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lordkingbyron · 2 months ago

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Flight

Rezi became a pilot because she could. She stayed because nothing in human life could compare to being a dragon in flight.

That was on the good days. On the bad ones, there was Griswold.

Griswold had twenty-seven names, each one from a different century in which his power and his magic had made him some variant on The Terror of the Skies. Griswold had grown enormous on magic, and then the day came that magic failed.

Now Griswold Oa’Manth Emon-Raut, the Stone that Holds the Mountain, the One Who Flies Most Often, the Scourge of Trains, the Nightmare relied on pilots.

Relied on Rezi, specifically.

It wasn’t fair. The pilot who had previously flown Griswold had retired, and Rezi had been new in the ranks, and that was how it happened. Griswold should have gone to an older, more experienced pilot, but none of them wanted him and had explained that taking on more than you could possibly handle was how you became older and more experienced.

Unless the goddamn dragon fought you too hard and the mass of bitter lizard pride crashed you and your entire crew out of the sky. Dragons were meant to fly, but at some point their magic failed and the laws of physics took hold. Humans had designed machines that could bring them back to the sky, and with the funding of hoards, the technology was only getting better.

But while dozens of people kept pistons greased and braces bolstered, the entire endeavor hinged on the psychic pilot to suppress the dragon’s reflexes. In an ancient dragon, the frontal lobe could be ten yards from the brainstem. It took a signal milliseconds to travel that far, and in that time, an instinctive tail flick could take out an entire wing support.

And God forbid you survive the crash, because the Parliament of Dragons would hold you accountable, and you’d spend the next thirty years of your life answering for a moment of being just a little too tired, a little too frustrated.

So Rezi stayed on high-alert when she was tuned in to Griswold. Not that the Dragon Parliament had any great love of him, either, but if they wanted to live unnaturally long lives, it meant Griswold got to, too. Griswold was the size of a town square, and he hated pilots.

You again, came the low rumble inside Rezi’s head. His voice was like stones cascading down a mountainside.

The cockpit was a small, leather-clad chamber between the dragon’s brows. The sloping expanse of Griswold’s snout spread out before her like a sledding hill, pebbled with oily purple scales. At the base of the snout stood nostrils the size of carriages. Beyond that, the ridge of the upper lip. And beyond that — Rezi shook her head. It wasn’t a good idea to think too much about the teeth.

Greetings, Fair and Mighty Griswold, replied Rezi. Shall we take to the skies today?

A rush of air that could blow over a house erupted from Griswold’s snout.

What else would I come here for?

She readied herself for the plunge into Griswold’s brainstem. It hurt him just as much as it hurt her, and that was what was so awful about being entwined in a dragon’s brain. Everything you did to them, they did to you. She punctured through his mind, feeling his own rage and pain as she forced her way to the brainstem and settled over the physical reflexes.

“Ready for launch?” came a voice through her headset.

“Ready,” she replied. But she was never ready for Griswold.

On the back of the ancient dragon, pistons began firing. Braces gripped the torso, granting anchors to the wings. A dozen humans ran back and forth, tending to the light-weight mechanisms that had to keep a mountain in the air.

I was once so much more than this, came Griswold’s voice. Rezi tried to shut it out. His tail yearned to remove the fleas from his back, and it took most of her concentration to suppress the damn thing. She knew other pilots saw their connection in different ways. For her, she imagined herself walking inside the dragon’s skull, phasing in and out of the anatomy to get where she needed to go. It didn’t matter that it didn’t quite work like that. It was just how it made sense to her. Griswold’s brainstem was made of barbed thorns that fought back when she tried to grab them.

It wasn’t like this with other dragons. Other dragons welcomed pilots, granted them space in their mind, took the insertion peacefully and even tried to help.

As they launched into the air, a wall of regret and pain slammed into Rezi’s mind. The problem with being psychic was that you were psychic for all of it. Somehow, other pilots could shut out the emotions that screamed through their dragons’ minds, but flying Griswold was having your heart ripped out again and again, rage against the cruel, fickle ways of magic, painful joy as fresh gusts of air moved through your wings, bone-deep shame that the disgusting little monkey on your head had to control your body for you, fantasies of ruling the sky once more, laying waste to the flight academy, taking back your place as a thing to be feared and mighty

—Keeping the goddamn tail streamlined, keep it away from us, he’d kill us all—

The itch on the wings! The itch and the shame and the bastards that did this to you, you did not used to be broken, you used to be whole, and when you were whole not one of these bald monkeys would have dared to imagine they could rip their way into your mind, control your own body for you, you were king

—Keep his goddamn tail straight or you’re going to have to lock him out of here entirely—

Ha! As though you could! As though you had the right!

If you please, your graciousness, I must delve a little deeper.

Before he could give a response, Rezi plunged from the surface of the brainstem into the roots. She grabbed the nerves to the tail tight in her psychic fists and squeezed, killing off the signals that threatened to crash them. She felt Griswold howl in pain but kept her grip tight, trying to shut out the threats of death and dismemberment that ripped into her brain.

After a small eternity, they landed. Rezi shakily resurfaced into her body.

Ever a pleasure to be some small part of your greatness, she managed.

Get off of me, came the stony response.

“No one makes you do this,” muttered Rezi. Ensconced between the dragon’s eyes, her voice was too soft for his distant ears to hear. “You could just fucking die.”

Rezi came back to her bunk at the base and collapsed on the floor. It would be another month before Griswold needed to fly again. But he’d need to fly again. He always needed to fly again.

Adam walked by her room and stopped. He looked at her on the floor. “Griswold again?”

“He’s the fucking worst,” groaned Rezi. “And I hate saying that. It’s supposed to be an honor to work with his greatness, yadda yadda. I get to help keep one of the ancient wonders of the world alive.”

“But you fucking hate it.”

“I fucking hate him.”

Adam sat down on the floor next to her. “You only sound like this after flying Griswold. You’re Squishy McGee for everyone else.”

“Everyone else seems to understand that I’m there to help. Griswold acts like I’m the reason he can’t fly anymore.”

“You’ve been trying to shut him out?”

“YES,” growled Rezi. “I try, and I try, and I can’t do it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Adam.

“I know it’s the problem, everyone keeps telling me it’s the problem.”

“No, I mean — maybe you have to stop shutting him out. Every time you tell me about a good flight, it’s one where you and the dragon get hella entangled and unified and shit. Maybe Griswold’s exhausting because you keep trying not to do that.”

“I don’t want to be hella entangled and unified with a mind that hates me and wants to sear the flesh from my bones.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” said Adam. “I dunno. I just hate seeing you like this. You’re a good pilot. Don’t forget that.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said Rezi.

Adam laughed. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a dragon. I know when you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

“I don’t feel like a good pilot,” said Rezi. “I literally muttered to myself that he should just die.”

“You’re human, and he sucks,” said Adam. “You’re still a good pilot. Come on, let’s go eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“I will grab you by the brainstem, so help me God.”

“Rude,” said Rezi, and stood up. She knew he was only joking — a psychic never used their powers that way, it would be hugely invasive and a fucking crime.

A month passed. A little calendar in Rezi’s head kept silent, dreading count of how long she had until she had to fly Griswold again. Despite Adam’s words, she couldn’t shake that it was wrong to pilot a dragon you wished were dead.

She didn’t have to take to the cockpit until late afternoon. It would take nearly twelve hours to set up the mechanisms that would allow Griswold to fly, and that wasn’t her job. But she woke up at three in the morning anyway and went to the broad, misty meadow where the dragon lay sullenly. The techs were just getting the harness onto him, and he snarled at them intermittently.

Lord of Terror, the Nightmare that Never Ends? It is I, your pilot.

The dragon turned his head to look at her, and his voice was surprised. To what do I owe this early-morning pleasure? I had thought pilots treasured their sleep.

We do, replied Rezi. But our flights have been…fraught. And I think I must be failing you.

Griswold snorted. We rise into the sky. We land again. I live.

But you fight me. I feel how you feel. I feel your rage. I feel your hatred. I…I would like things to be different, if they could.

The dragon let out a laugh like a sudden downpour. Go home. We do not need to speak more.

Please. Most dragons love to fly. You hate it. Why? Why bother?

There was long silence, but Rezi could feel the contempt emanating from him as he put his words together.

I do not hate to fly, he said, slowly. But would you like to know what I hate?

Rezi felt her heart pounding in her chest. Yes, she thought.

Never once has it occurred to you that I feel what you feel, too.

Rezi felt her heart stop beating.

You look at me as a thing. A series of reflexes to be suppressed. Pain to be ignored. You ransack my mind with a passing pleasantry that you resent even having to make. You speak kind words because it is expected of you, because you have been taught that dragons respond well to flattery. Your words mean nothing, and I feel your thoughts when you are struggling against me. You respect nothing about me. You violate me. And you wish that I would die and leave you be. Tell me, why should I enjoy the indignity it takes to live?

Rezi had nothing to say. If you want another pilot—,

No need. They are all like you.

The wall of shame crashing down on her had nothing to do with Griswold’s mind.

I’m so sorry, she said.

Curious, came Griswold’s voice. You mean it.

When she strapped herself into the cockpit, she could barely bring herself to make the connection.

Lord of the Skies, do you wish to fly today?

I do not wish to fly anymore. But I must.

…Would you like my help?

I would not. But I will accept it.

I am asking entry to your mind. Will you grant it?

If I say no?

Then I would leave.

Then I suppose I have no choice.

She kept her mind more open as she entered. It was painful. He was gasping for breath, how had she never noticed that before? The lack of oxygen was like a hunger eating at the edges of every thought.

He noticed her noticing. There was a wry twist to his words, but they were not cruel.

You have been here many times. This is the first you have felt what is like to be without air?

We’re not supposed to connect too deeply. It makes it hard to concentrate. We can’t fly if we’re both suffocating.

Were you not chosen for this task specifically because you can connect in such a way?

We’re trained out of it. It’s amateurish. Dangerous.

You were taught to ignore pain?

We have to. It hurts you when we enter your mind, it hurts you when we control your reflexes. If it means saving our lives and yours, we can’t be afraid to hurt you.

Griswold’s mind rippled with wordless resentment.

It doesn’t have to be like this, thought Rezi. If you invite me in, make space for me — it doesn’t have to hurt so much.

There was a time that a monkey like you would never have even dared approach me.

I know, said Rezi. But you came to us.

It was the wrong thing to say. The rage roiled out of Griswold’s mind like a forest fire.

To stay alive! I am coerced by Death! No other force could bring me here.

Everyone dies eventually, thought Rezi.

Suddenly, the harsh oxygen hunger bit into Rezi’s own lungs. Unbidden, she felt the dread and fear of what it would mean to let it take over. The long, slow death of hunger, lungs burning to death.

You’re not scared of dying, she realized. You’re scared of suffocating to death.

Obviously.

But — it doesn’t have to be like that. No one dies that way anymore. I can turn off your reflexes — I can turn off the hunger for air.

The dragon’s mind was silent.

Prove it, he said.

You’ll have to let me in deep, said Rezi. It might hurt.

You may try.

Rezi found her way to the brain stem. It wasn’t hard to find the part that was causing the air-hunger; palpable pain came from it in waves. Approaching it was difficult, as her own lungs clamored for her to breathe.

She laid her hands on the screaming neurons. They were cold and smooth as steel, biting as though it were a winter’s day. She reached inside her own chest and found her own calm and her own breath. She closed her fingers around the vibrating nerves and willed them to still.

Clear, clean relief flooded around her. It hit her hard in the chest, euphoric.

We can fly if you want to, whispered Rezi. But you don’t have to. You get to choose.

I wouldn’t have to wear the harness. I wouldn’t have to feel the itch and thrum of those terrible machines.

Never again. Not if you don’t want to.

I would choose this, thought Griswold. You can promise me there will be no pain?

Pain is a reflex. Reflexes are what I do. I can give the word right now and we’ll stop gearing you up for flight.

Do it. A pause. You will stay with me?

Rezi hesitated. I can’t do it alone. It will take months to die this way. It will have to be done in shifts. But I will be one of the pilots, yes.

I want no one but you.

I can’t do that. But I will be one of them, I promise.

…Compromise. Even in death, I am made to compromise. There was a time no man would ask me to do such a thing.

Time makes bitches of us all, sir.

The dragon’s laughter rattled her chest.

I like your true voice. Very well. It will be as you say.

And it was. It took slow months. Long months. Effort and time, soaking in the dragon’s thoughts and regret as his mind slowed and drifted. The scream for oxygen, though, was silent. And for that, Rezi found she had endless energy. They made her take breaks, and she took them, because it wasn’t healthy to be so entwined with a dying creature. But whenever she started to falter, she would take in deep pulls of Griswold’s gratitude and relief, his delight at no longer feeling short of breath. It was better than flight. It was exhausting, physically and mentally. She slept hard in her bunk and forced herself to eat. Adam worried about her.

She wasn’t there when he died. No one could predict when exactly the moment would come, and she’d been on one of her mandatory breaks at the time. But when she came to his body, the pilot there nodded silently and let her have the cockpit to herself.

When she returned to her bunk, Adam found her.

“Told you you were a good pilot,” he said.

“Joke’s on you,” she replied. “I wanted him dead, and he fucking died.”

“That’s why I don’t get on your bad side.”

There would be another flight tomorrow.

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lordkingbyron · 6 years ago

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A Tribute to Chester: Life, Death, Rebirth, and How He Lives on in Memory

How do you properly memorialize one of your childhood idols? Are you supposed to scream, cry, and gnash your teeth? Or do you put on noise-canceling headphones and block out the ambient noise of the outside world for a while? All of these are difficult questions to answer. I guess that’s why they’re rhetorical. It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since Chester Bennington passed. So in a way, this simple little essay is how I can honor him. It feels nice to write something that isn’t fiction or related to a blog for a change[1]. Let’s see how it goes.

Part Zero: Notes from the Underground

I must confess that I was never a member of the official fan club, the LP Underground. I suppose in retrospect that’s how I could have proven I was a legit fan despite never seeing them live in concert except via live stream. But even then, that was a rare occasion. I do remember a t-shirt I got from Hot Topic when I was 12 or so – it had the faces of all of the guys gathered around the classic script font of the band’s logo.

I don’t remember what happened to it. The last time I remember wearing it was in August 2014. I supposed by then I had outgrown it. But still, buying whatever merch I could and getting all of the CDs and eagerly anticipating the next music video all had to count for something. I knew the names of all the guys, even Mark Wakefield, who was never an official member, and Phoenix Orion (Dave Farrell?), who left before Hybrid Theory but was back in time for Reanimation – more on that later.

But I digress. Let’s get on with the real meat of why we’re here. In terms of structure, I thought it would make the most sense to go album by album, discuss some memories I have associated with each, and attempt to unpack why they remain so important to me even as time has marched on since then. Growing up with the band, as I’m sure many of you did, you might feel a similar connection that you never fully grasped until the night of the tribute show in December 2017.

Part One: Hybrid Theory

#Forfeit the game/Before somebody else/takes you out of the frame and puts your name to shame/Cover up your face, you can’t run the race/the pace is too fast, you just won’t last. [HT Track 4: “Points of Authority”]

Although Hybrid Theory came out in October 2000, I think the first time I heard it was for another month or two after it came out. It’s still one of the most vivid memories I can still recall, the first time “Papercut” blared out of a cd player. I was sitting in the basement at my buddy Andre’s house and we were playing Perfect Dark with our mutual friend Alberto. It was honestly the perfect soundtrack for the game. Here’s what I said back then: “Dude, who is this? This is awesome!”

“It’s Linkin Park.”

Even then I thought the name was cool, the way that they intentional misspelled Lincoln – the rule of cool and all that. Elementary school hadn’t even ended yet, but it was still part of my formative years, musically speaking. Before then, I had never discovered any music on my own – my friends had always shown me. My parents didn’t raise me to enjoy music – I hated classical and most of the “standards” went over my head. My parents were still throwing karaoke parties. My old neighbor John showed me James Brown. That’s how I latched onto my first favorite song of all time “I Feel Good”. Then came Third Eye Blind, another early love of mine. But that’s a story for another time, as is my recollections of Limp Bizkit. This tale is about LP.

I wouldn’t realize it at the time, but Hybrid Theory would continue to be one of the most important albums to be me as I left elementary school and hit middle school. The days of Perfect Dark and WCW/nWo Revenge began to fade[2] as Diablo II and Starcraft emerged. The sound of Chester’s howls and Mike’s swagger along with the rest of the bands driving instrumentals provided a backdrop like you wouldn’t believe. “In the End” stood out in particular, although as middle school came to an end, it became clear that those reasons weren’t ones I wish to discuss here, now. Ask me again another time. It was at the end of middle school (hell, even before) that I confronted the notion of how deeply uncool I was, and probably tangled with imposter syndrome, anxiety, and depression long before I knew what any of those terms meant.

I already knew I was an introvert who was much more inclined to stay inside playing video games, reading, or writing instead of going outside to play street hockey or anything like that. That shouldn’t have meant that I was an easy target for bullying, but hey, it was the 90s and then the early 2000s, so what could you do? LP helped me cope, even if I couldn’t always express my anger in responsible ways.

I think here is a good place to stop and point something out: mental illness has been something that has been immensely important to me – it affects me and I know it damn sure affects my wife and mother in law. I went through a very dark time in my life roughly five years ago that LP also helped me pull out of – but I’ll get to explaining that more in-depth later on. Right now we’re still in the HT era; I just wanted to talk a little bit more about my motivations for writing this piece.[3]

Part Two: Reanimation

#Keep that in mind/ I designed this rhyme/ when I was obsessed with time. [RA Track 3: “Enth E Nd]

Full disclosure: when I first heard Reanimation, I thought it had its moments. But it wasn’t something I could listen to end-to-end and love every single song. Heck, even HT wasn’t like that, since some of the songs had to grow on me. The video with the robots and aliens having a war while the disembodied robot heads of the band sing the remixed version of “Points of Authority” by Jay Gordon of Orgy was definitely awesome, but I don’t know, I had mixed feelings about the album that took years for it to resolve into me think of it as one of the LP’s early era classics that would culminate with Meteora and Live in Texas.

I have a very distinct memory of popping this cd into the car’s stereo while we were out in…Houston? Taiwan? The details are blurry now because it’s been too long. Seventeen years was a long time ago, and 2002 me was simpler, less refined, and yes, much dumber and naïve. On an emotional level, “p5hng me Aw*y” stood out, and even though it wasn’t actually a true Linkin Park song, “It’s Goin’ Down” stood out from this time period too.

Part Three: Meteora

#I’ll never fight again, and this is how it ends…I don’t know what’s worth fighting, or why I have to scream, but now I have some clarity to show you what I mean… [MA Track 9: “Breaking the Habit”]

Meteora is one of those albums I more clearly associate with Diablo II and Starcraft more than any other games. Just something about the overall darkness and broodiness of the album really fit both of those games. Also, this essay project is making me want to go back in time. Not really from a nostalgia standpoint – okay yeah I guess from a nostalgia standpoint. But it was during this era that I really started to enjoy their music videos. Believe it or not, for the longest time, not all of the songs on the album were rated five stars. I used to be stingier with that rating that I am now. It took a while for some of the songs to grow on me, but “Somewhere I Belong”, “Faint”, “Easier to Run”, “Breaking the Habit”. “Nobody’s Listening”, and “Numb” were instant standouts. I’m still not sure what happened to my original copy of this album. The last I checked, I had a burned copy, but not the real deal.

Part Four: Live in Texas

#When I look into your eyes there’s nothing there to see/nothing but my own mistakes staring back at me# [LIT Track 8: P5hng Me A*wy – Live]

Man, I remember this too. It must have come out six months or so after Meteora did, and grabbing it from Kmart was one of my best days. I think it was also the first LP album to have the dreaded Parental Advisory sticker on it, and this is probably the album I blame most for me disliking the edited versions of songs. Sometimes edits can be clever, but when they’re just bleeps or certain naughty words are blanked out, then it gets annoying. Then again, I probably wasn’t a stranger to this concept thanks to early exposure to Third Eye Blind and Limp Bizkit, as I mentioned before. Was this the first time I heard “live” performances of LP? I think it was, and it probably stoked my eagerness to see them live in concert. Alas, it was never to be.

Part Five: Collision Course

#Yeah/Thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re far too kind# [CC Track 4: “Numb / Encore”]

It’s fitting that as I pick this up on (7/21/19) it’s the day after the 2 year anniversary. I meant to have this finished by the 20th, but it just didn’t happen. Plus “Numb/Encore” was one of the first songs that started up on this go-through of the playlist. If you’re interested in listening to it, I can direct you to my Spotify profile! Numb is one of those songs that have taken on new meaning since his death, but out of all the collaborations on this mashup album, I think it’s the one that works the best sonically and thematically, especially with the juxtaposition between angst and bravado[4].

Part Six: Fort Minor & The Rising Tied

#So sick, if he’s gonna think/That the good lord would come take him/I’m shaking him, “Wake up, you son of a bitch!”# [TRT Track 14: “Red to Black”]

It was four years between the era of Meteora and Minutes to Midnight. In between that time, there was a sea change. First there was the mashup with Jay-Z, and then this came along in November 2005. I remember being more stoked for it than probably any other music that I discovered that year – and this was when Fall Out Boy, 50 Cent, and Coheed and Cambria dawned on me, among others. For those who don’t know, Fort Minor is/was Mike’s side project. He’s since done other solo stuff under his own name but between then and now he would bust out verses from The Rising Tied and incorporate them into existing songs. I always thought that Red to Black was the most LP-sounding song on the entire album and that for the longest time I thought Chester used Jonah Matranga as an alias and it wasn’t a separate person.

Part Seven: Minutes to Midnight

#In this farewell/There’s no blood, there’s no alibi/Cause I’ve drawn regret/From the truth of a thousand lies/So let mercy come and wash away# [M2M Track 6: “What I’ve Done”]

In the interest of time, these entries are probably going to get shorter and shorter. At this point, I just want to get the damn thing over with. “What I’ve Done”, the lead single was the one that struck me the most at first; I remember LP making a big deal about how they wanted to start a new sound after leaving their classic era behind. The music video was awesome, and I think LP was one of the best choices for the Transformers movies. I always thought that “What I’ve Done” would make a great wrestling song. Not necessarily as an entrance theme, but as a hype video for a PPV or a feud or something like that. EWR back in the day helped reinforce that belief though I can’t exactly remember what I associated it with – anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The day that I got this album was the same day the shooting at Virginia Tech happened. Finding out that the shooter was a mentally ill Asian dude spooked me. In today’s parlance, I was shook.[5] That’s something that has always stuck out even though it’s something I’ve not been fond of discussing, for obvious reasons. Still, for our purposes here, it is for once, actually relevant.

Part Eight: Dead by Sunrise and Out of Ashes

#Don’t want to lose my innocence/Don’t want the world second-guessing my heart/Won’t let your lies take a piece of my soul/Don’t want to take your medicine# [OOA Track 2: “Crawl Back In”]

The melodies that emerged on Minutes to Midnight, especially when it was Chester’s turn to take the mic, evolved. They turned into another platform for his music: the side-project Dead by Sunrise and their only album, so far as I know: Out of Ashes. I lump this album in with Welcome to the Masquerade by Thousand Foot Krutch and Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin. All three emerged during my sophomore year of college[6], which was another difficult year for me. I think that is when I had the most trouble sleeping, either by choice or for other reasons. Out of everything LP-related, I think I have given this the least amount of attention. It’s probably time for that to change, ten years later.

Part Nine: A Thousand Suns

#Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds/I suppose we all thought that, one another# [ATA Track 2: “The Radiance”]

If Minutes to Midnight was an attempt to step out of the shadow of Hybrid Theory, then A Thousand Suns represented an aural breakaway. It was vastly different, integrating more spoken word and turning up their signature sound to 12. I can’t remember exactly if it was in 2009 or 2010 that I was meant to go see LP as they rolled into DC. Ultimately, I couldn’t go because of a lack of transport. It all ended up moot anyway because that was the show that got canceled because of Chester being sick. Trying to dig up that post on Facebook is probably beyond me now because it’s a day late. Maybe someday I’ll be able to find it again because those days were golden (at least my pathetic little eulogy for him that I wrote two years ago.)

Part Ten: Living Things

#Fly me up on a silver wing/Past the black where the sirens sing/Warm me up in a nova’s glow/And drop me down to the dream below# [LT Track 6: “Castle of Glass”]

So if LP had been striving to break away from the sound that made them famous, it was at this point where they were “Nah bro” and went full bore back around into an ouroboros[7] of awesome. While the vast majority of A Thousand Suns[8] had to grow on me over the intervening years, Living Things grabbed me by the throat and never let go. It followed the Hybrid Theory blueprint to a T. After all this time, “Castle of Glass” still stands out as my favorite from the album, but as is often the case, it’s hard to pick favorites.

Part Eleven: Recharged

#When I was young, they told me, they said/Make your bed, you lie in that bed/A king can only reign ‘til instead/There comes that day it’s off with his head# [RC Track 1: “A Light That Never Comes”]

The less said about this, the better. It had its moments, especially “A Light That Never Comes” which showed me the potential of Steve Aoki. But the memory that stands out most clearly about the day I got this album was getting a case of Hell or High Watermelon beer. I think since I got it from Record and Tape Traders, it was the day I found the TARDIS socks for Ally and sent them to her later that week. As you probably gathered from the cluster of footnotes, this was deemed my least favorite “official” LP album, and that ranking has held up in the last six years. It does to Living Things what Reanimation did to Hybrid Theory, but for whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to enjoy it more.

Part Twelve: The Hunting Party

#Cause you don’t know what you’ve got/it’s your battle to be fought/until it’s gone# [THP Track 7: “Until It’s Gone]

Ah, here we go. LP seems to follow patterns in the creation of their albums. Cause roughly a year after Recharged, there came The Hunting Party. After A Thousand Suns came and went, it seemed like LP was on a creative lull. But then we got LT, Recharged, and THP in three straight years. This came out in 2014, and it’s hard to believe that five years have passed already. To this day, I still think that my favorite part was all of the guest appearances on their album, especially from collaborators they hadn’t featured before then, like Daron Malakian and Tom Morello.

Part Thirteen: Welcome

#First time I did it, yeah I’ll admit it/I kinda hit it and quit it and left y’all hanging# [“Welcome”]

In all honesty, this should be a footnote for The Rising Tied. It came out 10 years later, as a way for Mike to tip a wink and a nod at all his fans that were still waiting for a full-fledged sequel. Fate had other plans, though. I can still remember helping to clean Tidewater while this song blared through my headphones. This probably became one of my most played songs of 2015.

Part Fourteen: One More Light

#Who cares if one more light goes out? Well I do# [OML Track 9: “One More Light”]

We’re almost to the finish line. I was super excited for One More Light because it broke a drought of no new music until 2017[9]. The song One More Light became more poignant after his passing. I hope it still makes him proud.

Part Fifteen: Afterword

So where do we go from here? Honestly, not even the remaining members of the band know. They’re not actively looking to replace Chester, and as a group, they’re still officially on hiatus. I didn’t even touch on any of the DVD or special edition releases that I’ve barely heard. I guess in a sense they’re honorable mentions, but without having listened to them, I can’t form any honest opinions or associations for them.[10]

[/mrhahn]

[1] It seems fitting that I mention that shirt I got as a twelve-year-old because that’s when I started picking up on writing as a hobby. It was a way to release my imagination and translate what I had in mind into a story, even if those early stories were embarrassingly bad. These footnotes will serve to flesh out those asides since they’ll more than likely distract from the main narrative I’m trying to spin here.

[2] Although Revenge remains iconic! Even to this day, I still long for an N64 and another copy.

[3] Chester struggled with MI too, even though hardly anyone knew it. It’s what ultimately got the best of him.

[4] My fascination with Genius Lyrics is really helping me to analyze and better understand the meanings of the words.

[5] It didn’t help that he bore an uncanny resemblance to me…

[6] 2009, how time flies!

[7] Not sure how to spell this dang word.

[8] I regarded it as my least favorite LP album until Recharged came out. More on that later.

[9] It wasn��t until that I built the playlist that inspired this essay that I learned that there were some other singles issued between The Hunting Party and One More Light. These tracks include “We Made It” with Busta Rhymes, which actually fell between Meteora and Minutes to Midnight; “Not Alone”, which was between A Thousand Suns and Living Things; and “Darker Than Blood” with Steve Aoki that was between The Hunting Party and One More Light.

[10] One was called “Frat Party at the Pankake Festival” and the other one was “Road to Revolution”, I think?

#chester bennington #Linkin Park #mental health #mental illness #make chester proud

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