#but i saw them perform monkey gone to heaven !!!

[majodump]

Loto origins

A very long-Long time ago I used to be a beautiful flower I was seen as one of the most beautiful flowers in the celestial garden. I was right in the middle for all to see my beauty and for me to be able to listen to all and everything that included praise by many that passed but also the knowledge that elders and all that came to the garden share.

They praise me they all loved me and between their love for me and all the knowledge that I was learning I started to develop a conscience as

I learn more and more from the sermons and stories and I had a pretty good understanding of what life was like for the people around me even was able to Study some of their secrets and learn their techniques but of course, being a simple and yet beautiful flower I was able to learn this trick but not perform them nevertheless life was wonderful until one day...

It was a normal day in the garden

A day that looked to be like any other

That was until HE appears...

I had seen him mindlessly pass by from time as he made his presence obvious by his improper appearance

And loudness.

I can still hear the whispers of all those passers-by telling the story of this powerful fo and all the miss adventures that his name carry.

This time the whisper came again telling the tales of how he came back after 500 years and he is now asking for help in one of his quests. But now he was obligated to wait for settings near the pounds until his help arrived. He looks so bored and a little sad.

My petals glow as a chuckle wanted to escape me. "This was the terror that almost devastated heaven all does millennia? And now the all-powerful terror is asking for help?? Don't make me laugh because I would if I could."

As my petals glow and glow I realize I had taken the attention of this unwanted guest. Whom is a feed of stupidly and impulsiveness decided to rip me out of my home and stack me away between his persona and the trigger kilt he carried. After that everything when dark...I could barely hear the conversation ad and I try to do glow to do anything that would make my presences know but in the end it was futile. All I was able to hear was the screams of my capture begging to take his circle way but those too were sent to deal ears.

After the fight, it went quiet and all I felt was darkness

and silence.

After a while, I felt a strong breeze as the kilt move to reveal a the beautiful sky as I have never seen before but before I could admire the scenic view I realize I was getting close up from the garment and before I could do anything I felt ...I fell for like it felt years my home my life my purpose they were all gone and all I can see was the skies above and a Figure getting more distant by the second. I

And then I was covered in darkness again.

When I woke up I was in the water and I thought I was safe for a the moment I even thought it was home

But there was a feeling something I have never felt before it was something paralyzing and horrible. I think I heard people of the palace talking about a similar experience After battles. They called it....pain.

I was in pain. I couldn't move the only thing I could see was the sky above but I try to feel where this so-called pain was coming from because I had never felt this before but more than that I had never felt anything before..and with this realization came to another thought "I had never felt this before" as I try to move my leaves I felt them has broken and as if both of them had been split into 2 parts for each leaf a lot of me felt like it was broken all over my stem was craked in two maybe 3 different parts? And my petals felt extremely heavy.

I lay there in that pond wondering about this new feeling I saw the night and day pass by multiple times and during this time even when I couldn't get up I started to learn to use and the split of my leaves and little by little I had been able to move my right leaf and put it in front of me to be able to see the damage caused but instead of my beautiful leaves what I saw it was nothing the most hideous monstrosity and hand that almost the mirror that one from that fault the creature that took me the way, was horrendously dirty and furry extremity that was occupying the space of my beautiful leaves. Was in so much shock that was able to get others extremely working only to find that it just looks as horrendous as the last.

With time was able to flip me over to see my reflection in the water...what I saw made me shiver to my Core. A beast was looking right at me a face similar to t that of the monkey that took but not quite the same and as I keep looking at it I couldn't quite recognize if its

Expression was that of fear, confusion, hopelessness, sadness, or a combination of all. The more I looked at it the more I realize that I had lost everything and more...

After many travel and attempts, I finally managed to get back home but by the time I finally arrive I was rejected by everyone around me. As they didn't want to have any other monkey problem on their hands. They didn't even recognize me and their eyes were does of coldness and disgust instead of the warm and loving faces that used to admire me.

In the end, after grading a few stuff I leap out and never look back.

Now I had a new mission and It was to find the monkey that made my life miserable and make him suffer just as much as he made me.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 4

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 4: Ramen Noodles for the Soul

There was a battle commencing as two shadows faced off against each other, one being a ghastly figure that had the body of a tiger, but nine human heads with elongated necks and the other was a petite woman and all she had with her was a fan. The dark area surrounding them was riddled with buildings ripped apart and the still bodies of people then the beast lunged at her with a silent roar.

“The Kaiming Shou ran first as they viciously tried to strike the Geisha down,” the voice said as the creature was about to tackle her down, “but she was too quick for him,” the woman elegantly dodged as she leaped into the air.

“The woman was through with the beast wanton destruction so with her aim true she cut off the first head,” the woman fan opened and it had cut off one of the creature heads. “And then the second,” the next head soon plopped to the floor as she continued that action until she was left with only a headless body, “until finally none remained and with a flick of her fan,” The Geisha’s eyes seemed to narrow minutely as she gently waved her fan to the beast and it erupted in a gulf of blackened flames. “they had burned into the nothingness.”

The scene then transformed into one of peace, the bodies and destruction vanished and in its place, a field of flowers had grown next to a rustling town.

“No one knows exactly where the Geisha had gone nor who she was, but that had no purpose in the townspeople's eyes as they were grateful for saving them in their time of need,” the voice continued as the villagers all bowed to the field of flowers. “So they tell this story, not in hopes of finding who she was, but rather to tell all that if you ever happen to meet the valiant woman that saved them from ruins, to kindly welcome her with open arms.” The scene faded to black and a few seconds later a round of applause erupted with cheers quickly pursuing.

The voice took off his hood and gave a mock bow to the audience as made his way off the stage to let the next person go.

“Mac, why are you such a hard act to follow,” one of the performers sighed as he walked towards the stage, “you know everything after yours is gonna be less than mediocre.”

“Then get good,” he smirked.

“Maybe you're just too good,” he playfully punched the monkey's shoulder as he went to the stage to set up.

“That was awesome!” A young boy bolted from his seat as he collided into Macaque, “super cool!”

“Thanks kiddo,” he said as he lifted him off the ground and tucked him under his arm, “now let’s find your sister before she rips off your head.”

“Pfft, Yan Yan won’t be too-,”

“BAO!” A voice sternly called out and he could feel the boy shrink.

“Shit,” he muttered as he soon saw his sister followed by his brothers and sisters and a certain Jellyfish demon, “double shit.”

“Thank you for finding him Mackey, your plays are marvelous as always,” the bluenette woman gave a quick smile to her former teacher and her eyes pivoted on her idiot brother as it tightened, “as for you.”

“I love you very much,” Bao said with puppy dog eyes and a pout as soon as he was let down.

“Really,” Bohai deadpanned as one of the children began to play with his tendrils.

“Cute, but that stopped working a long time ago,” she instead began to lecture him on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone as they all left, some even complimenting him on his play as they walked by.

“Yan is really protective when it comes to them,” Mei hummed out as she dragged MK by the sleeve of his purple jacket, who was morning.

“You should see when they go out in the street, that’s a right nightmare,” he said as he tied his fluffy mane of fur back up in a ponytail. “Swear the only reason she is friends with Bohai is that he can help wrangle all those kids.”

“Soooo, I didn’t know you were such a theater nerd,” she mischievously grinned. She was excited to find out that the tough, grumpy monkey actually had a love for the theatrics and voluntarily went out from time to time to play at the theater. She teased him endlessly for this the second she found out about it.

“Dad likes his dramatics,” MK unhelpfully replied as he crossed his arms.

“What’s got you so moody,” the father asked and all he got was a groan in response.

“Someone dropped all of his snacks and he won’t stop whining about it,” she teased him.

“My caramel popcorn was in there!” He dramatically cried out and fell to his knees. “All that delicious goodness! Gone!”

“How about ol doc over here can take us to this amazing noodle shop I know,” Mei patted his shoulder.

“Really?” He looked up at her with hope.

“I am?” Mac quirked one of his eyebrows.

“Yes, because you don’t want two poor children to go hungry,” the fourteen year old put her hands on her head in a faint.

“I am soo hungry,” MK flopped on the ground to emphasize both of their points.

“I guess if I have to,” he begrudgingly agreed in a mocking tone as the two teenagers cheered.

“I’m telling you, this place's noodles are simply to die for,” Mei said as they approached a restaurant called Pigsy Noodles.

“I’ll take your word for it,” the monkey demon shrugged as Mei opened the doors wide open and they heard a friendly voice greet them.

“Welcome to Pigsy Noodles!” They saw a short pig in an apron turn around to face the group, “How can I help-,” he paused for a moment as he stared not at the kids, but rather at the monkey that was accompanying them. He didn’t know why, he never met the chimp before, but something felt a bit...off about that simian.

He wasn’t the only one as Macaque felt almost a tinge of tension, now he met all types of Pig demons, but he has never felt one so similar to Zhu Baije before.

It was a tense stand-off before Mei butted in, “We are here for your finest noodles! I promised MK here that yours is simply the best!”

This snapped the pig out in an instant as he smiled at the two, “well of course it is, come and sit. I’ll have the menu out in a jiffy,” he gave a nod and turned to grab the items.

The three sat down and the monkey gave a quick once over on Pigsy, both physically and spiritually, and relaxed once he realized that, no this was not the original Zhu Baije, it was just someone that had an eerie likeness to him. But he still kept a careful eye out to him and he knew that Pigsy was doing the same as he kept glancing over to him from time to time as he prepared another customer's food.

“Mmmm, this is good!” MK said as he slurped some of the noodles.

“What’d I tell you,” Mei said with her mouth full of Yao mein.

Macaque mentally agreed as he sat in between the both of them and silently ate his food.

“Many thanks from such esteemed customers,” the pig demon jokingly said.

“It’s quite good,” another voice added, though this time Pigsy's smile quickly turned to irritation at that voice.

“It's better to be the best damn thing you have eaten with the number of times you don’t pay freeloader,” he said.

“Ah, but isn’t the knowledge of my experience of my worldly knowledge of the unknowns, myths, and truth that surround our world. Whether it comes from the depths below to the heavens high in the sky, truly that is the greatest substance of all ” the man mysteriously says as his glasses almost glinted.

“Is it money,” Pigsy deadpanned.

“No,” the aura of mystery that surrounded him suddenly dissipated as he sheepishly grins.

“Then I don’t care!”

“What kind of unknown?” MK perked up as he turned to look at the stranger. “Is it cool? Are they adventures?”

“How about fights? Are there lots of action packed ones filled with danger and mysteries?!” Mei joined in as she got interested as well.

“All of that and more,” the stranger hopped into the chance to tell some of the stories that he had uncovered. “You have all heard the tale of the Legendary Monkey King, correct?”

“Yeah!” They both excitedly cheered but paused as they glanced back to Macaque who was still eating.

“As long as you don't up and leave the restaurant, you can listen,” he waved them off very much knowing why they looked to him in the first place. “Get me another bowl please,” Mac said to Pigsy as he handed him some money.

The pig just nodded as he turned his back to start up another bowl.

The two smiled at him and rushed off to hear the stories on the other end of the counter and that left both Pigsy and Macaque alone together, who both silently decided that it would be best to passively listen to the story than talk to each other.

“-and legends say, that only one with vast knowledge and strength are the only ones they can create the mystical pills of immortality,” Tang mysteriously said as the mythical book was laid out between them.

“So only people with amazing powers can do that!” MK’s eyes widened. “So cool!”

“Or they can just steal it, like the Monkey King,” Mei grinned.

“Or that too,” Tang nodded to her, “but even that was a feat in itself that he had managed to successfully procure such valuable items in that time frame.”

“Man it must be tough to find them all,” MK said.

“It is, some are deep under the seas where only the legendary dragons dwell, another is high up on the mountain tops where you have to pluck it just right or else you have to wait for eons before trying but want to know a secret,” Tang leaned in.

“Yeah,” they whispered and followed suit.

“There is said to be a plant in the Plum Blossom forest that is an ingredient to make the Pills, but no one has yet to find it,” the man happily stated as he began to talk, not knowing of the two nervous glances as they forced themselves not to turn around to a certain monkey.

Macaque only grinned into his cup once he heard that, but Pigsy scoffed.

“Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me,” he said as he wiped down the counters.

“Well every myth has a fraction of the truth,” he rebutted, “so I’m not giving up my exploration yet.”

“You visit the forest?” Mei curiously asked.

“I try to go as much as I can, but not just for the plants, there is rumored to be all types of different mythical creatures and spirits that wander in the forest,” Tang excitedly said.

“Oh really,” MK forced out with a pained grin, Mei was the same as she had seen some of them when she slept over one day. “That sounds really cool.”

“So,” the pigtailed girl tried to redirect the conversation, “I want to hear more about the Monkey King or any other gods, please.”

“Well I do have one in mind,” the man's eyes lit up as he flipped through the pages.

The two kids have a sigh of relief.

“The Six Eared Macaque is an interesting one.”

And immediately they both tensed back up.

“He is a demon that has caused mass confusion throughout history as no historian can agree which version is correct,” he landed on a page with a shadowed monkey with glowing violet eyes that seemed to bore into them.

“Oh, well-,” MK was cut off by Tang as he went on.

“Is he this one-note villain that simply stood in the Monkey King way or is he more of the mischievous trickster that helped wandering souls against vengeful beings and healed those when they asked. Is he both? If so, was he the healer before or after the Journey? If before then why did he decide to attack the Monkey King? If after, how did he survive that last attack? There are just too many questions that surround the origin of the Six-Eared Macaque, it’s truly quite fitting due to his nature.”

“It really is,” Mei gritted her teeth and slowly turned to face said Monkey demon, “hey Ma-I mean fluffy, I think it’s time we head home, right MK.”

“Yes we do,” he robotically said as the two made their way back to him.

“Oh is it getting late?” Tang blinked, “I didn’t even realize it.”

“It’s all good,” Macaque smirked as he ruffled the two heads, “nice stories.”

“History you mean,” he gave a wide smile, “besides, they were very good listeners…sorry I didn't catch your name?”

“Macaque,” he happily ignored the kid's panicked stares at him.

The man looked at him for a solid minute before laughing, “like the Six Eared Macaque! What a strange coincidence.”

“It sure is,” he smirked.

“Your parents must have loved the myths then,” he wiped a tear.

He shrugged, “it came along the way.”

Tang was a bit confused by that, but before he could ask the monkey he put a hand on both of the teenager’s shoulders and they seemed to vanish the next moment.

“…alright I’m not even gonna question how,” Pigsy grumbled as he continued cleaning.

“He vanished like a thief in the night,” Tang said in amusement.

“At least this thief paid for his food,” the pig grumbled then he noticed that there was some money with a note. Pigsy took a glance at the message and he gave a slight grin, “congratulations Tang, I won’t be on your ass today about your meal.”

“Huh, but you never let go of a chance to put it over my head?” The historian questioned as he walked over.

“Well you can thank their dad,” the pig demon showed him the note and he read it.

Thanks for keeping them entertained, food is on me.

“Well that is nice of him,” he smiled, “I hope they come back sometimes.”

“Hmph, any paying customers are more than welcome,” the pig said as he continued his cleaning, while the historian was more than happy as he continued to eat.

It was the middle of the day and both kids had their designated classes, whether online or home tutoring, and he was currently plucking out some of the weeds from a batch of Morning Glories when he saw the flowers bloom. “Back again already crackpot,” he called out as he took out one of the longer weeds he was plucking out of his mouth.

A croaky voice with a laugh, “what can I say, I can’t stay away from your glowing personality.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood up and turned to meet a balding old man with frizzy red hair and no shoes on his feet, “fuck off.”

The old man gave him a toothy grin as he flopped to the ground, poured a cup of wine, and held it out to the monkey.

“A bit too early for a drink there Shen,” he mused as he took the cup from his hand and sat next to him.

“It’s late somewhere else,” he chuckled and leaned back against one of the Plum trees.

“Yeah yeah,” he waved him off and took a sip of the drink, “don’t you get tired of drinking the same shit every time?”

“Yep,” Shen said.

“And you're still not gonna switch it out any time soon?”

“Nope,” he grinned and took a swing.

“You know one day you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is,” he grumbled in his drink.

“Not on my life.”

“Thought so.”

“Hey Dad,” MK called out as he entered the infirmary, “do you know where-,” he paused as he saw that he wasn’t alone.

“Didn’t expect you to have a hatchling,” the large alligator demon said, or what he assumed was an alligator as he looked almost similar to a ghost but in blue.

“Not most do,” Mac said as he picked out a violet plant and started to look it up in a book.

“Uhhhh,” his mind was running a mile a minute trying to come up with what was happening. “Sorry?”

He waved him off, “just be glad it wasn’t surgery.”

“So what is going on?” He asked as he slowly closed the door behind him.

“Just whipping up an antidote for him,” he hummed out.

“I didn’t know ghosts needed medicine.”

“Not a ghost,” the alligator muttered.

“Huh?”

“What he means is that he’s in his corporeal form,” Mac further explained as he began to dice up the plant. “Had to with the amount of poison in his system, so I just placed him in the lamp as usual.”

“Poison!? Lamp?!” He said in alarm.

“…oh I guess you have never seen it before, hold on.” Mac finished placing the last ingredient inside, stirred it, and let it simmer. He turned to the alligator, “want to rest or free roam?”

“Rest,” he said.

The monkey complied as he used his tail to grab a lantern and in the next moment, the transparent demon was gone.

“What is that?” MK went forward to get a better look.

“This is the Shadow Lamp, it allows me to store people's bodies in there, which puts said bodies in a stasis thus allowing me plenty of time to make the medicine needed.”

“Oh, so it’s like a fancy tool to help patients! Why don’t all doctors have this?”

“Cause originally this was not a medical tool,” he explained as he carefully set the lamp down.

“A weapon? How?” He tilted his head, he didn’t see how a lamp can cause harm.

“It was used to suck the bodies in the lamp, but be able to control their shadow against their own will,” he inwardly chuckled at MK's shocked face.

“What?! That can happen?!”

“Yep.”

“But wait?” He backtracked as he looked at the lamp, “if it’s so dangerous why are you using it?”

“At the end of the day, a weapon is just a tool,” he quietly said, “it doesn’t have any emotions, no attachments, no moral conceptions, it’s just a tool that anyone can use. It’s the one who uses the weapon that determines how the tool can be used.”

“Really?”

Macaque paused as he looked into MK bright eyes, he gave a small smile.

“Really.”

He put away his supplies and safety materials before ruffling MK’s long hair. “Now how about you tell me what you were originally here for nightlight.”

“Oh right! Do you know where the spare water bottles are? The others have holes punctured in them.”

“Damnit Minsheng,” Mac pinched his nose, “they should be in the bottom cabinet by the fridge.”

“Thanks!” He said as he left the infirmary, “Want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’ll be a bit busy,” he muttered as he took out his phone, “I have a few arrangements to make, specifically with some glue, rope, and a whole lot of glitter.

“Hey Pigsy!” MK hollered out as he walked into the shop, “the usual please!”

“Coming right up,” the pig grinned as he was already preparing his order.

The fifteen year old grinned as he sprawled over the counter, “Tang not here today?”

“Surprisingly no, he’s probably off at the library or some antique store,” the pig demon then noticed that he was alone, “surprised I don’t see Macaque or Mei here.”

“Well Mei wanted to pick out her future bike, so she dragged Dad over to the auto shop.”

“Auto Shop? For a bike?”

“Motorcycle,” he explained.

“Ah,” he nodded and placed his food in front of him, “bon appetit.”

“Thank you!” He cheerfully replied as he dug into his food.

Pigsy just grins at the boy as he was about to go back to cleaning up since MK was the only one in, but he paused as a probing thought couldn’t leave his mind. He knows it wasn’t any of his business and he hasn’t seen anything damaging nor even concerning, but his damn gut has been bothering him ever since he laid eyes on him. “So kid.”

“Hm?” MK looked up as some noodles were hanging from his mouth.

“I'm a bit curious about your old man, he isn’t the chattiest bunch and I’m a bit curious at what he does,” he casually asks.

“He’s a doctor!”

“Really?” Now that was a surprise, he was betting on being some sort of martial arts teacher.

“Really! He’s super smart and a bunch of people and demons go to him, he’s even had a student before.”

“Huh, doesn’t seem like the type to take on a student.”

“No, but she was really persistent,” he grinned at the understatement.

“I bet.”

“Though he is a bigggg worrywart,” he leaned back from his chair.

“He is?”

“Oh yeah, like there was this one time when I was ten that I scraped my finger against a really thorny plant and when I yelled out, he instantly picked me up and started to treat my entire arm as he tried to find out if the plant was poisonous while asking me if I had a fever, nausea or any other symptoms and during that entire time I was not let down,” he deadpanned.

He snorted at the image, “that certainly is unexpected.”

“He also sometimes performs shadow plays at the theater.”

“Flair for the dramatics,” he quirked his eyebrow.

“Like you wouldn’t believe it,” he nodded.

Pigsy chuckled, “makes me wonder how he met your mother then.” Though he stopped as he saw MK fell silent and his face flushed. “���did I say something wrong?”

His head shot up and he shook his hands, “No! Nothing! You said nothing wrong! Well-actually a bit, but not anything mean! It’s just that-well he…adopted me.” He couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face.

“Oh-shit, I’m sorry that was really callous of me,” he winced, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“My loss?” His grin faded at the unusual statement.

“Your parents,” he clarified.

“Oh,” face completely slack and blank, “they're not dead.”

Pigsy’s eyes blinked, “Oh,” then he came to the realization of just what he meant and his voice and face dropped, “oh.”

MK gave a sad little smile, “Yeah, he actually found me in a back alley when it was about to rain and he adopted me from that point on. He may not be blood related to me, but he’s still my dad.”

The pig smiles and begins to heat some noodles, “and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, you want some more? This one is on the house.”

“Yes please!” He perked up.

Pigsy couldn’t help but give a wide smile at the child's affectionate nature, it was contagious.

‘Glad for my gut to be wrong for once,’ he mentally thought as he poured the soup in, ‘he just looks like the usual jackasses you see in the underbelly, but he’s just a protective bastard for his kid…kids, half sure that he practically adopted girlie.’ He should ask the monkey next time he comes in, it would be hilarious to see his reaction…damnit Tang has infected him.

Macaque was standing in front of the two teenagers in one of the forest's many clearings, “So after much deliberation, I decided to finally teach you how to actually fight.”

“I told you we would wear him down eventually,” Mei nudged MK, but they were both caught off guard when their feet were swept under them and they fell on their butts.

“First lesson, don’t let your guard down,” he said as his tail gently swished behind him, “that is the height of stupidity that will get you killed.”

“Noted,” they both groaned.

“Now,” he waited for a bit for them to get on their feet, “I can’t promise you that I am an expert on martial arts, most of my moves are just street fighting, but I can promise you that by the time I’m done with you guys, you will actually have a chance to put up a fight.”

MK and Mei listen intently.

“Mei,” she perks up, “I know your family has some sort of dragon ancestor right?”

“Oh yeah! The Great Dragon of the West Sea,” she proudly stated.

Macaque could only blink at the irony as he quickly realized just who her ancestor, or rather the son of the said ancestor, was, “Nope, not going to open that can of worms,” he muttered. “But yes that, and I believe that you have already looked through some of the martial arts teachings that was formed by him?”

“Yeahhh, but I’m having real trouble with actually learning some of the moves,” she nervously chuckled.

“That’s cause it shares the same qualities as Tai Chi, though with much serpentine movement, I have fought quite a few with that kind of style and usually two things stand out to me, they are quick and accurate.”

“Like a snake,” she nodded.

“Like a snake,” he agreed, “I can definitely teach a few off of the top of my head, but it would probably be best if I see a few of your scrolls at a later point so I can demonstrate.”

“Hell yeah!” She pumped her fist in the air.

“Alright, MK,” his head perked up at the call of his name, “you have zero knowledge of any type of fighting.”

He deflated at that.

“Which makes it easier to incorporate my style onto you.”

He instantly inflated back up.

“If there is one thing I have learned in all my years of fighting is-,” he vanished from view and both kids scrambled forward to escape being surprised from behind, only to be startled when they found their heads being gently pushed down from above and they were once again sprawled out.

“Be unpredictable,” he cheekily stated as he landed back down.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re going to be falling down a lot,” MK said as he lifted his face off the grass.

“I have a feeling you're right,” Mei muttered as she laid flat on her back.

“Like I said, welcome to your first class my unruly disciples,” he gave the most shit eating grin, “you have a lot to learn.”

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 8

Buster woke the following morning feeling like hell. His nostrils were so stuffy he could barely breathe out of them, his nose was on fire, and his mouth still tasted like blood even though he’d brushed his teeth twice before bed. He stumbled to the bathroom to look at the damage. Two small purple bruises underscored his eyes and the bridge of his nose was swollen to twice its size. His appearance confirmed that canceling filming had been the right decision. He swallowed some aspirin, cleaned his teeth again, and took a shower, letting the steam open his clogged sinuses. 

The aspirin barely touched the pain. He toweled off and pulled on a dressing gown, then poured himself a breakfast whiskey to go with the steak and eggs he ordered. Once he’d eaten, he called Nate. To his relief, he was patched over to her line; she hadn’t left for Sunday brunch at Dutch’s yet. 

“Hello?” she said.

“Hi, how are you?” he said.

She told him that she was well. 

He said, “I broke my nose in the game last night.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How?”

He explained the eighth-inning fastball to the face. “But we won the game. 9 to 6.”

“Did you?” she said. “That’s too bad about your nose though. I’m sorry, darling.”

She sounded suitably sympathetic, but he craved more. He wanted the soothing, the I’ll-be-right-there, the kissing and canoodling. 

“How are the boys?” he said.

“The usual,” she said. “Full of the devil.”

“Good,” he said. “I won’t be filming for a few days because of my nose. You should really consider bringing them up. They’d love the steamboats and I’d like you to see the set. They say the shopping is good in Yolo, too.”

“Oh Buster,” she said, her tone telling him the answer was already a big fat no. “You know I’d love to, but six hours on a train is too much for them, don’t you think? I know you’re disappointed, but we must think of what’s best for them. And wouldn’t they be in your way? I’d have to bring Connie to mind them, and I think four is getting to be a crowd. I don’t suppose your suite would hold another four, would it?”

“Nate, you don’t have to bring the governess. I think you’re perfectly capable of managing them for a few days, don’t you? We can get a second suite or even a third, if that’s what has you concerned.”

“I’m flattered by your faith in me,” she said with a little laugh, “but you’ve never traveled with three- and five-year-old boys! I know I’m letting you down, but it’s only another month, isn’t it? Five weeks tops? That’s really not so bad when you think of it.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” he said, echoing her hollowly.

“I miss you dreadfully,” she assured him, before launching into a story about the picture Dutch was filming and the party she intended to throw with her sisters at the Villa next weekend. He listened with only half an ear. He wasn’t surprised about her answer to his proposal, but he still felt lousy.

Since Bobby had been born and Nate had booted him out of the bed, he’d accepted that his needs would have to be satisfied by other women. He knew that Nate hated him for it, even though he’d stuck to his original promise and been the soul of discretion. In spite of her rejection, he still desired her and wanted to win her back, but the most she would ever permit was necking and light petting. If he so much as thought about taking things further, she’d squirm out of his grasp. He just didn’t understand, even three years since he’d last made love to her, why he couldn’t have both a wife and the rights that other husbands were entitled to. He’d gone over it in his head a thousand times. Was he a bad lover? Was it her upbringing? Peg’s sermonizing? Her religion? Could she be a lesbian? He didn’t know and God forbid he even try to broach the topic. She’d give him such a withering look before she stalked out of the room that he felt like he ought to be thrown in jail on charges of sex depravity for even mentioning the idea. 

Divorce was out of the question, naturally. There were relationships to preserve: the one with Joe for starters and those with his famous sisters-in-law. He didn’t trust that Nate wouldn’t try to keep the boys from him, either, if he tried to end it. He could just hear her saying to some attorney, ‘Well, he doesn’t see them much anyway.’ In the meantime, all the saphead could do was to keep trying vainly to find that opening in his wife’s affections. Casting her as his leading lady hadn’t worked. Building her a little love-nest, then a great big love-nest, hadn’t worked. He’d recently decided that maybe a real honeymoon instead of the post-nuptial cross-country train trip that had masqueraded as one might work on her. He figured deep down it wouldn’t change her mind, but still he had his foolish hopes. 

When Natalie was done prating, he told her he had to get ready for lunch with Joe and said his goodbyes. There wasn’t any such lunch, but he no longer wanted to talk. 

He ended up spending the afternoon at the new zoo, disguised by a fake moustache, a tweed cap, and jumper vest that constricted him in heat on what was already a sweltering day. It worked, though. No one looked twice at him. The zoo was a disappointment. To begin with, it was extraordinarily tiny, but more importantly most of the animals featured—deer, wild turkey, raccoons—could be seen if you just sat in a Muskegon tree long enough. The most exotic offering consisted of some listless-looking monkeys in cages. A pack of adolescent boys thumped on their wire enclosures and screeched at them to perform. “Pick on someone your own size!” he yelled at them, and they scattered. The monkeys blinked back at him, not seeming to care one way or the other. 

He did have dinner with Joe that night at the Italian Restaurant in the Julius Hotel. As Buster tucked into his truffle tagliatelle, Joe dropped the bomb. 

“We can’t have the flood sequence.”

Buster laughed. “It sounded like you just said ‘We can’t have the flood sequence,’ Joe, but I don’t think I heard you right,” he said, and took a bite of tagliatelle. “Good one, though.”

“I’m not kidding. Think about how it’ll look. You’ve got a river that’s supposed to be the Mississippi—”

“Sacrasippi,” Buster said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Cut it out,” said Joe, frowning. “I’m trying to be serious. You’ve got a river that’s supposed to be the Mississippi and it’s supposed to flood. Well, you know as well as I do that hundreds of people just lost their lives in the Mississippi floods.”

“Since when do you care?” said Buster. If there was one thing he’d always liked about Joe, it was that he let him alone and let him make the pictures his own way. Something about this smelled fishy.

“It’s in poor taste. It’s not going to get laughs, it’s just going to bring bad publicity. I don’t want it to flop. There’s too much money in it.”

Buster set down his fork. Two words had stuck out: publicity and money. “This is Harry, isn’t it?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Joe gave a slight wave of his hand, dismissing the comment. “Now don’t go blaming Harry. I happen to agree with him. It would be a risky thing, and God knows what it would cost to pull it off anyway.”

“Well that god damn bean-counter,” said Buster, anger flaring. “We’ve already got everything set up for a flood! The entire god damn picture is about a flood. That’s the entire point!” Joe looked at him with a firm expression. “I’ve made up my mind. We can’t do a flood.”

“Well, we may as well can the whole picture then,” Buster said. “All my best gags are built around the flood. I can’t just start from scratch.”

“Look,” said Joe, continuing to eat his own meal. “We’re talking about lost lives here. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Horseshit,” said Buster. “Remember Chaplin’s picture Shoulder Arms? The ink wasn’t even dry on the Armistice when he released that. I remember ‘cause it was the first thing I saw after I got back from France. Everyone loved it. No one was thinking about how many soldiers had just gotten their heads and legs blown off in the war, they just knew a funny picture when they saw one.” He clenched his left fist in his lap. 

“Why not try another disaster?” Joe said.

“Like what?” he said. He stabbed at the pasta with his fork and took a bite without pleasure.

“I’m not the brains here.”

“What, like a cyclone? Joe, I bet you tornadoes and hurricanes kill more people each year than floods. Sure we wouldn’t get bad reviews and angry letters from folks whose families have been killed by tornadoes?”

Joe waved his hand again. “A cyclone sounds just fine. Anything that’s not a flood, you can do.”

It stunk to high heaven as far as Buster was concerned, but he knew Joe well enough to see when he’d made up his mind. He finished his tagliatelle in silence and didn’t even pretend he was willing to pick up the tab when Joe went to pay. He took a taxi back to the Senator and went to bed early, tossing between the sheets and stewing about his lost flood. There were butter cookies in the brown paper sack making dark greasy spots on its sides. Nelly stood outside Buster’s dressing room, her heart racing with the memory of what had happened last time she’d stepped inside it. Before she lost her nerve, she tapped on the door. 

“Come in!” called Buster. 

She slipped through and closed the door. He was sitting at his table again, not in costume today but wearing dark slacks and a long-sleeved blue jacquard shirt with faint stripes.

“Hi, it’s Nelly,” she said, by way of greeting. 

“I haven’t forgotten your name,” said Buster, one corner of his mouth quirking. “What do you have there?”

She stepped a few feet forward and extended the bag. “I made you cookies.”

He looked from the bag to her as he took it, surprised. “What did I do to deserve such an honor?”

“I heard you broke your nose,” she said. Indeed, she could see up close that his nose was swollen near the top and there were small faded bruises beneath his eyes, not noticeable unless you were next to him.

“So you baked me cookies.” He peeked inside. 

“Yes. I wanted to thank you, too,” she said, feeling the full ridiculousness of her gesture. “For taking care of me last Friday night.”

“No one’s ever made me get-well cookies before, not even my own mother. I’d just get cod-liver oil, even for sprains.” He sounded pleased.

“How’s your nose?” she said, as he bit into a cookie. 

“Hurts like the dickens,” he said, chewing. “I’m hoping the swelling will go down by Friday so I can start filming again.” He didn’t remark upon the cookie as he finished it, but she noticed he pulled another out of the bag. “We’re doing the night scenes soon.”

She was still a little fuzzy on Steamboat Bill’s plot, but this week’s filming had involved hundreds of local extras, and the grander of the two steamboats was piloted up and down the river, belching out huge plumes of black smoke. She’d taken a break to watch the spectacle. The crowd’s enthusiasm for the steamboat seemed real. The whole set certainly looked real thanks to all the props down by the riverside, the small boats, the large pennants reading KING, and the patriotic bunting draped on storefronts. Buster had been on hand near the cameras helping direct, but hadn’t noticed her in the throngs.

Buster went on. “I’ve got this publicity man who says I can’t have a flood because of the lives that were lost when the Mississippi flooded, so we’re changing everything up for a cyclone.” She marveled a little that he was telling her anything about the production, but tried not to show it. “I wondered what those airplane propellers and big motors Bert had me order were for,” she said. 

“These are good,” said Buster, pulling a third cookie from the bag. “Remind me to get hurt more often.”

“Or rescue foolish girls from themselves more often,” she said. 

“It was nothing,” he said. 

“It was something to me.” 

He considered her as he started on the third cookie. 

“Anyway, I already took lunch. I’ve got to get back to the shop,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. 

She had her hand on the door when he spoke up again. 

“Why that Shrew play, anyway? Why not Juliet?”

She turned back and looked at him, thoroughly confused. She had no idea how he knew about one of her dearest and closest ambitions.

He noticed her puzzlement and clarified. “You said your dream was to star in that Shrew play. Why? Why not Romeo and Juliet?”

“I don’t remember telling you that,” she said, feeling abashed

“Well, don’t get bent out of shape about it, I was just asking,” he said, a little defensively. 

“No, I’m not bent out of shape, I’m surprised,” she said, as she faced him. “I don’t remember saying that. I’m afraid of what else I, uh, might have said that night.” She cringed to think of what else might have come out of her mouth. “I hope I didn’t beg you for a break or anything.”

He regarded her with a calm expression. “You didn’t. I’d still like to know, though.”

“Well, Kate has a mind of her own. She wants to control her own fate. Marriage isn’t for her,” she said, conscious of how clumsy her words were. “She’s fun to play. Romeo and Juliet is a little boring.”

In truth, it was Katherine’s spirit which she loved, the rebellion against her father and Petruchio, and hang the end of the play. In her experience, the audience never remembered the end of the play, only the beginning and middle where Katherine was at her most defiant and fiery. 

Buster nodded, elbow on the table and finger sliding absently under his lip. The silence stretched on for long enough that Nelly said, “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks for the cookies,” Buster said.

Note: It’s easy when writing a fiction about Buster Keaton to cast Natalie Talmadge as a villain. I prefer to listen to Buster’s granddaughter Melissa Talmadge Cox who points out that the divorce is ancient history and that fans should get over it! Even though I’m writing a story that is obviously canon divergent, I always remember that Buster lived happily ever after with Eleanor Norris Keaton and considered himself to have had a lucky life with very few dark spots. Why did Natalie put a end to her sex life with the gorgeous, winsome Buster Keaton? I think the likeliest explanation is that she just wasn’t attracted to him or simply didn’t like sex. I do think Buster really loved her too and wanted things to work out, which is why their marriage lasted as long as it did. I’ve tried to convey that with this story. Also, I’m with Natalie. Trying to travel hours on a train with two young rambunctious boys sounds like a nightmare, even with a governess.  And yes, the Keaton governess was also named Connie, not to be confused with Constance “Connie” Talmadge, who was also frequently called Dutch. Finally, with a lot of digging through newspapers I learned that the date Buster broke his nose was July 30th, 1927! So the first scene takes place on the 31st. The second occurs on Wednesday, August 3rd.

[toddlazarski]

Last Suppers

Shepherd Express

“Please let me go ‘round again.”

— John Prine

I thought the apocalypse would be more exciting. Some kind of heaven-sent fireball, a mushroom cloud of malaise, Mad Max dune buggies. In this far off light I’d always pictured myself bearded, barricaded, adroitly philosophical, suddenly quite adept at swinging a sort of spiked bat or other homemade zombie stopper. Instead, so far, some five weeks in, nobody I know has gotten sick. Nobody in my orbit has died. Even being accosted by our neighborhood Jehovah’s Witness on the street, being told of end times and other corporeal human collapses I couldn’t stand or fully hear—being as they were, uttered by a man six feet away, while a two-year-old pent-up from quarantine perched on my shoulders and periodically bonked my head urging movement—took place from a mindful, strangely respectable social distance. 

Mostly these days just find me as an iPhone-glued glut of dissociated dread. A musty sack of torpor filling out ironically-named Champion jogging pants and a Totino’s-stained hoodie crowned by a hastily shaved head. What I’m currently reminded of, for some reason, from somewhere deep within the lizard brain that was weaned on world-end movies, is Deep Impact, and the way it all ends for Tea Leoni’s character: in front of a beloved beachhouse, with brave acceptance, facing truth and demise in the form of an imminent asteroid death, with her—father, maybe? (This recall may be way off, as I only saw the movie once, maybe 20 years ago, but I have a current therapist-mandated pause from internet research as the slightest twitch toward dot com-ing leads inevitably, instantly to a Milla Jovovich in Fifth Element-like doom scroll of terror). Regardless, this is how I view my resignation when being generous: a soft, somber, single tear strong-willed nod and jutted-chin acquiescence. I’ve had my restaurant meals, if they never come again. I’ve had too many, at too many bars. I’ve lived. So, here I am, at the freezer again, my own beloved beachhouse, mustering strength, wondering how much Ben and Jerry’s will pass before life maybe resembles normal again, or else until I see St. Pete, or St. Paul, or whichever is the one at the gates. Measuring the days till Quetzalcoatl in pints of Chunky Monkey. Wondering if I’ll ever again eat Cherry Garcia as a little reward, for a jog and some push ups maybe, instead of a desperate substitute for therapy, lobotomy. My biggest preoccupation is really Instacart deliveries, and the thought of them, the threat of them, where we let the bags sit on the porch like sentinels with tales from the front lines, or like badges of middle class virus-avoidance privilege. We hope the wind cleans off the Corona, I suppose, and then we let the same bags sit inside, eyeing our wares cautiously, suspiciously by the door, weighing the three articles advising cleansing groceries is unnecessary versus the one—always from Medium—that states everything inside a grocery store will likely give you and your grandmother the plague. Then, between the subsequent wiping—of course—and the beginning to plan six days out for the next Instacart delivery, and then the moisturizing of hands out of necessity from washing hands far too much, there has been such a background din of quiet second-coming contemplation. With little to do but wipe the door handle again, with the closest social contact being yet another episode of Cheers, there’s been too much time to think on all this, on all that went, all that was snuffed by a brutal harsh Monday morning reminder—all our kicks, our joys, our dinner plans and drink diversions, all that was maybe never really deserved in the first place.

For one or another—or none at all—reason that I choose to not consider too closely, the last normal weekend in contemporary American existence was a big one. A Friday night trip to Enlightened Brewing to check out Derek Pritzl and the Gamble was a promising prospect, sure. They had recently introduced me to, made me fall deeply in love with, play over and over again, John Prine’s “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness.” Still, as things were, it was largely run-of-the-mill in those distant days of social possibility. Just line up one of a few willing babysitters, jot on the calendar absent-mindedly, leave it peppered, like always, with the growing-old adult notion of if I feel like it. The self-importance of a modern American. The expectation, the world owing me it’s pearls and it’s oysters and it’s artisanal double India Pale Ales, for some reason. There for taking, when we wished. It’s like we were all Mad Men men, coming home from work where you expect your dinner to be waiting, your children cleaned and polite. You did a little bit of work and now you are owed something, the other half of your existence, calm and orderly and “here are your slippers, dear.” Now there is no choosing or taking or rewarding yourself with a night out, or rewarding yourself with a night in. It’s simply like our parents have given us an indefinite timeout, with more whiskey, yes, but also more, much more, morbidity. And also our parents are not coming to our room, eventually, to tell us it will all be ok. Rather, now, they might come, and stand on the sidewalk, while we stand on the front porch awkwardly, not knowing what to do with our hands, with no Easter hugs even considered, and mom might leave sugar cookies in a bag on the sidewalk, as if we were in prison, and she was the jailer that had to slide our sustenance gruel through a slot in the door. Only her said bag came with a real wonder: do we have to disinfect that now? I ran into a friend at Enlightened, then another, then a friend of a friend, and then a work friend—hugs for all the normal tangly tendrils of an adequate social life, amplified by guitars and rollicking songs of regret and craft suds and jocular end-of-week revelry. The band was twangy and driving and jostly, and I wanted it to be louder. Actually my spoiled fragile ego knew I deserved it to be louder. Meanwhile I talked importantly about basketball and somebody told me about their trip to New Orleans. “I’ll be there in a month,” I said. Like an ignoramus, like tempting fate, like I was one of the kids on the playground in Sarah Connor’s nuclear apocalypse nightmare in Terminator 2. There was no Purell in sight, in mind. 

Later, at the Newport, the bartender handed me a beer list, and I didn’t even note that, or contemplate my mortality on the fact, he wasn’t wearing latex gloves. I leaned close, doing the thing you have to do at crowded bars where you wedge between two seated patrons, brush one or both, amplify your voice to the hunched-forward Sam Malone, spittle and open mouths and casual “excuse me, I’m sorry, man” contact with strangers not an issue or thought, let alone transgression against the whole of humanity’s existence. The bummer about the NBA that night was that the Bucks were losing to the Lakers. The saddest part about John Prine was the line: “How can a love that'll last forever, get left so far behind?” What would any of us say, had we knowl—in 5 days the entirety of the NBA machinery would be suddenly halted, a broom handle stuck in the grinding gears? That I would have no chance at seeing live music again, for the foreseeable future? And that, weeks later, due to the same crippling circumstances, John Prine would be dead?  

The next night, somehow, as if acting on some last-chance latent level, I found myself barreling south for a Saturday night in Chicago. I rode a crowded Amtrak. I held the steel handle up the steps, followed along close in line, plopped unworriedly right on the worn blue cloth seat, I ordered a Lyft, I closed a packed bar with out-of-town big-city tenacity. Old friends shared birthday cake in a corner. I flushed a toilet, maybe didn’t wash my hands for a full 20 seconds, poked at the jukebox, clinked glasses, performed once-normal finger and hand functions that would now cause me to douse both extremities to the elbow in alcohol and ask for a light. My buddy and I kept drinking like we were Goodfellas, bound shortly for a stint in the can, which, in hindsight, we sort of were. Then we ordered another Lyft back to his place, like signing the tab on the last real Saturday night. Sunday was disarmingly sunny, soft, pleasant, the kind of warm early spring sliver that catches you off balance, leaves you without the right clothes or your sunglasses. So we sat inside, at the bar at a place called the Moonlighter, where we nursed hangovers with micheladas and shared fiery chicken wings and sloppily severed a grease-dripping American-cheesed burger and shoved it down our gaping gullets and licked fingers and laughed at the bartender’s Nascar sweatshirt, bitched about his lassitude. It was still a day where you could like a bartender or not like a bartender, and you didn’t have to wonder if all bartenders had simply vanished, poof, gone on the wind, Leftovers-style. You could do your drinking business and move on to the next one. Which we did, literally, deciding on pizza and homebrews at a spot called Bungalow that takes—that took—itself probably a bit too seriously. We’ve often fallen into this habit of double lunch-ing, not so much because we are slobs, fat and greedy and gluttonous. And not as some kind of intuitive acknowledgment that we were approaching end times. It also wasn’t just a love of time together, collapsing the 100 miles that separates our lives with a collective unspoken vow of ceaseless Epicureanism. Well, maybe exactly because of all those reasons. Either way we ate, glad they take, took, themselves so seriously with each bite, sip. And I got a pie to go, tucking it under my arm through Union Station, cradling the box like a toddler’s favorite stuffed dinosaur during my ride home nap, a last pepperoni and sausaged vestige from the world of living, togetherness, an experience slice from before we began to view each other as potentially poisonous flowers.        

My final restaurant meal was the day after, at Copper Kitchen, my neighborhood greasy spoon of fluffy omelets and watery coffee that you can never get half down before a refill magically appears tableside. A welcoming diner with video poker, and some staff that still eye me a bit questioningly because I’ve only been coming here for two years, and not 30, like most patrons always around me. By now though, with some work, our regular waitress is beginning to know the score, my daughter and I having seemingly earned the corner booth I always steer her toward. I grab the high chair myself, never need a menu, she orders her own “Mickey Mouse pancakes, please” in an impossibly tiny voice. In many ways, actually, it feels small town-worn, lived-in, like a John Prine song. A surreal slowdown, a place with a cook with a “short order face.” A spot of warm plates and unjudging respite. “If I came home, would you let me in? Fry me some pork chops and forgive my sin?” Our daddy-daughter day this early March Monday was flowing in a far more friendly manner though: another successful trip to the Domes behind us, we had full-stomach cold afternoon warm bed naps ahead. I wanted to tell her some news I was suppressing too, having just briefly talked to my wife on the phone about her recent brief phone call with the doctor. The info was just beginning to gel and bacon-grease coagulate down around my ham and cheese omelet and double-buttered rye. “You’re going to have a sister,” I almost said. Instead I let her eat more bacon, I let the waitress squeeze her arm affectionately as she poured me yet more benign coffee that I would sip and sip until it was time to leave. I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t time yet. But maybe I missed the time. How could I have known, that now, weeks later, Copper Kitchen and restaurants like it, all restaurants, are in real danger of never fully opening again? How was I to know that soon there would be no business anywhere for good news?

[zeemonkey1]

Why?

“I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” 

I wish I were lying about all of this.

I used to ask why a lot, y’all. Why Curious George does the things he does, why he gets away with it, why everyone defers to MYH like he is the Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu of the universe. Whatever pain-starved and masochistic readers I have left will no doubt agree that I have attempted in my ramblings to understand the why, and I have failed as utterly as when I tried to play basketball in high school. Know your role, saith the universe, basketball is not for you. Not only was basketball not for me, certain things were for me, and none of them were athletic, nor were they attractive to high school girls. That, in itself, was enough why and why me and why them to keep me filling notebooks with whiny, maudlin, cringy bullshit for years, chasing an unobtainable goal through various adolescent stages of goth, emo, grunge and whatever-the-fuck else in an attempt to be something (anything) different than what I was.

It took longer than it should have for me to realize that ca-caw, ca-caw and tookie, tookie DON’T WORK.

Yell for the monster all you want; he will not show up until his time is fulfilled.

Ask why all you wish; God will ignore you and focus on the what and the who because, if thou canst not draw out leviathan with a hook, then buddy, God ain’t got to explain shit, feel me?

ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die

Consider Kafka. There is no point, and that is the point. Sometimes people wake up as insects; sometimes people get arrested and stabbed for no reason at all. Sometimes people get beaten up by hoboes and change their name to “Negro.” Sometimes the moment is structured such that our protagonist lives in a village for no reason, has sex with a barmaid for no reason, and bides his time by fighting against a faceless bureaucracy for reasons he doesn’t understand towards a goal that doesn’t matter and we don’t even get to know what that goal is because Kafka died before he could finish Das Schloss. And anyway we wouldn’t even know or care if Max Brod would have just burned the notebooks filled with whiny, maudlin, cringy bullshit like he was supposed to.

The Man in the Yellow Hat knows what Kafka was throwing down. There is no point to the monkey; there is no purpose to be served. Life is a serious of random happenings that occur without our interaction, without our blessing, and without any manner of the control we like to think we have.

This is why clowns are funny.

This is why clowns are fucking terrifying.

Clowns do not follow the rules society has set down; they perpetually exist in a netherworld of obfuscation and misdirection. Why do they look like that? Why do they do all the patently ridiculous things they do? Why do they exist?

Because they do.

In this episode, MYH and George are traveling to a clown school. Nobody knows why other than a vague MacGuffin of wanting to see Pepe El Loco, ”the world’s greatest clown performer.”

But it is not a clown school.

It is madness.

And I don’t mean Lovecraftian Mountains of Madness, where the countless gibbering things at least have an unfulfilled hunger, a desire to devour , a desperate yearning to escape the foul darkness and feast upon the cracked psyches of all who behold them. I mean the kind of madness that plagues Pink Floyd’s Lunatic on the Grass, a meaningless madness, laughing at things that aren’t funny, laughing at nothing at all.

MYH almost finds a parking space, but then a clown car full of two other clown cars and like fifteen clowns cuts him off and steals it. Thus, it is the parking lot that becomes MYH’s Kafkaesque hellscape, and Curious George must brave the clown school alone. He is told to proceed to the ninth floor, where the Pepe El Loco show will be held.

First Floor: George sees a clown dancing with three dogs dressed as clowns around a fountain that is also a clown. The lobby looks like somebody paid Betsey Johnson to gravely insult Banksy using only decorations available at Party City. Another clown comes in, joy-buzzes himself for no reason, and leaves. Then, a messenger clown gets attacked by yet another clown who comes out of the elevator with a bucket filled with confetti.

Somehow, this means two things:

A. George cannot use the elevator. He must take the stairs.

B. George acquires the messenger clown’s bag, hat, and nose, which now makes George the messenger, like what happens to that suicidal guy in the Piers Anthony book about Death.

doctor you have to help me

Third Floor: George is distracted by a clown walking down the stairs on his hands. He forgets what floor he is on, and so opens the door on the third floor to ask for directions. The third floor looks like the playroom in that Richard Pryor movie The Toy. The woman behind the desk looks like one of the Murmurs joined the Swiss Guard and sounds like Fran Drescher.

She hands George what looks like a twisted green bongpipe and then genuflects to the portrait of Dear Leader Pepe El Loco on the wall. She explains that the bongpipe is part of the “greatest clown gadget ever” and George must go to the fifth floor to pick up another piece of it. George tries the elevator, but as soon as the doors open, a clown shoots another clown out of a cannon. The clown that is thus ejaculated bounces off a trampoline and back into the elevator. Who could use an elevator with all that mindless bullshit going on? Not George—back to the stairs.

Meanwhile, MYH finds another parking spot, but it is reserved for elephants. A clown shows up on an elephant and demands that he move. MYH keeps driving; elephant is parked. The clown leaves the elephant, but only after he hits a button on his keyring and the elephant-car-alarm beeps.

At this point, I paused the show and screamed at the heavens. The heavens did not answer.

i am sad and depressed

Fifth Floor: George is dumber than a football bat. I wonder if his intelligence fades in and out, like a variable Flowers for Algernon. Sometimes he can build fabulous machines. Sometimes he can solve mysteries. Today, trapped in the Tower of Madness, George cannot count from three to five, and thus must walk all the way down to the first floor and start over.

On the first floor the clown and his dogs are still dancing. Stop asking why—hear you nothing that I say?

On the fifth floor a clown riding a baby’s tricycle and sounding like Snagglepuss gives George some sord of weird-ass metal thingie with a red disk on the end of it like that orgasm-game Commander Riker played on TNG. This clown says go to the second floor. George still can’t count, so he goes down to the first floor and watches the clown and his dogs for a bit.

A worm crawling in my brain tried to make me say WHY? but I ignored it.

life is harsh and cruel

Second Floor: Second floor was just Paul Lynde bouncing around on bedsprings tied to his shoes. George collects another piece of metal tubing, heads down to the first floor to watch the dogs-and-clown, and then climbs the stairs up to the eighth floor.

pagliacci is a famous clown

Eighth Floor: Edith Bunker is dusting a bicycle seat in front of the Macedonian flag. She gives the seat to George and tells him to go to the fourth floor.

George has an epiphany. Instead of walking back down to the first floor and then up to the fourth, he can instead tape numbers to all his fingers and use them to subtract eight from four.

MYH is still circling the parking lot. As soon as he says “I’ll NEVER find a parking spot!” a clown jumps out of nowhere and paints a parking spot around his car.

I begin to believe Marcel Duchamp and Frank Zappa wrote this episode in a Navajo sweatlodge.

pagliacci is in town today

Fourth Floor: The fourth floor is the swimming level from Super Mario Brothers. A seal gives George something that looks like a can of pepper spray. A clown with a Minnesota accent unfolds from a filing cabinet and tells George to go to floor ten.

Now, follow me on this. We were told at the beginning that Pepe El Loco’s show happens on the ninth floor. That was the whole reason George and MYH came to the clown school. Now we know there is a floor above nine. Why this made me want to eat aquarium gravel will be soon made clear.

you should go see pagliacci

Tenth Floor: Clown on stilts gives George a toilet plunger and says he better hurry to the first floor to meet Pepe El Loco. George hurries. The clown and dogs are gone. MYH and the great Pepe El Loco are there.

pagliacci will cheer you up

FIN: They all take the stairs to the ninth floor. Pepe El Loco’s all-important gadget is a disassembled pogo stick with the plunger as the bouncy part. He gets to the center ring of a three-ring circus just in time to bounce around and do little flips with it.

Y’all.

Y’ALL.

The ninth floor of this ten-floor building is a cavernous bigtop the size of the dadgum Astrodome. The ceiling is made of vaulted tent-canvas.

There is no tenth floor. THERE IS NO TENTH FLOOR EVEN THOUGH I SAW GEORGE GO TO THE TENTH FLOOR AND RETRIEVE A TOILET PLUNGER FROM A CLOWN ON STILTS

but doctor I am pagliacci

[iggy-licious]

I first saw Iggy playing live in 1977 at London’s Rainbow Theatre. He came on like some kind of demented wild animal. He was bare-chested, wearing the tightest jeans I’d ever seen and a horse’s tail. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. He performed the song Turn Blue to a girl in the audience, and held her hand throughout. God, how I wished I had been that bitch. I next saw Iggy at the Factory club up in Manchester, when it was still based in the Moss Side area. There were pipes that ran all over the ceiling of this grubby club and he sang while swinging off them like a monkey. From then on, for me, it was, ‘Fuck Bowie – Iggy is God!’

--Judy Blame, fashion designer/stylist

The horse tail and the jump are both impressive. 😎

[gotmudonyou]

OCR World Championships 2018 Report

When I heard that this years OCR World Championships would be held on home soil I had conflicting emotions. On the one hand it was great that I wouldn't have to shell out a lot of money to fly abroad again but on the other hand I was worried that it wouldn't have the magic that the event village in Canada had. I guess not having jet-lag would also be a plus.

Lets rewind to last year though. In Canada I had lost my band on the 3K and kept it for the 15k and team races. Analysing my performance it was clear that my obstacle game had to improve. Why had I lost my band at the rig in the 3k? Inexperience in a major race and specifically on rigs was clearly a big factor. But my mental game was clearly at fault as well. When running at full pelt on a short and fast course I was blowing too hard to be focussed coming into a technical obstacle. I also knew that although I had kept my band on the 15k I could have pushed harder during the race (although had I pushed harder would my obstacle game have suffered and maybe not kept my band?).

In the lead up to Canada I was on about 30-35kms of running a week. I wanted to up that so I signed up for a Marathon in April. This turned out to be a really bad idea. Reaching around 30kms in a training run I suddenly had knee pain that stopped me in my tracks. Diagnosis? Patella Tendonitis. Severely reduced mileage, strengthening exercises and a complete deconstruction and re-build of my running form. The reduced mileage was bad enough but the new way of running was tiring and made me long for the days I would just run without thinking whether I was overstriding or lifting my knees high enough.

Finally at the point of getting on top of the Patella Tendonitis I was looking forward to getting back to training hard. My body had other ideas. It saw my Patella Tendonitis and raised me ITB pain. I won’t bore you with my months of recovery but suffice to say it was not fun. My physio warned me against increasing mileage too fast as ITB issues are prone to coming back. So coming into the World Championships I had run a maximum of 11kms in one go since April. Not the best prep. 

Thankfully I had also signed up to a training programme held at the PT Barn. The Road to Worlds training programme was run by 3 fantastic coaches who each brought a differing skill set to the coaching. The course focussed on every aspect of OCR training that a racer needs to be successful in OCR. This included specific obstacle technique, skills and strength analysis, race preparation and race strategy. It taught me how to asses a race down to the finest detail. It also helped me to identify mental traps that had hampered my racing in the past. So whilst my race endurance was nowhere near where I had wanted it to be, my obstacle strength and performance as well as my mental game were better than ever. On the advice of the coaches I had also added an OCR Specific workout to my weekly regime, my hope was that this specific training would partially offset my lack of mileage. I have to admit I got some funny looks from the neighbours running out of my garden every 10 mins and doing a lap of the area with a sandbag on my shoulders! So...back to this year’s race....

This year’s race was held on the permanent site of the award winning Nuclear Races. The course was billed as packing in 100 obstacles over 15kms. 

Ok so it wasn't really 100 obstacles. 6 of them were a continuous wreckbag  carry and many obstacles listed were logs, trenches or streams. In any case, this was going to be very different from last year’s race which was up and down a ski slope with not much mud and no water obstacles. This race was going to be pretty flat with lots of mud and a fair amount of water including a full submersion.

3km Short Course

Due to my lack of mileage in training all year I knew that there was no way I would be able to keep up a decent pace for the 15km course so decided the 3km was many target race. The plan was to go all out and I said to myself if I didn’t cross the line exhausted then I hadn’t gone hard enough. I’d ‘pre-rigged’ the course the day before so I knew all the obstacles and had decided on my techniques through the rigs. I’d decided which attachments to use and which to miss out. This is something that the Road to Worlds course stressed. Just because an attachment (such as a ball, nunchuck or rope) is there it doesnt mean you have to use it. I saw so many racers out there using small and tricky attachments on a rig just because they thought they should.

Stood on the start line they had replaced Coach Pain with the MC from the UK Spartan series, Spartan Phil. Ok so he’d replaced his spartan helmet with a cap so I guess he was just regular Phil. As much as I’d loved  Coach Pain’s rousing start line speeches it was probably wise to use a more UK friendly style for this race.

The MC counted down..3....2...1....GO!! As it was a short course the pack went off at a fast pace. We were straight into some ditches which immediately got my heart rate through the roof. Next it was a crawl under barbed wire and then into a Wreckbag (sandbag) carry and then a crawl with the sandbag. This was a crazy way to start a race and didn’t allow you to settle into any kind of pace. I was thankful that I’d done a decent warm up so I felt able to push on. Then it was straight into 3 rigs back to back. First up was the platinum rig. Having done my prep I knew that I wanted to miss out a few attachments which made it a simple rig of rings and monkey bars. My heart rate was high which might have made me rush things in the past, but not now. I flew through but with barely 30 seconds of running I was at the next rig. This rig, named Varjagen Saga had been brought over by Strong Viking, a European race series. It consisted of 3 parts each with various things to hang and swing from. Through my prep I knew the technique to use for each section and flew through to hit the bell.

Varjagen Saga

With hardly any time to regain my breath I was hit with another grip strength sapping rig. The Force 5 Rig was something I’d never seen before in person. However having watched videos of the North American Championships I had a feel for how to approach the rig. All of the attachments swung from front to back, which made it easier to reach the next attachment. This rig was also housed by part of the huge event tent (it was massive!) which was cool and meant there were loads of spectators cheering on the racers. Surprisingly I got through it first time.

After a couple of jumping type obstacles I approach the Ninja Rings. This was a traverse where you had to get to the other side using plastic rings that you held in your hands and moved from bar to bar. I’d been practicing this on my home rig for months so I was ready and flew across.

After this followed some squats under bars whilst carrying a log, a quarter pipe and another hanging obstacle called Trapeze. I then arrived at a new obstacle called Skitch. The aim was to traverse to the end of a hanging bar using hooks that you held in each hand. The tricky part was that you had to lift both hooks across a chain attached to the middle of the bar. This was a difficult obstacle and many struggled (even some pros). As part of my training I had some hooks fabricated for me and I mocked up a version and practiced at home. This paid off as I nailed it first time.

Skitch

Now I just had 3 obstacles to go! First up was a bomb carry, which was exactly what you think is. A metal bomb that you had to carry in your arms but not on your shoulders. The bomb had a moving weight inside so if you carried it at an angle all the weight shifted to one side. This obstacle in itself was fine but it tired your arms and grip out enough to make the penultimate obstacle that much harder.

The penultimate obstacle was the wonderfully named Skull Valley. I’d conquered this obstacle in Canada so was confident I could do so again. Thankfully I had just enough grip left to get through.

Skull Valley

The final obstacle was a giant slip wall to get over. Thankfully the ropes were a little lower than in Canada so this was no problem (it got tougher on subsequent days due to the mud).

Crossing the line in 65th place out of 202 in my age group I was in the top 32%. I was happy with my obstacle performance and effort. Band kept, but this was just race 1 of 3.....

15km Standard Course

The 15km race was going to be a different beast. As I said, I hadn’t run more than 11kms since April so a tough 15kms Obstacle race was going to be a test of my fitness. The race set off at a less frantic pace and after the ditches we were treated to a nice long Wreckbag carry through the forest. The carry involved ducking under and going over beams. Being short means ducking under beams was nice and easy but going over them not so much!

Wreckbag Carry

After another carry and some other minor obstacles I hit the Nuclear monkey bars, thankfully just the short section. After this came possibly the worst part, around 5 sets of cargo nets to crawl under. I hated these, they were quite tight and you had to crawl on your hands and knees. I’m pretty sure this was responsible for the scrape on my knee.

About 5kms in and after a zip line we got into some proper mud. I mean the kind of mud you have to crawl through. Thankfully I then got completely soaked by the deathslide which cleaned the mud off. Whilst obstacles such as zip lines and deathslides are fun I’m not sure they have a place in a World Championship race. Saying that many racers I ran past told me they loved the zip line. So what do I know.

I was looking forward to the low rig having trained specifically for this type of obstacle. So I was a bit disappointed to find it was simply two bars with a ring in between. Boring! Oh well. Shortly after this came Stairway to Heaven, an A frame with horizontal planks which you had to climb and ascend on the inside with only your arms. This was only the third time I’d ever attempted this obstacle. The first time was Canada last year and the second at a Road to Worlds training session. It was at this point that I caught up with my wife Jo who had set off in the wave before me. After a quick hug and checking how she was getting on I quickly ascended and descended the stairway without much thought (I think you can overthink this one easily). I found out later that Jo managed to get to the top of Stairway but was unable to make the transition. This was the furthest she had ever got on this obstacle so she was really happy with her progress.

The race used a lot of the permanent obstacles on the Nuclear site but added a number of World Championships specific obstacles as well as obstacles from other races. After a section of Nuclear obstacles I was back in the event village and the gauntlet of rigs. The Platinum rig had been changed up from the previous day and was marginally more complex. Yet again though there were attachments that I had no intention of touching. It now started with 2 rings followed by a T-bar. There was no way of skipping the T-bar so I decided to grab it with a couple of fingers either side and effectively treat it as a ring. A rope, some monkey bars and a couple of rings and I was through. I sailed through Varjagen Saga again and was actually starting to enjoy the flow of this obstacle. It was then on to the Force 5 rig. Although I’d smashed this obstacle the day before I was getting tired. I wasn’t focussed and therefore fell off the middle wheel and had to go back to the retry lane. I knew my grip was still ok so decided to take 5 minutes and regain my focus. I took the time to clean the mud off my hands and managed to fly through. Phew!

Weaver & Force 5 Rig

After this it was back into the forest and a rope traverse over water. Now I hadn’t seen a rope traverse in a race since the UK Championships back in 2016. For some reason I had a feeling we’d see one so I’d been down to Mad Mike’s, my local training centre, to practice. Theres also no better impetus to hold on than the threat of dropping into cold water. So hold on I did.

With around 4kms left I could feel my lack of mileage in training starting to tell. I was slowing and could feel my legs tiring. I took in another gel and pushed on.

Bomb Carry

Nailing Skitch and battling through the bomb carry I was faced with Skull Valley for the second time in 2 days. Having had no problem with this on the 3K I was surprised to feel my grip failing before the second set of skulls. As I reached for the first skull my hand slipped. For a moment I felt doubt creeping in. I’d trained my grip endurance and to feel weakness was disheartening. But I reckoned that I just needed a quick rest to let me recover. When I slipped off I also ripped some skin off my hand. This was bad news as I now had a red raw section of skin where I would need to hold the skulls. Arse. But wait...ripped hands were always going to be potential risk at such an obstacle heavy course. If only I had put something in my pocket for such an eventuality. As my coach Scotty PT says, ‘fail to prepare and prepare to fail’. I’d prepared for every other element so of course I was ready! I’d thankfully packed some WOD & Done hand protectors. These are sticky strips that go over your fingers and protect your palms. I carefully applied the strip to my right hand and took some deep breaths. Arriving at Skull Valley I’d met Team UK honorary captain Stuart Neail and he was having to retry as well. We were both taking our time and ensuring we were recovered enough before taking a second go. This was an obstacle that most racers could probably complete when fresh but after 15kms and 100 (ish) obstacles it suddenly felt a lot harder. Seeing Stuart get through I knew it was my time. It was now or never. I flew through the first set of skulls and onto the swinging monkey bars. The tricky bit is the transition from the monkey bars back up to the second set of skulls. Thankfully I nailed that and as soon as I started swinging I could feel that the rest had the desired effect as my grip felt solid yet again. I was so happy to hit that bell!

The final obstacle was again the slip wall. This time things were made a bit harder by mud caking the wall and ropes. Scrambling over the top and running over the finish line I was thrilled to have kept my band again. I definitely had to work for it towards the end of the race.

Team Race

I ran the team race with 2 fellow Road 2 Worlds members, Leanne and Claire. Like last year the team event was divided into 3 sections, Speed, Strength and Technical. However this year the sections were much more even in the length of the sections plus there were some team obstacles that we had to complete together. I was on technical again although I was feeling pretty beat up by now as the 15k had taken it out of me. Before the race I realised I wasn’t at all focussed so a I was hoping a coffee and a caffeine gel would wake me up.

I didn’t really do much of a warm up as I was standing around for nearly an hour waiting for my team mates to complete their legs. Finally I saw Leanne coming up the hill and after completing her last carry she handed over to me and I was straight into the Platinum rig. My arms being tired from 2 days of racing I made sure to go two handed on rings when possible and make sure I landed each hand where it needed to be. I could hear coach Tony Leary shouting ‘make it safe Fabian, make it safe!’. It was then straight into Varjagen Saga and again I sailed through this obstacle.

It was then on to the Force 5 rig. I lost concentration at the last moment and doing an Appleton (sorry James) I missed the bell by millimetres. Back to the retry lane for me. Fatigue was definitely the main reason that I missed the bell but I think I let the initial failure the day before get in my head a bit. After a few minutes of recovery and some encouragement from another Road to Worlds member Jonathan I had a second attempt and nailed it.

It was then on to the Dragon’s back, Ninja Rings and Weaver. The final obstacle of my technical leg was Skitch. Noticing that my WOD & Done hand protectors weren’t that grippy against metal I tore most of them off to ensure I had the best grip. My grip was fine thankfully and I hit the bell and ran down to tag my team mates for the final section of the race. I have to say that by this point my arms were burning!

The final section included 3 team obstacles. The first was transporting 2 atlas stones on a metal gurney. Leanne and Claire carried the gurney whilst I steadied the stones and ensured they didn’t fall off.

Next was a rope climb over a metal A frame. We all had to go over the same rope but could help each other. Claire wasn’t keen on this at being afraid of heights. Leanne waited at the top in case she needed help but Claire was amazing, faced her fears and conquered the obstacle.

It was then on to the final Slip Wall. This time there were no ropes! We had a plan which was to form a human ladder. I went at the bottom, Leanne climbed on my shoulders and Claire then climbed up both of us to the top. Claire then helped pull Leanne up. Leanne then hung down whilst I ran up and grabbed her leg to reach the rope. We were over! Crossing the finish line with your team is an awesome feeling and we were all buzzing after the race.

So 3 races and 3 bands kept. That’s one more than last year so I guess that’s progress. I had hoped to be a bit more competitive this year but that wasn’t to be. I was really happy with my performance on the 3k and I reckon if I can get back to the kind of mileage I was at last year coupled with the functional OCR workouts I’ve been doing this year I can get a lot quicker. My obstacle game is streets ahead of where it was last year as is my grip endurance. So speed and running endurance is my focus now.

So as I said I was concerned that having the Championships in the UK it wouldn’t match the heights of Canada. I really shouldn’t have worried. The race village was great and from a spectator point of view there were a lot of obstalces to view. I thought the course was well designed and challenging. Yes there was more mud than some competitors were comfortable with but this was a good representation of what UK OCR is about. We were also ridiculously lucky with the weather. It was around 16ºC for the first 2 days and by the Sunday I was lying around in a t-shirt with a high of 20ºC! Madness for October. A week later it dropped to 5ºC so we were very lucky. Also had it rained instead of hanging around spectators would have had to huddle under the tent or go back to their hotels. But it didn’t rain, so it was glorious.

Special mention needs to go to Tom Nash, Stuart Neail and the many others who have worked to make Team UK a unified team. Having the team kitted out in Team UK racing tops, jackets and shorts was a wonderful sight and made it easy to support our fellow countrymen on the course. I have to say that the support for Team UK out on the course was amazing. Not only that but the support I received from fellow Road to Worlds members was incredible. Hardly 10 mins would go by without hearing a ‘Go Team UK’ or ‘Go on Fabian!’ It was wonderful and nearly made me a bit emotional at one point. No crying for me this year though. Just lots of smiles. What a weekend! 🇬🇧

Oh I also took loads of photos over the weekend, feel free to check them out here!

[thecaptainsdesk]

Since the world saw Angelina Jolie swinging through the ruined temples of Cambodia as Lara Croft, the country has been crawling with tourists eager to get a better look at the places made famous by the film. In recent years, Siem Reap, a town that is close to a huge complex of ancient Buddhist and Hindu temples, is now a major tourist destination, with more than 120 hotels, from basic hostel to Ultra-DeLuxe. While there may be small pockets of opulence such as this, the majority of the country is still poor, and visitors to Cambodia should get out to see the reality of this beautiful country.

After several decades of civil war, and the genocide brought about by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, Cambodia’s modern, violent history is fresh in the minds of the world. However, with the introduction of a new regime of democracy, the nation sits on the verge of a new revolution – as a popular travel destination. And this is mainly due to the jungle-covered ruins of Angkor Wat, and other places just like it. The ancient capital of the old Khmer Empire is also the world’s largest, single religious monument, and is one of only a handful of temples that have been uncovered in the dense jungle landscape. Hundreds of other beautiful, ancient temples and pagodas exist, buried under the growth of tropical jungle, and sometimes used as backdrops for major Hollywood blockbusters.

Over the years I have found myself in Cambodia on several occasions, both as soldier and tourist. The first time I went there was with the military as part of the UN resolution on foreign aid, to protect UN aid workers who were helping to get the country back on its feet. Unfortunately, I spent more time watching the jungle for former Khmer Rouge activists than watching the famous sites I have mentioned here, although in Phnom Penh I got to spend time around the city and explore a little. Thankfully, the horrors of the past are long gone, and the Khmer Rouge we encountered there no longer cause trouble.  Cambodia has come a long way since the days of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, and although it is not perfect, it’s a lot safer for tourists now.

From the ruins of Angkor Wat to the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, you can really immerse yourself in the rich, yet violent history of Cambodia. Whether you are following in the footsteps of adventurers, or enjoying freshly baked bread in one of the delightful cafes of Siem Reap, it is almost impossible not to be affected by the stories of Cambodia. Tales of glory and of ruin, tragedy and joy, all are etched into the deathly silence of the stones, and shines from the friendly faces of the Khmer people. Wherever you travel in this once-devastated land, Cambodia is a country that leaves an unforgettable, indelible impression.

Top Spots for Tourists in Cambodia

Sunrise at Angkor Wat

In Siem Reap, lies the ancient temple of Angkor Wat. Probably the most famous of all places in the country, people show up in their thousands to watch the sunrise at 5:30am. While many people crowd the walkways, jostling for the best shot, if you get off the main walkway and sit on the steps of the outpost buildings, you are almost guaranteed a better view, with less people. Built over the course of more than thirty years, Angkor Wat was the 12th century home of King Suryavarman II after he died.

Completely buried by jungle until it was discovered by French colonists in the 1800’s, what they uncovered is now considered as one of the Wonders of the World. The well-preserved temple has numerous bas-relief walls that depict the many levels of heaven and hell, some of which are quite gruesome, as well as more than 1,800 seductive Dancing Maidens carvings. The temple is surrounded by a huge rectangular lake, and rises up on three terraces to the central shrine and tower. The temple reflects the traditional Khmer design of the “temple mountain” which is a representation of Mount Meru, the home of the gods in Hinduism.

Angkor Thom

Locally mispronounced as “Uncle Tom”, this temple has not been restored in the way Angkor Wat has, though it has several interesting features. The main feature of the temple is the entrance bridge, which is flanked by 54 stone-carved warriors who appear to be playing a tug-of-war game with the sacred Naga Snake. Many of the warriors’ heads are missing, stolen by looters after the war in Vietnam, some of which have been recovered and are now in museums across the U.S. The bas-reliefs here are mainly of people playing chess, cooking, and having babies, and one even depicts two monkeys performing sexual acts, known locally as the “Monkey 69”.

Ta Prohm

The temple that was used in the Tomb Raider film, this ancient place was left completely undisturbed by restoration teams, and is still full of crumbling walls intertwined with thick tree roots. It was left as it was found, to allow tourists to see the state in which many of the temples in the area were discovered.

Artisan’s Angkor

Artisan’s Angkor is a trade school for disadvantaged Cambodians in Siem Reap, where the students make all kinds of local handicrafts, which fly off the shelves of the colorful school store as fast as they can make them. The school makes everything from silver-plated ornamental boxes to vividly colored scarves made of local silk, and it is all of high quality.

Downtown Siem Reap

Take a Tuk-Tuk to Downtown Siem Reap; This nimble mode of transportation – essentially a 4 person carriage pulled by motorcycle – congests every alley, lane and road in Siem Reap. It takes just a few minutes (and about $2) to get to…..

Pub Street and Siem Reap Night Market

This area of Downtown Siem Reap has a nighttime vibe that is comparable to that of New Orleans at Mardi Gras. There are dozens of restaurants selling all kinds of food, both local and foreign, and spas where you can relax, get a massage, or try the traditional Cambodian J’Pong heat and herbal treatment. Most of the spas have pools inside where you can get a “fish pedicure”, which can be a little ticklish as the small fish eat the dead skin on your feet. The night market is full of deals on items you can find in many such markets across Asia, but a little searching can be rewarded with some excellent finds.

Tonlé Sap

Tonlé Sap is the largest freshwater lake in Cambodia and South East Asia, and is of major importance to the country. The lake is subject to the changes of the seasons, and shrinks or expands depending on the monsoon rains. Dry season in Cambodia is from November to May, and the lake drains into the Mekong River at Phnom Penh. In the monsoon season, the lake changes direction, and fills with water to make an enormous lake that is the home to numerous Vietnamese and Cham communities that live in floating villages around the lake.

Preah Vihear

Preah Vihear is a striking Khmer temple, dramatically set on a 1,722-foot cliff in the Dângrêk Mountains. The views from the top expand over lowland Cambodia, with the peak of Phnom Kulen watching silently in the distance. Spread over more than 2,000 feet, the temple’s five Gopuras are comprised of four levels and four courtyards, all of which are decorated with intricate carvings. Constructed mainly between the 11th and 12th centuries, the temple was dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. Set on the border between Cambodia and Thailand, ongoing territorial disputes between the two countries have closed access to the temple from the Thai entrance.

Banteay Srei

Although officially part of the Angkor complex, Banteay Srei lies 25 km (15 miles) north-east of the main group of temples, and therefore often considered a separate Cambodia attraction. The temple was completed in 967 AD and is built largely of red sandstone, a medium that lends itself to the elaborate decorative wall carvings which are still clearly visible today. Banteay Srei is the only major temple at Angkor not built for a king, instead it was constructed by one of king Rajendravarman’s counselors, Yajnyavahara.

Mondulkiri

Mondulkiri is a wild, sparsely populated area of Cambodia, dotted with rolling hills, jungles, waterfalls, and valleys. The region is home to some of the country’s most rare and endangered wildlife, including leopards, water buffalo, and elephants. Almost half of Mondulkiri’s population belongs to the Bunong minority group, who hunt for most of their food. It’s a fantastic region for visiting traditional villages and interacting with elephants in their natural habitat. The cool climate, stunning scenery and wildlife-viewing opportunities make it a perfect area for trekking and hiking.

Popokvil Waterfall

Set in Bokor National Park, Popokvil Waterfall is a stunning two-tiered waterfall, which looks particularly gorgeous during the rainy season. Although the appearance of the surrounding rainforest has been somewhat marred by the construction of a huge casino on the hill summit, the area is still quite pretty. The waterfall takes its name from an expression meaning ‘swirling clouds’, perhaps due to the ever-present mist that surrounds it. It’s a great place to stop for a refreshing swim and, if you’re lucky, catch a glimpse of the endangered animals that live in the area, such as the pig-tailed macaque and the Malayan sun bear.

  Koh Ker

Formerly the capital of the Khmer Empire from 928 to 944 AD, the site has some spectacular buildings and immense sculptures, and is dominated by the 30-meter-tall temple mountain of Prasat Thom. Rising high above the surrounding jungle, the temple is topped by a giant Garuda (a mythical half-man, half-bird creature). Abandoned and left to the jungle for almost a thousand years, the temple can be likened more to ancient Mayan ruins than typical Khmer architecture, and the encroachment of the jungle and its wildlife on Koh Ker only adds to the site’s sense of mystery.

Drive Route 6 to Phnom Penh

The largest city in Cambodia, Phnom Penh has been the country’s capital since the French colonial era. Once called the “Pearl of Asia”, it is considered to be one of the prettiest cities in Indo-China, though it is still recovering from wars and revolutions. Sitting on the Mekong River, the city dates back to the 15th century, and the French influence can still be seen in the architecture of the city. From the glittering Royal Palace and crowded night markets to the sophisticated restaurants and bars, Phnom Penh’s beauty is complex, and realized slowly by visitors as they tour the city.

Eat A Spider (or watch someone else do it)

There’s a stop along Route 6 Cambodia that features platters of fried tarantulas, crickets and birds. There are also bananas and mangos for the non insect eater. Believe it or not, spiders actually taste nice. If you have ever eaten crickets or deep fried locusts (I remember when that was a phase in the north of England in the late ’80s), then it is not much different. Trying new foods is all part of the charm of a new country. Just go for it!

Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum

15 kilometers from Phnom Penh, the Killing Fields is a monument like no other in the world. The monument is filled with bones and skulls from one of the hundreds of killing fields across the country. The Cambodian government decided to leave majority of these mass graves alone and undisturbed, making this one both a monumental cemetery and a hallowed ground.

Nearby is the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which was once a peaceful high school and now is a memorial to those who died there. Between 1975 and 1979, the school became a torture and interrogation center for the Khmer Rouge, from which very few survived. Doctors, professors, clergymen, and other high-value professionals were rounded up and chained, electrocuted, dismembered, or beaten to death at the order of Cambodian dictator, Pol Pot. Those who survived the torture were taken out to the Killing Fields, and executed. While it is a hard place to visit, like many other Holocaust Museums, it is there to remind people of the horrors of dictatorship, and make sure it can never happen again.

You can probably put together a whole trip based on this list, although if you travel to Cambodia to do all of these, it may take you several weeks. Go there, and enjoy this beautiful land as it recovers from the decades of war and hardship. For pretty soon, it will be as popular and tourist-oriented as places like Thailand, Bali, and Boracay!

  The Most Memorable Attractions In Cambodia Since the world saw Angelina Jolie swinging through the ruined temples of Cambodia as Lara Croft, the country has been crawling with tourists eager to get a better look at the places made famous by the film.

[houstonlocalus-blog]

Pixies Serve Fans Well With Houston Performance

Pixies. Photo: Daniel Jackson

  I wouldn’t want to be a band many regard as revolutionary that reunited for a bunch of fans that seemed to only want to hear “the hits.” I say that because Boston indie rock group Pixies seem to get a lot of flack for making new albums. It’s pretty dumb to think that the band would ever make Surfer Rosa again, or that they’d want to continue touring the songs of Doolittle for the next twenty years. I can’t lie, I’m a Pixies fan through and through and I could go the rest of my life without hearing “Monkey Gone To Heaven” live. On their last two albums, Indie Cindy and last year’s Head Carrier, the band dropped two pretty solid records while “fans” complained about everything from the fact that Kim Deal is gone to seemingly invalid complaints about the last two albums. However, in spite of that, the four-piece that inspired Nirvana and Radiohead made their way over to the lawn at White Oak Music Hall on Sunday to give those in attendance a show they’d never forget.  What we received was a band that can still perform admirably while mixing in fan favorites alongside new tracks better than they did twenty years ago.

  Black Francis of Pixies. Photo: Daniel Jackson

  It should be noted that there was plenty of “fan servicing” done with this set. There’s nothing wrong with that, as the band sounds stellar from the beginning to the end, and while there was literally no stage banter from the band, no one around me seemed to mind. Opening with “Cactus,” the group then launched into two oddly chosen slow tracks “All the Saints” from their latest album Head Carrier and then the instrumental “Ana” from Bossanova. They would then go deep into fan favorites like “Here Comes Your Man,” “Vamos,” and “Nimrod’s Son.” The audience had cameras on their cellphones rolling along until the band broke out the best live version of “Winterlong” I’ve heard in the five times I’ve caught them. The addition of Paz Lenchantin really gave the track a fresh new voice and honestly sounded better than it did when I saw the original lineup perform it in the ’90s.  

  Black Francis of Pixies. Photo: Mars Forse Walker

  They would follow up with “Gouge Away” before playing another newer song, “Oona,” where it was lovely to hear another new song added to the mix of the set. This was followed by Lenchantin’s lead vocals of “All I Think About Now” before the band found themselves back in the past performing the raucous “Debaser” from Doolittle. The set would continue like this with another new song, “Bel Esprit,” only to be followed by another favorite, “Wave of Mutilation.” The band seemed to really just truck through the songs without much emotion, but they’ve never really been the group to do that. In fact, I can’t remember ever seeing a Pixies set where the band addressed the crowd much at all. “Talent” off of Head Carrier would get very little response from the crowd who seemed to get as excited as imaginable when “Monkey Gone to Heaven” kicked off. One of my new favorites, “Classic Masher,” sounded pretty fantastic out on the lawn at White Oak. Hearing the new tracks sprinkled in was a nice touch before they played “Velouria” and “Havalina,” before switching gears to perform “Mr Grieves.”  

  Joey Santiago of Pixies. Photo: Mars Forse Walker

  Adding another favorite of mine, “Indie Cindy,” it felt like the band, who is said to be playing without a set list, was really just trying to keep things interesting for everyone, including themselves.  The crowd erupted into a frenzy when they played “Where Is My Mind” before looking shocked when that was followed with “Caribou” and “U-Mass.” It should certainly be noted that this version of the Trompe Le Monde classic sounded the best it’s sounded live in years. While it may be presumptuous to say that there were many “casual” fans in attendance, this was proven further that only about half of the audience seemed to know the words to “Hey,” and “No. 13 Baby,” and they didn’t seem to be back onboard until the band closed out their set with “Bone Machine.”

  The band took center stage and collectively bowed to the audience before performing one last song, the B-side and fan favorite “Into The White,” sung admirably and beautifully by Lenchantin. The overall set was notably epic as far as Pixies sets go. The band played songs, both new and old, on the lawn at White Oak to casual and diehard fans, all the while reminding us that they’re still going strong.

Pixies Serve Fans Well With Houston Performance this is a repost