pursuit of justice sounds like a certain mail-lady.

https://homestuck.com/story/5997

As in her initial conversation with Terezi, Aranea calls attention to the somewhat “fake” nature of Choice, and libertarian free will as it is often conceived of. It would not be in keeping with Caliborn’s character for him to choose the other option; just as it would seemingly not be in keeping with Vriska’s character for her to abandon her pursuit of power.

https://homestuck.com/story/6017

Terezi’s black and white worldview - her view of acts as good and evil, and her view of people as either good or evil - makes her completely incapable of coping with the shame of her bad decisions. Terezi doesn’t know how to forgive, or what forgiveness looks like - she does not know how to bridge the gap between herself and someone else once they are estranged. She has never been able to forgive Vriska. And she certainly can’t forgive herself. Not for getting into a relationship with Gamzee. Not for becoming addicted to Faygo. Not for repairing her vision. And certainly not for killing Vriska.

https://homestuck.com/story/6020

And Karkat brings it around again to the ongoing conversation about the ways characters are estranged from themselves.

https://homestuck.com/story/6043

Tavros’s single emotional triumph in pretty much the entire story.

He finally ditches his abusive girlfriend, and stops putting up with her.

Ironically, being tolerated in their wickedness is probably the last thing people need when they’re involved with it.

Letting Vriska keep on abusing him is a disservice to both Tavros and Vriska.

Really, it’s best for both of them.

https://homestuck.com/story/6050

Vriska continues the pattern of shit-talking herself. She always vacillates between vastly inflated self-esteem, and complete dejection.

https://homestuck.com/story/6054

Vriska’s vastly inflated ego is part and parcel of her nature as a Thief of Light I think.

Because she doesn’t just think the world of herself in the sense of stealing everyone else’s meaning and relevance.

Vriska assigns all the responsibility in the world to herself. If she doesn’t act, or if she doesn’t, as far as Vriska is concerned, everything that comes to pass, comes to pass because she wills it, at least at the moment.

Vriska Serket is a Megalomaniac of the highest order; she conflates herself with Lord English. She conflates herself with God.

Vriska is as alienated from herself as anyone is, and it’s because she thinks she understands who she truly is, and considers living up to the ideal version of herself a matter of ultimate importance.

https://homestuck.com/story/6056

Kanaya’s intervention is parallel to Dave and Karkat’s.

https://homestuck.com/story/6065

Caliborn has graduated from having nothing but complete disdain for everyone who is not himself to having some use for other people, but even his camaraderie only extends to those who prove themselves useful to him; he makes a mockery of friendship, and his attempts at civility are signifiers as empty as his life is of the possibility of genuine benevolence.

https://homestuck.com/story/6071

Meenah’s emotional theatrics are as genuinely disheartening as they are darkly hilarious because, like Dirk, and like Vriska, Meenah is a Dangerous PersonTM; she views the violence she is capable of as being intrinsic in her nature, and something she basically is incapable of resisting. Like everyone else in the story, Meenah is basically uneasy with who she is, but only a handful of characters are like Meenah in that they are basically resigned to that uneasiness. Instead of doing the things Meenah wants to do, she does the things she does not want to do.

https://homestuck.com/story/6241

So here we are at the end of Disc 2, in the same basic predicament we were at the end of Disc 1.

Everyone is miserable. Everyone’s relationships have broken down all but completely.

Everyone is estranged from each other, and everyone is estranged from themselves, and if they think a cute little reunion is going to resolve all of the emotional problems that they have failed to confront over the past three years, they’re in for a rude awakening.

More tomorrow, as we start in on the final quarter of Homestuck.

See you tomorrow; Same Cam Time, Same Cam Channel

#liveblogging #commentary #paul tillich

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askfriendlyfantroll · 4 years

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Artlyn decides to look for the kismesis of his matespirit. Afterall. She was living with Soe and she had moved in there too, and from what Artlyn could recall, she wasnt that bad. Artlyn: Hey Iggazi, how are you =Doing?

The clown sat up, somewhat surprised. At least the voice sounded familiar, but she was fairly certain no one was visiting anytime soon...

She stretched, using one of her toes to flip on a light switch, she seemed to have taken one of the gaming room's beanbags, which now had a few half empty faygo bottles strewn about, some of it even in tiny plastic tea cups, having been served to a few stuffed animals...

HeLLo. . ? oH! ! ! you'Re Soe'S ReD QuaD, RiGHT? ? ? I'D NoTiCe THaT LiL NeCKLaCe CHaRM aNyWHeRe! ! ! NeVeR aCTuaLLy SaW THiS SiDe oF iT BeFoRe. . .

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luminescentlyricist · 4 years

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🃏 _/[[ JESTER ]] 🃏

This was originally written in time for Halloween! ~

WARNINGS : Blood, gore, minor vomiting and minor drinking

YOUR NAME IS JEZAKK IMETAT.

YOU FEEL LOST.

One moment, everything was peaceful. Then, before you could properly react, there was purple all over you, and your ears were ringing with screams. What little comfort you had found in the troupe isn't real any more, and it never was. Everything has descended into silence. There was always a threat looming over you, and you knew that the RINGMASTER was up to no good, but NOBODY EVER FUCKING LISTENED TO YOU. Now, you seem to have payed the price. You walk blindly down the corridors that you were once familiar with, unwilling to open your eyes for fear of what may greet you if you do. Your feet track more purple across the floors, but it hardly matters enough. All that's on your mind is who matters, and you don't want to contend to anything else yet. There's just not enough TIME.

SOMETHING IS CHANGING. There's a sensation burning across your eyelids that you haven't felt in a long, long time. Even though the rooms are frigid cold, darkness seeping through your home that was once so brightly lit, you feel hot flushes of shame enveloping your cheeks and invading your steadily crumbling thoughts as you stagger forwards still. There are two people you want to see, and if they're safe, it might give you some kind of peace of mind. But the further you go, your feet shuffling numbly, you begin to doubt your hopes more and more. This is the same soulless place you knew when you were semi-conscious, a puppet for your MATESPRIT, and his eyes. He was only trying to protect himself from these horrors, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You realised that far too late.

But you know that nothing will work out the way you want it to. Your limbs feel like they're filled with lead, your thinkpan as fuzzy as if you were drunk on the pies you always had the strength to decline. But now you're NOT SO SURE YOU WOULD, surveying the scene with drooping eyelids that you force yourself to open once and for all. There are more bodies than you ever knew existed in the troupe in the first place, piled haphazardly with smears of gore up the walls. A low chuckle rumbles out from you, tears staining your cheeks as the sight throws you into hysterics. It's a coping mechanism, or so YOUR DEAREST OTHAMO would say. He never failed to make you laugh. You thought you needed that relief, but all it does is make your throat burn. You have no idea how long it's been since you had anything to drink.

Opening your eyes just enough to detect whether there are bottles around, you detect something filled with purple and walk towards it, grasping it in shaking claws and somehow unscrewing the lid. You knock it back in a few swallows without processing what the liquid even is, not particularly caring because it does its job of warding away THE ACIDIC TASTE COATING YOUR TONGUE. You think the label reads 'FAYGO', but your attention is already elsewhere and so is your gaze. You close your eyes, finding welcome relief in the darkness that seemed to scared you so easily before. Something in you tells you to STOP BEFORE IT GETS WORSE, but you're not one to follow directions like that. Besides, you feel the Faygo starting to kick in already.

Still you walk, tracing a path you've always known. Reaching your practice room, you push open the door, trembling fingers sliding away from the frame as your chest heaves with laboured breath. You continue your manic mixture of laughter and stuttering breathing almost soundlessly, but with the tears and the sharklike grin still plastered to your face. Upon seeing your mirror, you strike out at it, the resulting shattering noise a jarring and unwelcome contrast to your own. Your face paint was smeared, and you realised that YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE ANY MORE. What are you? The tears mingle with those once painted carefully across your cheeks, muddying the white and darker grey with a pale and pathetic purple hue.

Disregarding the glass shards embedded in your knuckles as if they're nothing more than your imagination, you retreat, returning to the room you're perhaps more familiar with than your own. You can see the strings that you had once helped soak, imbuing them with different oils so that they'd smell nice and Othamo wouldn't get confused as to what he was doing during his shows. Some of them are still in their jars, but you doubt anything will mask the stench of the rot that surrounds you. Who's fault is it, you wonder. Who would do such a thing, to leave your ONLY FRIEND to darkness? Your laughter shifts slowly into a trembling, monotonous hum, and you fumble about for the LIGHT SWITCH that seems to have been torn from its socket. How convenient.

You sense movement, a hulking figure behind you, and for a moment you freeze in fear. But it's your guardian, which makes you bare your teeth in a smile's attempt and lurch towards him unsteadily. Finally. Someone who cared. You nearly collapse when you see him, falling as your legs give out. Crawling towards him as if there's no pain stopping you, you stain his fur with blood and tears, beginning to violently sob into his matted and uneven fur. You feel so very pathetic, like you are and always were, but more so now than ever. You feel yourself BREAKING DOWN, becoming the scared little boy you were when you entered the Big Top for the first time all over again. There's another figure with him, but you can't quite gather enough light in your eyes in order to discern who it is. MAYBE THAT'S FOR THE BETTER. They seem to be leaning on the wall, as if they're not strong enough to support themselves alone.

THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG ABOUT YOUR DAD, even though you can't quite decipher what that is. Rolling him over gently, just enough to expose the side of his fur where the wound was created sweeps ago, you grit your teeth and prepare yourself. This is what you normally do; check if he's moved too much in his sleep, see if the wound's all fully scarred, despite the fact it never is. But nothing can quite prepare you for the smell, and the purple so deep it almost stains black upon the harp seal's snow white fur. You don't need to know what happened. All you know is that YOUR FATHER IS DEAD, and the figure leaning on the wall has crumpled to the floor as if they were never quite alive in the first place. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but you advance towards the body after stumbling upright.

You don't get all that far, by virtue of the fact that your head is spinning like a carousel and you vomit on the floor, wiping your mouth harshly as the world heaves around you and sparks pop in front of your eyes, nearly causing you to fall over anew. You continue on after a minute or two, wishing you had access to more Faygo so EVERYTHING WOULD BE NUMB AGAIN. The body is right in front of you, and yet you don't look down at it yet. There's something tangled around your leg, so you pick it up. it's the top of a MARIONETTE'S BOARD, with a cross of wood and not-yet-scented string dangling down, snapped at uneven lengths. Your stomach flips. You don't even have to see the face to know who it is, and grimace at the way his wrists, ankles and neck are broken and twisted as if they were articulated puppet joints. You begin to shake, uncontrollable and vicious tremors that truly do force you to the ground.

You wail in anguish, a sound more animalistic and sorrowful than any troll language could articulate. Pounding your fists against the carpets, your vision fades in and out of blackness, and you scream and cry until your throat feels like it's been scraped by a million layers of sandpaper. Only then do you go silent, when you've ripped up the carpet to reveal the wooden boards. Only then do you begin pressing your hands onto to make deep, liquified prints in glaring hues of purple, unclearly yours or someone else's. Only then do you realise the depths of your loneliness. Only then do you truly realise what a monster you are.

Only then do you realise that it was you all along.

#help I'm devoted to this clown #homestuck #fantroll #luminescent lyricist writes #🏠 stuck at home 🏠#❤️ a world of our own ❤️

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archived-brokentoys · 3 years

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** repost, don’t reblog !!

NAME: edward nashton nigma. NICKNAME: the riddler, rids, eddie, ed, rat. AGE: 30. SPECIES: human.

personal.

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil RELIGIOUS BELIEF: questioning. SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: outsmart batman & prove his brilliance / rid gotham of its corruption LANGUAGES KNOWN: english & french, but knows a lot of words from various languages.

physical.

BUILD: scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average HEIGHT: 6′1″ WEIGHT: 125 lbs SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: has various scars from his fights with batman & other people he’s angered. RESTRICTIONS: cannot fight / physically weak / addiction / compulsions & obsessions / arrogance.

favourites.

FOOD: banana pudding & cheesecakes. DRINK: strawberry soda, cotton candy faygo ( but enjoys most faygo flavors in general. ) PIZZA TOPPING: pineapple....... please don’t ask him why. COLOUR: green. but also purple. MUSIC GENRE: vintage music & hip hop. BOOK GENRE: vintage books, but he enjoys thrillers and mystery the most. MOVIE GENRE: mystery, thrillers, and horrors. SEASON: summer or autumn. CURSE WORD: doesn’t have one, but uses ‘damn’ a lot.

fun stuff.

BOTTOM OR TOP: switch, mainly depends on who he’s sleeping with & what mood he’s in. SINGS IN THE SHOWER: absolutely. LIKES BAD PUNS: ABSOLUTELY x2.

TAGGED BY: i stealen this because I’m a dirty thief >:)

TAGGING: @liminalstctic / @fclsusrex / @schizophrenichangedman / @ask-the-arkham-librarian / @arkhamimposter / @pluckyingenue & anyone else can feel free to steal this!!!

#RIDDLED: ABOUT #long post //

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testifytime · 4 years

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do everything for me, you already know about me BUT: im described as "chaotic faggot" by my friends, i have no filter, I can switch from being outgoing to really nervous in a second, i like drawing, dice, and divinitation. i hoard candles and incense, and i like paintball.

- A Pokemon team/type theme (+ fun facts abt your team!)

Your team is full of Poison types! They’re used the most often for rascly lil fucker trainers, so, it fits :3c

Your signature Pokemon is Toxtricity, though your team also consists of Whirlipede, Haunter, Gloom, Toxicroak, and Crobat!

Fun facts!

Your Toxtricity was sent to you by your juggabro. In his words, it’s a “cool Pokemon to fit your aesthetic but keep you on track”. It can be pretty overprotective, but sometimes it turns a blind eye to the more chaotic things you do.

Your Whirlipede is just an entire baby. Even though it’s got toxic spikes on its shell that COULD kill you, it’s pretty much a lapbug. You just have to try and remind it to be careful before it goes in for snuggles.

Your Haunter and Gloom actually kind of hate each other! Having them out at the same time often ends up with you either getting paralysed or put to sleep. They’re super sweet when they’re apart, though, and both LOVE scritches.

Toxicroak used to be really loveydovey when it was a Croagunk, but now it acts like it’s too cool for school. It’s really not. If you pay more attention to another Pokemon it WILL jab you in the stomach. And then it’ll pretend like it totally wasn’t even because it was jealous.

Your Crobat is the sweetest of the bunch!! It likes to collect (read: steal) things for you that it thinks you’ll like, and is almost always attached to your back out of its Pokeball. Sometimes without you wanting it to be. It can be a bit of a pain, sometimes.

- Bloodcaste/lusus/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck troll (+lore)

You’re a purpleblood with a seaserpent lusus! Your chumhandle is acquiredTalisman.

You live with your lusus in a hive that boarders where the jungle forest ends and the beach begins. It’s a pretty popular spot for violetbloods, admittedly, but it’s also the only place your giantass Seaserpentdad can actually fit; the mouth of the river is deep and leads directly out into the ocean, where he spends most of his time. The hive itself is pretty cluttered - because man, you suck at keeping shit tidy - and filled to the brim with your dice collections, your religious paraphenalia, and all the random junk you’ve stolen (of which there is a lot).

You have a few interests, of which the main is your religion. You’re a diviner of sorts, oddly sought out by your fellow purplebloods to tell them what their purpose is in life as stated by the Great Mirthful Messiahs. You’re not entirely sure that they really do speak through you, but your readings are scary-accurate, and not only does it mean that you’ve made more friends, but you’ve made a fuck tonne of money, too. You’re more fond of practicing with your friends, or on your own, sneaking what you can beneath your lusus’ snout; so far, he hasn’t seemed to question the candle collection you have, or the alter with the Faygo bottlecaps, or the cards, or pendulum made from a grubbone you got from one of your customers. Actually, he hasn’t noticed much of anything? You’re hesitant to go TOO far, but you do like pushing at what you can get away with every now and then.

On top of that, you love to draw - mostly as a form of worship, but also just for fun with your juggabros. You send drawings back and forth, even though you’ve never been able to meet them, and it’s pretty fun! You hope one day that you can get them to your favourite hangout spot to cause a little chaos - which usually means trashing the violetbloods’ rich boy shit and stealing things you know they’re too proud to tattle about. You don’t... always remember doing those things? But you definitely remember the amount of violetbloods that give you nasty glares whenever you walk past. It’s okay, though. You have a rifle and you’re not afraid to use it.

Beyond that, though, you’re... kind of lonely. There’s nobody that you really consider a friend around you, and when your friends do visit you, it’s only every few months. Having all those customers and the nasty violetbloods hanging around is great, sure, but... sometimes you wish you could move your hive closer inland to be near your juggabros. You could, you guess. But then where would your lusus go?

Your lusus is kind of ridiculously huge. You really couldn’t miss him even on the horizon, his giant form standing stark against the two moons. Not that he spends a whole lot of time above the water, though. He pretty much only comes back to get fed and throw a fit if he sees any of your purpleblood customers hanging around.

- Symbol/guardian/chumhandle as if you were a Homestuck kid (+lore)

Your symbol is a and your guardian is your big bro! Your chumhandle is augmentedTemptation.

You and your older bro kick it in a sweet lil bottom-floor apartment. It’s kinda dingy, kinda shitty, but it’s the best he can afford and you’re not really one to complain when you know how hard he works just to keep the leaky roof over your head. It’s got everything you want out of a home, anyway; separate bedrooms, tiny bathroom, sweet hangout pad that doubles as a kitchen (which you’ve got a curtain draped over so that it looks like they’re two rooms) - it’s pretty neat. It’s also got a fire escape out the back and easy access to the lobby doors that’re easy to pick, so you figure it’s kinda home.

You absolutely fucking love to play paintball. You’ve got a painball gun that you maybe stole from the store once, and a couple pellets you’ve been buying for cheap online whenever you have the money. You don’t... actually have anyone to play with, but hey, cop cars make a great target. It feeds into your general need for chaos, which isn’t limited to - but has involved - petty theft, breaking into cars, and spray painting defametory phrases against racists and homophobes on billboards. You’ve never actually been caught. Okay, you got caught once, but you’re really good at crying. You’re pretty sure your bro doesn’t know about that.

You like to practice witchy shit in your spare time. You’ve got altars set up for your patrons, and a candle collection that you really don’t know that you’re ever gonna burn through. Plus, incense! Your bro kind of hates the smell, but you just crack open a window and it’s like he doesn’t even know. You’ve also got a pretty fair collection of crystals, but that’s more because people just keep giving them to you? It’s wild what they’ve thought were just normal rocks, and you’re pretty sure some of your collection could sell for a pretty buck, but they make way better offerings.

Of course, you also love to talk to your friends online. You have a bunch! You’re pretty easy to get on with, you think, so you end up just kinda collecting people into one giant group of friends that never stops growing. You share art, play games, chat, make them worried sick when you do dumb shit - it’s great.

Sometimes at dusk you like to go up to the roof of the apartment block you and your bro live in and stand right on the edge. It’s so high up you can see around for miles, and everything below you looks like a speck of dust beneath your feet. The stars twinkle above you in the darkening sky, just barely visible, and you think, every now and then, that you are very, very small.

- A FNAF animatronic design and name

You’re a broken down animatronic, probably one of the earliest of your kind. Maybe even a prototype? Nobody really remembers anymore. You’ve just kind of always been there, at the back of the store, half a body and more coherent than people expect you to be, but never fully quite there. Your head lulls back and forth, your arms moving sluggishly, and in order to get around, you drag yourself across the floor.

You can speak, but not by much. It’s glitchy and switched out more often than not, absolutely terrifying to hear in the dark - but you’re a pretty sweet soul, all things considered. The few who’ve been brave enough to slip back behind the old, abandoned doors, past the cobwebs and through the narrow halls, who haven’t run at the first sight of you, tell tales of a sweet carcass who seemed more scared of being found than anything else.

There are a couple kids who routinely come back to visit you. They like to give you things they’ve found outside the pizzaria, mostly coins and old dice and things that smell sweet to try and cover up how musty you are.

You’ve never hurt a soul the entire time you’ve been there, but your reputation has been built on the whispers of kids who’ve seen the rotting maw of your muzzle, the glint of your endoskeleton and the shine of your eyes in the dark. They call you Thing - as if giving you a name will make you come to life.

The ones that know you better call you Peppi.

- A BNHA Quirk and hero title

Your Quirk is Corroding Touch. Despite its name, and how terrifying it sounds, your quirk is pretty simple! Anything you touch wastes away, and you can control how far along its own personal timeline it decays through. For instance, you could touch a flower and have it start wilting, and stop there on its timeline - or you could have it waste away to a point that it decays completely and turns to mush.

The drawback here is that what you’re doing is essentially speeding up a natural process. Things that don’t waste away without outside forces - such as rocks through erosion - won’t be affected by your quirk. Things that live very long lives before decaying - such as turtles - will take up a lot more of your time to speed them through their natural timeline. Finally, you can’t reverse what you’ve done. Once you’ve sped it through its natural timeline, there’s no going back; another quirk will have to undo the effects.

Of course, it also means that if you plant an oak seed, instead of waiting hundreds of years for it to grow into an oak tree, you can just use your quirk to speed up the process. So it’s a good-bad thing!

Your hero title is the Wasteful Hero: Corrosion. You’re a sort of last-resort hero, and you don’t like being in the limelight. Your quirk is dangerous if not handled correctly, so you work on a team with another hero who has a counter-effective quirk to yours (essentially Hyper Growth!). A lot of civillians are scared of you, but that’s okay. You know that what you do is important, and that your ranking doesn’t matter so long as you’re saving lives.

You are a little bitter, though, that your partner is several ranks ahead of you.

#turnfagshithead #long post//#heartless prince rambles

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cleoselene · 4 years

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girilla-warfare reblogged your post and added:

I wish I could be y’all roommate lol

lmao we have a pretty good time considering we’re all broke af and in mega pain and have major depression and two of us are documented game members by the FBI (THEY HAVE JUGGALO TATTOOS!!)

on Halloween they’re gonna jump me into the gang I think the process involves spraying me with Faygo (or chugging a Faygo? I think we switched it to that because spraying gets sticky and who wants to clean that up?), smoking a blunt, painting my face like a clown, smoking another blunt, and listening to ICP

then I’ll be in a gang too because my lipedema makes a tattoo too painful and my gang understands special needs whoop whoop

#girilla-warfare

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disinvited-guest · 4 years

Text

3/9/2020 Detroit

The venue staff were much better for this show, primarily because they were able to chill out just a little. I’m not sure if they had gotten a sense of how harmless tmbg fans were from the night before, or if Flans, who had seemed a bit peeved at how uptight they were, gave someone an earful. Either way, they still were a bit strict about some things, but much more relaxed than they had been.

As with the previous night, I was able to hear all of the soundcheck while waiting in line in the bar. They were practicing a bunch of songs I hadn’t yet heard on the tour, all of which they did play during the show. I heard Authenticity Trip, Memo to Human Resources, Number 3, and Man It’s So Loud In Here, and I just got more excited for each and every one. The soundcheck changed to just individuals trying different things out for a while, and then that stopped and they started soundchecking With the Dark.

The rest of the wait was relatively uneventful, and soon we were let inside. To change things up, I found a spot squarely in front of the drum riser. I think the security fence was set slightly closer to the stage than it had been the day before, but the added distance actually worked to my advantage today, as I could see more of the other side of the stage. I always forget how much I enjoy shows from this side of the stage until I actually get there. It’s different from over on the larger side of the stage, but that just makes it another type of wonderful.

Once again, the first set was the same Flood set from the last several nights, so the recap of the first set will be slightly shortened. I have a few general notes before I begin. Fresh was wearing neon doce socks, and once again had his hair in pigtails. This show was the first since Milwaukee where Dan was able to get through the first set without switching to his backup guitar. Marty was absolutely on fire the whole set. There were also a series of cold breezes coming from multiple directions towards the end of the set.

Coming onstage, Linnell was doing his wavy-armed walk to get up to his keyboard. During The Might Be Giants, Flans was apparently having a problem with his guitar, and desperately trying to get the crew’s attention while singing. Eventually, towards the end of the song, he started singing “John Carter look at me” in place of the actual lyrics (the repeated “they might be giants” at the song’s conclusion). It must have worked, because Flans stopped wildly gesturing offstage after that.

After We Want a Rock, Linnell took the task of welcoming us to the show, before Flans made it up to the mic to tell everyone that it was an exciting day for him, “If you came to the show last night, you’ll notice that I just got a haircut.” He called it one of the few perks of staying in the same city for two nights before launching into a detailed account of the event.

Apparently, his barber asked him what he was doing in town, “and, reluctantly, I told her the truth.” He then told us that usually he lies, and that when a cab driver sees his guitar case and asks if he’s in a band he tells them “Yes, I’m in Fountains of Wayne.”

He continued, saying that he has a “whole fanfiction thing going on” to explain why he doesn’t show up in photographs.

“When it turns out the cabbie is a Fountains of Wayne fan who’s like ‘I didn't see you on the album cover’” Linnell interjected.

“Yeah,” Flans agreed. “I’m just covering my tracks for the inevitable Google Search after.”

Getting back to his haircut story, Flans said “I told this woman I was in a band. She did not ask me the name of the band but she did tell me the entire plot of the movie Queen.”

This got a huge laugh from the crowd, but Flans wasn’t done yet telling us his story. The plot of the movie “lasted just about the entire haircut length. Which was great. I’ve gotta see that movie.”

He then moved to to explain the setup of the show, telling us they had put two songs from Flood in the second set “so that the friends that you dragged here will stick around.”

When Flans asked Linnell about his day, Linnell replied promptly “I’ve just been goofing off.” He then told us that every other time they come to Detroit, he checks up on the city, and this time he found a lot more “boutique-y” stores downtown “and we’ve been informed that that is both good and horrible.” He concluded that he was “excited and disgusted” to see how Detroit comes along.

Flans told us that they were “standing in judgement” from 450 miles away. Linnell agreed, but said the crowd was welcome to judge New York as well.“

But only from 450 miles,” Flans told him. “Those are the rules.”

Introducing the next song, Linnell told us it was off the Flood album, and that it was probably the second shortest song on the album.

“No spoilers, John!” Flans interrupted.

“No?” Linnell continued “And here’s another spoiler: it contains unlicensed samples. OOOH!”

“Now I beg you to shut up!”

“You guys ready for this?” Linnell asked, and they launched into Minimum Wage.

I think it was during Particle Man that Danny, backing up towards the drum riser while playing, bumped into it and sat down with a bit of a thump. He stayed sitting there for a few measures before he got up again.

After Hearing Aid, Flans came up to the mic and, without preamble, told us “So, then Queen fired their manager, and they had the opportunity to do Live Aid. Which changed everything for them. Because they rehearsed.”

Moving on to introducing the next song, Flans repeated his preamble from the day before about playing songs backwards, then told us they were embarking into uncharted territory “where the entertainment value is very low,” and that he hoped that our “thresholds of pleasure are set very finely tonight.”

He explained that they weren’t just flipping the chart, but playing what the sound recording backwards would sound like. “So if one was to reverse the live performance in front of you right now-if you could do that-it would reproduce the actual song, incredibly effectively. If you could do that. But you can’t, so we’re just gonna tell you that.”

He concluded “We’re not sure why we’re doing this, but we practiced it, and we’re committed to it, so we’re going to play it.”

He then introduced the members of the band individually. We were asked to scream for Marty, and then for Danny, who Flans pointed out especially to the ladies. He introduced Dan as “on the electric guitar, with his eyes glued to the chart he made himself.” While we cheered for Dan, Danny lifted his bass and pointed the neck of it at Dan as Flans continued “perhaps the finest electric guitarist in They Might Be Giants.”

“This song is called… Well it doesn’t really have a title,” Flans told us, and they started Stilloob. Maybe it was that they were getting more confident with it, but I do believe that this was their best performance yet!

Afterwards, Linnell responded to the crowd’s applause by saying thoughtfully “We should get you guys applaud before we play it, if we’re doing this correctly.”

“That was really the best applause that song has gotten thus far,” Flans decided. “You are really on the vanguard.” He then predicted that in the future, when all songs are backwards, Stilloob will be seen as the ‘Rock Around The Clock’ of the movement. He then imitated a person form the future explaining their musical tastes “I’m not into songs, man. I’m into songs that are played in reverse. I like digital, I like CD’s. I like the sound of CD’s in reverse. It’s got digital harshness, that’s what I like.”

Someone in the crowd shouted something, and Flans answered back that “I want to hear every word you’re saying, but part of me is saying we should resist that.”

Linnell introduced the next song as being the fastest sung in their entire repertoire (Letterbox), and Flans agreed, saying that they had officially entered the “stunt part of the program: stunt songs.”

After Lucky Ball and Chain, Flans admitted he was curious how many people had been to the show the night before. Finding one person who had been he said directly to them “I just want to tell you that the second set is almost completely different. But this part is music under glass. We’re gonna tell the Queen jokes…”

“As you know,” Linnell continued when Flans trailed off, “we’re doing the exact same raps, including what I’m saying right now. As we said last night.”

“I’m getting my hair cut every day,” Flans agreed.

Apparently this reminded Flans of their conversation from the start of the set, because he asked Linnell if he really hadn’t gone to a museum or something that day.

Linnell responded that he really had just goofed off but “A mystical thing happened to me.” He then explained that he had a can of Faygo “my very first can of Faygo.” This got laughs and cheers from the crowd, and Linnell responded “I know. I can feel the clown makeup just starting to grow on my face.”

He tried to continue with his story, but Flans had gone upstage and grabbed a can of Faygo that had been sitting there, which he was now holding up, causing the crowd to start cheering once again. He started to say something about it, but Linnell interrupted him “Let me finish the story, before you start in with your jokes.”

“It’s taking too long, John,” Flans argued, “It’s taking too long.”

Linnell replied “Alright. Let’s just play the next song, forget it. Nevermind. It wasn’t that interesting anyway.” The crowd reacted instantly, demanding the rest of the story, so Linnell finally got his chance to continue. He had set the can of Faygo on a table and fallen asleep, then “I was awoken by the sound of it falling to the floor, but it was still upright. And I thought, ‘I don't’ know what just happened, but there’s something special about this beverage.’”

“Do you think it was the ghost of Insane Clown Posse?” Flans asked, finally free to ‘start in with his jokes’, “Reaching out from before the grave?”

Linnell responded that, from what he knew, ICP wasn’t reluctant to spill Faygo so that didn’t seem likely. Someone in the audience asked him what flavor it was, and he responded that it was Root Beer.

This got some cheers and a lot of shouted responses from the crowd. Flans, trying to get things back on track, seemed slightly annoyed by the shouts, and responded sarcastically “please, talk amongst yourselves for a little while.”

They played Hot Cha, then brought the topic right back to Faygo, with Linnell announcing “Hot Cha, ladies and gentlemen, sponsored by Faygo Root Beer.”

“I always thought that Fayo was like a cocktail put together by the Insane Clown Posse,” Flans admitted, once again holding his can of the stuff. “Then when I saw this I was like ‘Man, they are ripping them off!’ Lawsuit!”

He put the can down and then continued “But I guess it’s just… they really like soda.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say in Detroit. A few people in the crowd cried out “Pop!” “It’s pop!” Other members of the crowd took up the cry, until the room buzzed with it.

Nobody on the stage had any clue what was going on, but realized the crowd was upset. Flans tried to smooth things over, obviously confused “Understand...understand…”

“We are on the outside of this discussion,” Linnell chimed in, coming to his aid. “You guys know what it is…”

Flans, inspired, thought that the anger might be some sort of defense of ICP. “I just want to make it clear,” he said, in a misdirected attempt to smooth things over, “that we are down with the clown.”

This got a laugh from the crowd, and a visibly relieved Flans continued “After that whole FBI thing, I was nervous they didn’t have enough representation.”

That might have been the end of the Beverage Wars, but a few determined people in the crowd started up the “Pop!” cry again, with a few people even beginning to chant it.

Flans, interrupted once again, looked out over the crowd and determined “It seems like fights are breaking out in the audience now, John.”

This stirred up the crowd even more. Flans tried again to calm the crowd while still not sure what they were angry about “Guys, guys, guys…”

He was interrupted by Linnell, who had finally grasped what was going on, “Okay, okay, I get it!” He explained to Flans “They say pop, we say soda. It’s a different language.” As soon as Linnell said the word ‘pop’ emphasizing the final ‘p’ as if it was completely foreign to him, a huge cheer rose from the crowd.

Flans immediately turned this new information into a joking lecture on the cultural differences “We’re from New York City, that means we’re gonna get on stage late. That’s the way it works! People are different, everybody’s got their own thing.” This was all said in an overly-patient voice. “We would change, if we knew how to.”

Linnell, who seemed genuinely amused, chimed in with his thickest Boston accent “But you’ll be cryin’ when we’re havin’ our victory party later on.”

This got laughs from the crowd and Flans cracked a smile, replying in the same voice “At Boston Garden!”

“That’s right!”

“When I put my thumb in my eye.”

Linnell responded with a stadium-organ style scale from his keyboard. There was a beat and both looked a shade embarrassed. Eventually Linnell, recovering, said “Alright, here we go. Another song,” and started them into Women and Men. Linnell switched the words shipwreck and beachhead, singing them in the other’s place.

After Someone Keeps Moving My Chair, Flans stepped up with the picture disk in hand and asked Saul for a “big white spotlight you can throw on me.” He told us he had forgotten to do this yesterday, but was reminded by their new t-shirt person and he promised us that if we bought the picture disk “you could make your money back on ebay right away.”

“We have been asked on social media if it’s true that picture disks don’t sound as good as regular vinyl records,” Flans continued. “And my first thought to write back is like ‘well what do you want it to sound like?’” He admitted that picture disks didn’t sound quite as good but “they have PICTURES on them, which is I think the larger point.” He then introduced the zoetrope on the back, saying they had sweetened the pot with it and promised us “a beautiful visual effect that will remind you of psychedelic drugs.” He concluded by promising that this was “the best sounding zoetrope you will ever see.”

After Whistling In the Dark, Linnell stopped them from moving on because “I just have something to say about that last song.” He told us all that they do a lot of Flood songs slightly different from how they are on the record, and “I was reminded on this song that we completely changed where the big smash sound happens, ‘cause I saw someone in the audience doing it where it happens on the RECORD, and I was like ‘Oh NO! Eugh, no!’”

He then assured us that the live version was the correct one “We did it wrong on the record, and now we’re doing it the right way.”

Flans chimed in with his own observations on the live version of the song, saying that playing familiar songs “at less 4-cup-of-coffee-in-the-studio tempos” gives him “the distinct impression that people just think we’re tired. But there’s no explaining it.” He then did his best impression of the part of the song in question “But it goes ‘Whistling in the dark BOMP, whistling in the dark-”

“It should do that, yeah,” Linnell interrupted.

“It’s a more musical way of doing it, that’s our best explanation” Flans continued.

This reminded Flans of the difference between the album and live versions of another Flood song. Without telling us the title of the song, he explained that they had left out a verse when recording and “didn’t have enough juice, or whatever the term is, to tell the producer people, like ‘we have to redo it.’” Explaining that he sang the missing verse in the live version of the song, he told us that during shows “People will be singing along and then when it gets to that verse, they just stop. ‘Cause nobody knows those words. But we will, uhh-”

Flans had been distracted by a guy in the crowd shouting out the song’s title (Road Movie To Berlin), and responded “No spoilers, man! No spoilers!” The end of this scolding was muffled as Flans lost the battle to keep from cracking up, then moved away from his mic stand for a moment.

Linnell gave him time to recover by promising us “Just bear in mind , we’re older and smarter now than we were then, so this is the right version.”

“You came to the right show, people,” Flans agreed. “We know it’s disorienting when the bass drum is on the opposite beat.”

After Birdhouse, Flans turned Linnell’s accordion mic around to face the crowd. “I just realized the song I was talking about is coming up next,” he told us all. “So I’ve turned the microphone around to you so we can slightly amplify the parts you can sing along to, to which we encourage! And then don’t be afraid of the parts you don’t know. It’s just a little bit different.”

People really took the invitation to sing along to heart, which made it all the more hilarious when, of course, they petered out during the King of Liars verse.

Nothing too noteworthy happened between sets, although I finally was able to successfully pinpoint the end of the new cue song. They used the Godzilla Intro once again, with Linnell speaking over the end of it in his best creepy-TV-narrator voice “Hello...And welcome back.”

Flans introduced Marty on the electronic drums “nothing says unplugged better,” and then made the claim that “In the world of drummers, Marty is Faygo.”

Flans was about to start the first song of the set, when he stopped and decided it needed a better introduction. At this point, I was expecting the Quiet Storm to be identical to the others so far on the tour, so I was completely shocked with Flans explained “This song is the full-length version of a song that a fragment of it was on the album The Else, and we’re gonna perform the entire song called With the Dark.”

And then they performed it. Even though I’d heard strains of them soundchecking it earlier, I hadn’t known it would be this version, or that it would be so beautiful to witness firsthand.

Moving back to more familiar ground, they played 2082 and then Flans introduced Wicked Little Critta, “Ladies and Gentlemen we are now gonna move to the place where John and I first met. It’s a song about New England and it features the Keyboard Stylings of Mr. John Linnell.”

Finishing out the Quiet Storm, they left the stage to a projection of the Gudetama’s Busy Days video, which was a welcome change from Underwater Woman, which they’d used at the last three shows I’d attended. The guys were all onstage before the video ended and Dan, who was apparently raring to go, started Damn Good Times the moment after the last note of the video had finished. Flans didn’t make us sway along to Dan’s solo this time, but he did introduce him as the “King of Pop” beforehand, and demand a “sea of hands” midway through.

This began a truly amazing set. The guys were all at the top of their game, and clearly enjoying themselves as well. They also played a lot of songs I hadn’t gotten to hear yet on this tour, starting right after Damn Good TImes as they went straight into Man It’s So Loud In Here.

Afterwards, Flans started to introduce the next song, claiming that it was on a compilation album of things they’d done during their 2015 Dial-A-Song year. Pausing, he decided “No, it was before that.... It was on an album…that we made...What?” This last bit was directed at Danny, who had come up next to him. Danny said something urgently into his ear, likely the song listed next on the setlist, and Flans responded with a quiet “Oh..” As Danny returned to his spot, Flans grabbed the mic with both hands and whispered into it “Fuuuucck.” Raising his voice out of the whisper, he continued “I don’t even know what song we’re doing.”

Recovering his stage presence and pivoting topics, Flans said, as if he was picking up a story he’d just stopped telling a moment ago, “So, at a certain point Queen realized that if they wrote songs they could do WITH the audience, that it would be like a whole new way of getting everybody involved. And that’s why this song was written.”

This was clearly meant as a graceful exit into the next song, but Linnell had more to say on the topic. “Except… I think he wasn’t wearing the fake teeth in the real story, right? I’m pretty sure.”

“That mustache didn’t look real,” Flans told him.

“I saw the movie, actually,” Linnell admitted.

“Ohh,” Flans was a bit disappointed. “How was the mustache?”

“I-You know- That guy’s a good actor,” Linnell replied, evading the question.

“And he’s a REALLY good singer,” Flans added.

Missing the sarcasm in Flans’ voice, Linnell said “He’s a good singer. You’re not joking around.”

“I actually was joking around,” Flans told him.

“No-no, he’s good.”

“It’s Freddie Mercury,” Flans said flatly.

“But I think the guy can sing,” Linnell insisted. “The robot… The robot guy.” This drew laughs from the crowd, which Linnell stoked by declaring “The robot guy!” once again.

“My acting friends thought that the Oscar should go to Freddie Mercury,” Flans said, as the crowd quieted.

“Oh really?” Linnell asked, “ To the….the robot guy, or to the real Freddie Mercury…”

“No, no, ‘cause he’s lip-synching along to the thing,” Flans clarified.

Linnell answered with a non-committal ‘oh’ and then, after an awkward moment of quiet, brought up that “I hate movies where you’re instructed to like something because members of the audience in the movie are going ‘This is good.’” He completed his impression with a thumbs up and a nodding head. “It drives me crazy. I don’t need a proxy on the screen, I can decide for myself if something is good or not.”

This got a cheer and applause from one solitary member of the crowd. Linnell pointed him out and thanked him for applauding, then Flans declared “This show is dedicated to that guy applauding,” they then finally got around to introducing the next song: Wearing a Raincoat.

From there they played Authenticity Trip, which is always an amazing song to watch live, with Flans roaming around the stage to sing. Introducing Curt as he came on the stage for the next song, Flans told us all “During the break, Curt informed us that in Oklahoma, where he grew up, they refer to all soda-pop...all cola... they refer to everything as Coke. So you just say, like ‘You want a coke? What kind? Orange?’ That’s how it works there.”

This got a reaction from the crowd, who grumbled at the term coke, and even started yelling out a few states where they used the word that way. Flans concluded “There are regional differences everywhere ladies and gentlemen. We’re just ambassadors of disinformation.”

“Which is a way of saying, you were hurting our feelings when you were yelling at us before,” Linnell explained, amused.

“When we saw there was a clamor, we just assumed it was Insane Clown Posse fans,” Flans confessed, “Your mind jumps to that in rock music. We didn’t realise it was the whole pop versus soda thing.” He then started growling deep in his throat in what I can only assume was an imitation of what the upset crowd had sounded like to them.

After watching Flans do that a few times, Linnell moved on with another story about crowds and pronunciations. “I can’t remember if I’ve told you this,” he said, looking over at Flans briefly before addressing the crowd “but I had a solo act about twenty years ago and I had a song. The name of the song was ‘Oregon is Bad’ and I played it in Oregon and people were not offended by the title of the song. They were really offended that I mispronounced the name of their state. That was the- that’s why I had to leave in a hurry. So, you know, I get it!”

“Somebody threw a bottle of Faygo through your windshield,” Flans added.

“Yeah, yeah,” Linnell agreed with a laugh. “So here’s another song not off of Flood.”

This led into Turn Around, and from there straight into Spy. I absolutely love the intro to this song, especially during shows like this, where Curt feels like showing off a bit. The ending was pretty standard for this tour. Linnell used his ‘Take It to the Limit’ sample opposite of and over the band, at normal and slowed down speeds. Flans did a bit of stuff with playing his guitar pressed up against his mic stand opposite the band, and worked in the crowd relatively successfully. At one point, Flans started to indicate the band, but changed his mind part way through and stopped his hand. Marty played anyway, which made some other members of the band play with him. Everyone soon realized what had happened and all looked over at Marty, who must’ve been a bit distressed, because Flans indicated it was his bad at the time and actually went over behind the drum riser after the song to apologize to Marty.

While Flans was dealing with that, the crowd became a bit restless and a few people started to shout out songs. Flans, coming back up to the front, let them go on for a bit. Once the crowd had gone quiet, he commented sarcastically “I was just gonna wait here until someone requested the next song.” This led to another flurry of requests, which Flans quashed with “Guys, guys, guys. We really are from New York City. People don’t- that whole request thing…”

People were still shouting out requests, but Flans ignored them. “It’s like, you know, feel good to a certain extent and then you draw the line. Here’s a song about that. It’s called Memo to Human Resources.” Confession time: I actually cried a little during this song.The song holds a very special place in my heart, and the live experience of it is overwhelmingly emotional for me.

They followed up with Don’t Let’s Start, which is always super fun to watch Flans and Danny spin around during. Dan and Curt returned to the stage and Flans, introducing them, tried on his announcer voice “CAESAR’S PALACE IS PROUD TO PRESENT…”

“That was the thing we did in Chicago, where the guy was like ‘I’M COMPLETELY SINCERE!’” Linnell explained, “I’VE NEVER HEARD OF ANY OF THESE ACTS!”

“I’M YOUR DAD’S ALCOHOLIC FRIEND!” Flans shot back “PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR HEY MUST BE GIANTS!”

This got a mix of laughter and applause from the crowd, which Flans responded to, still in the voice “KEEP IT GOING! FOR AIN’T THEY GUNS.”

Seizing on the moment of quiet after that pronouncement, Danny began the intro to Museum of Idiots. Four songs from Spine in one night! Afterwards Flans briefly introduced Dan, and everyone else stepped back to let Dan begin his intro to Istanbul. After a few fake endings, with some of Dan’s electric and a lot of Curt’s amazing everyone, Dan and Marty left the stage. Flans thanked everybody for coming out and introduced the final song of the night as “the song I thought ended the first set for the last four nights,” Theme From Flood.

(Note: I had no idea of this at the time of course, but Flans’ goodbye had a bit more emotion in it than is typical, and I’m guessing that at this point they were already rescheduling the rest of the April shows.)

Coming on for the first encore, the crowd was a bit rowdy, and Flans made the comment that “I once saw a guy defeated by a mic stand,” before they started the first song of the encore: Number Three! During this song, Marty just plays his kick drum. Danny, coming to the side of the drum riser, looked over at what Marty was doing and began copying his leg movement. It looked more than a bit silly, especially since Danny was grinning hugely up at Marty so he would notice.

“Mr. Dan Miller will be playing the keyboard on the next number,” Flans announced

“Mr. Dan Mil-Ler,” Linnell repeated, with a bit of a call back to the announcers voices they had tried out earlier.

“YOUR DAD’S ALCOHOLIC FRIEND IS ANNOUNCING MR. DAN MILLER ON THE KEYBOARDS,” Flans added, liking the idea.

“MISTER DANNY MY-LER,” Linnell claimed. Dropping the voice with a bit of a laugh, he started to ask “What was that thing where-”

Flans cut him off with a “DANNY MY-LER PLEASE MOVE YOUR CAR!”

Undeterred, Linnell continued telling us about their sometimes trombone player Dan Levine. Apparently, when he was playing in Frank Sinatra’s orchestra “he played that famous trombone solo in You Make me Feel So Young at which point Frank Sinatra said- this is the only time he’d ever called out our trombone player- ‘JOHNNY LEVINE!’” Watching the crowd react, he concluded quietly, “you know, it’s the thought that counts.”

They finished out the first encore with “a song that we do” Doctor Worm. I think Dan finally had the keyboard settings figured out! Just before the trumpet's final bit that ends the song, Linnell called out “Johnny Ramm!”

Coming back onstage for the second encore, they went right into She’s An Angel. I hadn’t realized before, but Marty puts a tambourine on top of his hi hat for this song. They went from Angel to The Guitar without any more of a pause than it took for Linnell to switch from accordion to keys. Flans sang “is it Johnny Levine/ I don’t think so” during the first verse, and introduced Johnny Linnell and Johnny Ramm for an especially interesting and extended Future of Sound. Everybody onstage was really going all out the whole song, including Dan doing what I can only describe as prancing while he played, and as they finished Flans thanked us all for coming one more time before leaving the stage.

The rest of the band quickly followed him as the house mix began playing. Except Danny that is, instead of leaving right away, he grabbed his setlist and walked over to me. He had to step out onto the amp and lean across the aisle for me to reach it. I took it with a big smile, which he returned before heading offstage.

#tmbg #recap

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