#i shifted my brothers things from one hostel to another and went up and down on stairs

[sufiblackmamba]

Now I know why my legs are hurting...

[flameo-hotman]

16

You have orde adoption number 16! This is the one where the Kyoshi Warriors adopt Zuko. Also, there is a battle where Zuko and Suki kill some pirates. So you have been warned.

Boom!

There was a ball of fire far out at sea, that Suki watched reaching up towards the heavens, where sky bison use to fly. Not that she had ever seen the sky bison. But Senchi, her adoptive mother, always started her stories about the old days and Kyoshi with the sky bison.

“Suki, go alert the warriors. That was a Fire Navy ship, once the Earth Navy ship leaves, I want to send out a party to scavenge what we can from the sunk Fire Navy ship.”

Senchi was still watching the open water with the spyglass when Suki had returned.

“The warriors are ready to head out, at your order, Mom.”

Her mom watched the ocean for a moment longer, before she turned and gave Suki a brief nod, and gestured for her to follow her down to the docks.

“Can I go with you and the senior warriors?” Suki asked.

Senchi glanced at her for a moment before smiling and answering, “Yes, it’s just a scavenging mission, so there won’t be any hostels.”

Suki pushed the need to prove herself, wanting her mom to know she could handle herself in a battle and focused on the fact she was actually being allowed on an off-island mission for once. Her mother, Senchi’s best friend and fiance, had died during a battle with pirates, so Suki knew why her mom didn’t want her to be in a battle. But one day Suki would take over as the leader of the warriors, so she would need to prove herself before then.

It wasn’t often that they went scavenging, as the island provided for all of their needs, but everything helped to keep their people comfortable.

And then they found the boy.

He was half-conscious and clinging to what looked like it once was part of a pai sho table, shivering in the freezing water. And for a brief moment, Suki wondered where the kid’s shirt was until he locked eyes on her and growled literal fire at her.

Morning mediations then. Senchi had told her stories of Rangi, so she understood that fire benders started their mornings basking in Agni’s light before starting their days.

“You here to finish the job?” He snapped, readjusting his grip on the pai sho table, his eyes glancing down at his hands until they had a grip on the slick surface again.

Senchi, gestured for the warriors to bring their boat closer to the table and asked, “Did you attack the Earth Kingdom ship?”

“Yes.”

Suki was surprised by his honesty.

“Why?” Her mom asked, hand creeping towards the rope, she’d brought with just in case one of the warriors went overboard.

The boy, he was about Suki’s age, answered, “They had the faster ship. Retreat wasn’t an option. Besides, I would rather die an honorable death and not die a coward’s death.”

Senchi threw the boy the rope, which he looked at warry for a few moments before he lost his grip on the table and splashed his way over to it deciding apparently that he didn’t want to drownd in the wreckage of his ship.

They pulled him into their boat, and he was promptly handed a blanket, as the warriors began to search the wreckage for anything worth saving.

“I’m Suki.”

“Zuko.”

He was quiet as they fished different supplies out of the water until suddenly he spotted something. Chucking the blanket to the side, he handed Suki one end of the rope that had been used to pull him into the boat, grabbed the other, and leaped into the water.

“What are you doing?” Suki called out, as he swam towards a cluster of debris.

Zuko didn’t answer, shifting through the rubble, until a floating trunk came into view. Suki suddenly understood. It must be Zuko’s things.

Senchi watched, as the two of them worked together to retrieve the trunk, and when Zuko had tied the roped to the trunk, he swam his way back to their boat and helped Suki pull the trunk over and in.

Then he opened it and Suki was confused once more.

“A theatre mask and some scrolls?”

Zuko looked elated, as he sorted through the scrolls and they turned out to have somehow stayed dry.

But when he caught her disbelief, he scowled at her. She had to admit that the scar made him look a little bit intimidating, but she could sense she’d misstepped.

“They use to belong to my mom,” He snarked back, before leaping back into the ocean.

Suki didn’t question it this time, and a few moments later, he was wrestling something out of a sinking pile of twisted metal.

This time it was a set of dao swords.

“These are mine. I made them.”

Suki perched up at that.

“You know how to make swords?”

Zuko raised his singular eyebrow and answered, “I just said that didn’t I?”

Suki glanced over at her mom, and by the look on Senchi’s face, Suki was about to have an adoptive brother.

“Ladies,” Senchi began, “Let’s grab some of the metal.”

Kyoshi Island didn’t have a blacksmith, seeing as they would have had to import most of the materials for it. Which meant when they needed new weapons or other metal items, it made more sense to import the items themselves, rather than train someone to be a blacksmith and then import metal when they needed to get new fans or swords.

With Zuko and the metal from his ship though…

Suki decided she liked watching Zuko forge something new out of the salvaged metal. Though the sight of him sticking his bare hand into the fire and pulling the turtleduck sculpture out, was more than a little alarming the first time.

“Up to a certain point, fire benders are fireproof,” Was Zuko’s horrifying answer.

He said it with the left side of his face turned towards her. His scar on full display.

That had been done to him intentionally.

When she went home at the end of the day, she set the little metal Kyoshi on the same shelf as her mother’s fans.

Senchi was the one to catch Zuko watching them train.

After a discussion with the senior warriors, they let him join for one session and then two and then three, and then he was at every training session.

It wasn’t long before Senchi adopted Zuko officially, and Suki officially had a brother.

Zuko seemed happy living with them. He revealed in being a Kyoshi Warrior and took great care in repairing and making fans for them. He was thriving.

And then the pirates came back.

Though of all times to attack, attacking while the warriors were training and at their most prepared had to be the most convenient time for being attacked.

“Suki, you lead the junior warriors. Guard the entrance to the village. I’ll take the senior warriors and head them off at the beach. If any of them make it past us, end them.”

And then Senchi was headed for the shore and the older and more experienced warriors.

The chance that any of the pirates reached the village was low, but Suki wanted to be prepared anyways. So after ordering her warriors to hide in the trees to catch any pirates off guard, she and Zuko crept through the undergrowth.

If any of the pirates did manage to sneak past the senior warriors, Suki wanted to give her girls the heads up.

About fifteen minutes later they heard a branch snap.

A group of three pirates was attempting to sneak through the woods towards the village.

 Suki noticed Zuko shifting to send a signal shot up for their warriors back towards the village, and she stopped him.

 “We need to make sure that's all of them.”

 Zuko nodded, and they silently passed the pirates, heading closer to the coast, but they only found one more pirate.

 Suki dropped from the tree and cracked him across the head, with her sword and the man dropped to the ground with a thud. She nodded back up at Zuko, and he shot off three blasts of fire before they started picking their way back up the path to the village.

 When they got back to the other junior warriors, the other three pirates had already been dealt with.

 “Zuko, take the spyglass and check the beach. I want to know how the senior warriors are fairing,” She ordered, gesturing for Lin to go get the item. And when Lin was back with the spyglass, Zuko darted up the lookout toward near the entrance to the village, stopping halfway up and looking out at the beach for a few moments.

 “There's a second ship pulling into the cove!” He shouted down, before tossing the spyglass down to Lin and then leaping down once the girl had cleared the base.

 “Shit...” Suki muttered before she looked over her warriors.

 Zuko watched her carefully as he asked, “What are your orders?”

 Senchi had told her and the junior warriors to stay near the village, but... She was going to get grounded for this but there was only one answer.

 Suki stood firm and shouted, “Lin, Pima, Junji, you're with us. The rest of you stay here and protect the village.”

 And then she took off into the woods racing for the shore.

 They arrived just as the second set of pirates were hitting the shore.

 The pirates looked shocked when her team rushed out from the treeline, and a few of them began retreating to their ships. Clearly, keeping the junior warriors a secret had been a good idea, but if any of those men got away they would lose that advantage in future raids.

 She lost herself in the battle, her training taking over.

 Dodge, kick, slash, plan.

 While she and the warriors fought, Zuko worked to burn the boats, so the pirates wouldn't be able to retreat. Once he'd done that, he joined the battle in full as well.

 Suki backed the pirate she was fighting up so he was in the range of Zuko's attacks, and when her brother realized what she was doing, he twisted and using the momentum of the movement, cracked the heel of his boot against the pirate's head.

 The man dropped and turned the sand beneath him red.

 “Behind you!” Zuko shouted, and Suki spun around with her fans slicing them across another pirate's throat. A spray of blood hitting her in the face. But she didn't stop, pushing past the man as he slipped to the ground with a death gurgle, and went after the next pirate.

 And the next one and the next one and the next one, until finally there were no more pirates and the battle was over.

 Senchi walked over to her and was silent for a moment before she clasped Suki's shoulders and declared, “You made the right call. Now go get cleaned up. I want a full debrief when I get back to the training hut.”

 Suki sighed in relief, and gestured for her warriors to return to the village, but then her mom stopped her and said, “Your mother would be proud of you, Suki.”

 And then Senchi was shouting orders at the senior warriors, but when Zuko tried to follow with Suki back to the village, Senchi shouted, “Zuko, I need you to stay back. We need your help getting rid of the bodies.”

 Zuko went still.

 “Zuko is one of my warriors,” Suki refuted. “He is coming back to the village with me.”

 “We need to burn the-” Senchi started, but then she looked over at Zuko and his stillness.

 There was a moment of silence, and then their mom nodded and relented, “You're right. Take him with you, Suki.”

 Zuko unfroze and followed after Suki.

 “Thank you.”

“Don't worry about it.”

 Zuko smiled awkwardly but didn't say anything more until they were about halfway to the village.

 “It was my father.”

 Suki stopped and looked at her brother, and asked, “What?”

 “He was the one who... I spoke out of turn, so he challenged me to an Agni Kai,” Zuko explained. “But I refused when I realized he was the one I was going to be fighting. So he burned me.”

 “That's horrible,” Suki replied in horror. “Is that why you ran away?”

 “No...” Zuko answered as he urged her to keep walking. “No, I didn't run away. I was banished. He sent me to go find and capture the Avatar. My uncle tried to come with me, but Father wouldn't let him. He said that I had dishonored my country, so I was unworthy of aid beyond that which he would provide.”

 “He sounds like a monster,” Suki spat, hating anyone who would hurt her brother.

 But what her brother said next... Well, it took a moment to process.

 “Well... He is the Fire Lord.”

 Suki was going to kill the Fire Lord.

[jaskiersvalley]

Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

[bestsongby]

New Thoughts on Old Classics:

Hotel California, by the Eagles. 1976

Is it Essential? 

The Eagles (or, more specifically, Henley and Frey) were often viewed as cocaine-fueled El Lay misogynists. I think the cocaine-fueled and El Lay are indisputable, but is the misogynist tag a little unfair? Could be.

I’ve always been fascinated by Hotel California, the Eagles’ bazillion selling magnum opus, and how it plays with that perception in mind. 

Hotel California is the Eagles stretching their powers as far as the rubber band will allow before it snaps or loses its shape forever, which probably explains why their only subsequent release as an active band was the lackluster The Long Run, a collection of half-assed disco shuffles and by-the-numbers rockers. (aside from barely an Eagle Timothy B. Schmidt’s heartfelt soft rock gem “I Can’t Tell You Why,” and barely upright Eagle Joe Walsh’s catchy as fuck guitar rocker “In the City.”)

For what it’s worth, the stretched rubber band theory is one I apply to most great rock acts who spend any time working under the Album as Art theory of record making. (acknowledging that there have been many, many Not Great bands operating under this theory) The Beatles wisely realized they’d reached that point with Abbey Road, and packed it in before the slope slipped. The Stones began that climb with Beggar’s Banquet, and went from strength to strength until they reached their apex by plunging back down through the depths with Exile on Main St. The Kinks bucked the trend to some degree by releasing one pretty brilliant and one almost pretty brilliant album after their ultimate statement of intent, The Village Green Preservation Society. The Who…well, the Who never really got there. They fooled the world into believing Tommy was their Everest flag-planting, but the truth is Quadrophenia was a better album. All of which obscures the fact that the Who’s greatest album is Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy, a perfect collection of classic singles, few of which managed to tickle the U.S. charts. 

And then there are the Loves (Forever Changes) and Zombies (Odessey & Oracle), who strayed outside their comfort zones long enough to produce single discs that stand up to the greatest of the Greatest, despite neither band ever really being truly among the Greatest. (and, yes, both bands were otherwise very, very good at times)

Whew. I digress.

Let’s start with this: Is Hotel California a great album?

I’d like to say it is, but it might not even be the Eagles’ best album. I think, assuming assessing a “best” of anything Eagles-related doesn’t make your stomach clench, an argument could be made for One of These Nights (the album that immediately preceded this one – which easily wins the battle of cover art, anyway). But Hotel California is the most Eagles of Eagles albums, and stands as the best summation of their moment in the sun. And, it marks that moment when tuneful music produced by strong personalities could dominate the American pop culture landscape like no other medium.

In hindsight, Hotel California, riding shotgun with Fleetwood Mac’s equally mammoth Rumours, stands as a signpost in a pivotal moment in pop culture’s de-evolution from artist-controlled playground to complete corporate takeover. The suits always knew there was money in the music, but, holy shit, this much money?

Hotel California is an arrogant, confident, pretentious, calculated work of fiction, and you can hum along to it. It’s dominated by Don Henley, but it’s the input of the other band members that prevents it from completely collapsing under its own weight.

So, in review, let’s start with the title track, which can almost definitely be tuned in somewhere on your terrestrial radio dial at this very moment.

“Hotel California” started as a killer guitar riff by lead guitarist Don Felder. (Fittingly, Felder, who primarily kept his head down and played the shit out of his guitar throughout the Eagles’ history, eventually became estranged from the band) Once Don Henley grafted his lyrics to the music, the song became the ultimate distillation of the Eagles’ Desert Cocaine Tableau. Most of the group’s biggest hits were pretty direct, lyrically. A woman either pissed them off, or a woman was invited to lay down in the desert with them. Or sometimes the women were left behind while the band wrote their own desperado inspired mythology. But the fragmented imagery in “Hotel California” could only really make sense if the listener has a straw permanently lodged up his nose. The Witchy Woman of the past becomes the hostess of a demonic hostel where pink champagne replaces wine and pretty boys dance endlessly in sweat drenched courtyards. It seems as if the Hotel California is a place to run to and to run from, and we’re pretty sure Henley is only lamenting the “mirrors on ceiling” because all of his coke is now going to wind up on the floor.

With all of that said, the interplay between the guitars is deathless, and even vague descriptions of driving through the desert at night are enough to conjure up personal imagery for anyone confused as to what “colitas” is (are?). (The fact that the Eagles played an acoustic version of this live is either proof that they’re assholes, or that, like Eric Clapton’s tedious acoustic return to “Layla,” they just don’t quite understand the reasons for their own success – Felder trumps Henley here, and that’s that)

With that out of the way, we catch our breath and listen to the gang take it down a notch (with the help of JD Souther – the Eagles were never lacking for talented SoCal co-conspirators, starting at the beginning with Jackson Browne) with “New Kid in Town,” which, damn it, is pretty unassailable, musically. It’s got hooks for days, lush production that never swamps the tune, and a sincere, understated vocal performance from Glenn Frey, backed by great group harmonies. What? The lyrics? Well, okay. The woman is doing him wrong (in the third person, for some reason – maybe it’s not manly to admit you’re the one being cuckolded?), and she’s not living up to her end of the bargain, and…

Okay, you get the point. It’s a Henley/Frey lyric.

“Life in the Fast Lane” (It’s interesting to note the band led the album off with Hotel California’s only three single releases – all smash hits, of course) kicks in next, and we’re reminded overtly of the cocaine. It’s a great radio rocker – guitar licks weaving in and out, featuring maybe the slickest production on the album, and Henley doesn’t spare the dude in the equation this time, letting us know that both parties are feeding each other’s sinful excesses (sex and drugs). It’s a tale as old as Los Angeles, and the spoken “are you with me so far” dropped in by Henley manages to insult the listener almost by accident. (yeah, we’re with you, Don! Sex and drugs go hand-in-hand with rock and roll, brother! Revelation!)

And then we roll into “Wasted Time.” In which Henley (boy, so far, this is really a Don disc more than a Glenn disc) strains to let the poor dumb broad who left him know that she’s done nothing but fuck up her love life by fucking the wrong dudes, and, most importantly, by leaving Henley. It’s definitely this type of sentiment that allows critics to glue the MYSOGYNY label on our heroes. It never occurs to Don that this girl might have made the right choice in leaving a dude who not only plods through an orchestrated piano ballad about the terrible decisions she’s made, but backs it up with an orchestral reprise to hammer the point home. (the reprise actually originally opened side two, just to make sure you couldn’t escape the sentiment by flipping over the album – the fucking Eagles led off side two of their biggest album with an orchestral reprise. Admire their balls)

The sequencing of Hotel California comes across as pretty messy in the era of the compact disc/digital album, with the “Wasted Time(s)” dropped right smack into the middle of things, and “Life in the Fast Lane” book-ending the song(s) with the next track up…

And it’s another Henley rocker (what demons was Frey battling in 1976 that allowed him to take such a backseat to his his white ‘fro-sporting partner?), “Victim of Love.” It’s a catchy rocker about…some poor dumb broad. I hate to harp on the cocaine, but how much of it was Stevie Nicks doing to think Henley was a fun dude to party with? Anyway, this one is another radio staple, despite never being released as a single. Truthfully, all the album really needed was “Life in the Fast Lane” to remind us the boys could rock a little. But here they slowed it down a notch in case you had trouble keeping up with them the first time. 

And then, out of nowhere, we’re dropped into Joe Walsh’s melancholy reflection on life, “Pretty Maids All in a Row.” I can’t say exactly what the Eagles were thinking when they pulled Walsh into the band (”Hey – this dude makes us look sober!”), but I’d be hard-pressed to believe they anticipated his first recorded contribution would be such a beautiful, naked sentiment, punctuated not with his trademark guitar rips, but by piano and synthesizer. It’s a jarring shift in tone, helping the album achieve an eclectic vibe it was struggling to achieve with Henley dominating the proceedings, and all the more powerful for it.

Anyway, great track. And it’s followed by another great track.

Backing up “Pretty Maids” is, for my money, the best track on the album, and one of the most overlooked songs in the band’s catalog. No coincidence it’s a Randy Meisner song. “Try and Love Again” is a soaring, hopeful rocker, punctuated by Meisner’s upper register, and some truly uplifting guitar soloing. It’s a mystery why this track wasn’t released as a single, unless Henley and Frey were still annoyed that Meisner’s “Take It to the Limit” was the band’s first number one single. But it’s the one track from the album I find myself revisiting most often, without apology. It’s also worth noting that while Meisner’s lyric is treading on self-pity, he’s not blaming a chick for his problems. 

At this point we’ve wound our way through a collection of hit singles, timeless riffs, and a couple of contributions from lesser used band members that stand up to the hits. It’s hard to say there’s a definite theme at play here, although California and Los Angeles are definite players on the scene. So it’s up to Henley, again, to hammer things home with the most pretentious track in the Eagles’ entire catalog.

“The Last Resort” answers the question, “What if Randy Newman didn’t have a sense of humor?” A confused history of California (and over seven minutes long, to punctuate its importance as a statement), complete with references to the “Red Man” and Malibu and all of those bright lights that sullied the landscape, presented by a group that pretty actively moved closer and closer to the neon the further their hitmaking prowess ascended. The song starts as a literal travelogue about a girl from Providence (”The one in Rhode Island”), and then slips into a reminder that California has really succeeded at excess, which is evidently a bad thing.

In the end, it’s all the preacher’s fault, anyway. One suspects that Henley (and Frey?) realized he wasn’t really headed toward any logical conclusions with this one, and the lesson we’re left with is that the missionaries traded the Red Man’s peace of mind and started us on the path toward…well…all of that cocaine and colitas, I guess. (it is a pretty tune, though)

And that’s it. Nine songs (split into ten tracks), three hit singles, and 38 million copies sold.

Is Hotel California essential? In terms of understanding the “evolution” of pop culture, it’s an essential landing point for those curious how Los Angeles went from acoustic canyon-dwelling hippie haven to the paranoid personal driveway for limos filled with coke-addled celebrities wearing sunglasses at midnight because the lights fuck with what’s left of their peripheral vision.

But in the battle of juggernaut Los Angeles pop albums, Rumours creams Hotel California because Fleetwood Mac can be heard shutting out the world and wrestling with their relationships while coincidentally at the peak of their songwriting and performing abilities, whereas the Eagles were trying to make statements without much to state. Rumours is essential. Hotel California sounds good when you’re not paying attention too closely. 

[notinthemaps]

Healing through the Himalayas

    I was unnerved at the thought of these mountains, aging near 50 million years old, full of history and wealth. There above lies rigid peaks and soaring heights, strong waters and vivid sharp-edged granite building the homes of the wild. The comprehension of beauty is influenced by comparison, however, there’s not a damn thing on the planet deserving enough to be compared to the Himalayas. They’re alive and awake, growing every day, shaped and shifted by avalanches and tremors and growing rivers fed by melting glaciers and the snow leopards, one of the only carnivores of the Himalayas, lies present yet silent, symbolic and representative to the creator of nature. There’s something alive here, hidden in plain sight, echoing out and drawing me closer. Something I feel I can reach yet is impossible to touch. Something I so long to search for, whatever it may be. 

I reached for the benefit of the beauty of nature over the fear of the unknown. Unable to sleep, I drifted between anxious shakes and these visions of eagles gliding along the soaring heights of the mountain range, Himalayan mountain sheep grazing in herds leaping between dry bushes and through the in-betweens, I saw a blurred vision of my father. Maybe the unearthliness and historic existence measure the markings of spirit within the Himalayas. I’ve always liked to believe that there’s an existential energy out there that lies between Earth and the resting world. One that holds the past souls but prevails in the present. One that doesn’t speak a human language but communicates well. Perhaps a world we still find ourselves in. Perhaps this alerting energy that bellows in nature.

The awareness and truth of suffering, the first of buddha’s teachings lie known across the land of the Himalayas and have fallen upon my lap, left to assimilate.  

I packed his ashes into a locket and I arrived late at night in a slow, small airport. There were crowds of taxi drivers yelling across the fence. I walked, exhaustedly, as they followed the travelers and me out to the parking lot. I hopped into a jeep with a quiet older gentleman who spoke little English. Too tired to put effort into a conversation, I watched the dirt roads ahead of us full of potholes. I paid most of my attention to avoid hitting my head against the windows until I arrived at the hostel. I fell asleep quickly on the top floor that had windows wrapping around the entire building that would once allow the sun to wake me as it rose.

In the morning, I lied awaiting the rest of the city to slowly waken as I craved the chance for a warm cup of tea. I stared out the window as the sun rose above Swayambhu, a temple full of greedy monkeys, one that embodies 365 steps to achieve its beauty. While the beauty lies in every corner through Nepal, it seems we had much walking to do to reach the most beautiful parts of the country.

An eye rub and groan across the room was noticed in the corner of my eye as I watched crows fly from building to building. He greets himself, a Tibetan man, 25 years old that did not know english very well spoke with me through google translate. He welcomed me to Kathmandu and stumbled across his words as he asked if I’d like to join him for breakfast. He guided me along to a restaurant through tall buildings, often a bit lopsided and accompanying cracks. The streets were hung with prayer flags and tourist shops were opening their doors. Namaste. Namaste. Namaste as we walked down the road. When he had finally reached the restaurant, no bigger than the average American sized bathroom, built by plastic chairs and wobbly tables. I enjoyed a rice meal and some tea and a slow conversation over google translate before he headed off to work that day. He asked me what I wanted to do that day and I pointed at Swayambhu. I hopped into a taxi and began the steps up 365 stairs. I followed the monkeys, soaked in the sun above the city with my eyes closed and welcomed the vibration of prayer wheels as they were spun by tourists and locals. I was here, accompanied by reason and purpose. Time was no longer a ticking clock, but a gift on this pursuit of searching and understanding this echo that led me to Nepal. I had no intention of leaving this place quickly. Many know how fascinated with leaving I had become. I had always wanted to leave. Run, in fact. But here, I don’t want to leave here.

The second noble truth: determining the cause of suffering. Desire and ignorance lying at the root.

After growing tired of the smog of the city, it was time to climb. I packed my bag with 2 pants, 2 shirts, a water purifier, a sleeping bag, some hiking boots, and a couple of layers to keep me warm through the next two weeks. It was enough and there are places in the world where you constantly feel like what you have isn’t enough. It feels good to strip down to the necessities of humankind. No one to compare riches and debts to. What matters from here is faith in yourself, trust in nature and to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

The trek began with a few hours walking through rice fields. It was colorful and quiet. I walked behind my Nepali guide who had curly hair and a passion for mountains. They were his home after all. He was shy and between the sounds of footsteps jumping over puddles and cattle grazing nearby, the habitual warming questions were soliloquized between. After all, I am spending the next two weeks with this man. I must get to know him and find the reason these mountains echo to him, what his reason is for climbing them for a living despite their obvious beauty. Perhaps for my own desire for clarity. I found out that he’s scared of dogs and swings, loves smoking weed and thought the phrase “Why not, coconut?!” was hilarious. We hopped around the trail until we finally reached the village we were staying at for the night. We shared some raksi, a traditional Nepali liquor, accompanied by dal baht, a traditional rice dish, that I fell in love with. And we laughed and laughed as the raski settled in and stared at the stars until our eyes grew heavy. I fell asleep to the sound of the Ngadi or “river” and the high pitch noise of the crickets.

Again, I rose with the sun, purified some water from the tap and walked alongside the river. This time for 8 hours to the town of Chamche. We took a stop at the base of this massive waterfall to cool down. In an attempt to get closer, I stepped on a grass patch that was not supported. I fell down the side of the cliff, completely burring myself with mud and grass. The mist was blinding being this close to the falls but I screamed and lifted my hand as high as the dirt allowed and was pulled up with nothing but a few scrapes, a sore foot and ankle, some leeches and a whole lot of luck. Upon arrival to Chamche, eating another serving of dal baht, he had the decency to ask me if I’m tired after walking 8 hours with a sore foot and ankle and I honestly didn’t know if he was serious or not but he looked at me waiting in silence for an answer. The day was best described by the words I wrote in my journal: I am climbing these mountains with a goddamn mountain goat.

I woke up to a throbbing foot and cramping calves. 5 hours today. I can do this. I ate lunch under an apple tree and dropped my sunglasses in the toilet or let’s say a full ‘hole in the ground’. Lovely. He said repeatedly “Bistārī, Bistārī” or “slowly, slowly.” He was right and he probably saw my frustration and felt it through my silence. Climbing mountains aren’t meant to be a race. Climbing mountains aren’t meant to be easy. If they were, no one would do it. I finally grew the courage to ask him why he does it. He said it’s in his Nepali blood. And they’re beautiful. He wants to own a tour company one day. And through his rambles, he eventually began to tell me how he started climbing mountains with his brother who passed away in a motorcycle accident two years ago. This was his connection and his dedication to his passing. I didn’t have words to respond and to break the silence, he pointed to the left of us and said: “that’s Annapurna 2.” I counted the rest of my steps with the Nepali words he taught me, “Ēka, du'ī, tīna, cāra, pām̐ca, cha..” and he corrected me as I went on with my mispronunciation.

I stayed up later than usual that night, despite how exhausted I was. It’s been a wave of emotions. This traveling is. Within a mountain lies the heavyweight of awareness due to the lack of distractions. Hours and hours of walking with nothing but your thoughts are the most draining part of it all. The conquerable part of it lies within a sufferer who climbs them anyway and does the difficult achievement of simply surviving.

Today, I fluctuated between ‘why am I doing this’ to ‘I’m so happy I’m doing this’. Today, I sat in a cafe and grew annoyed by a group of Israeli hikers complain about how they found a worm in their pasta. Today, I rolled my eyes to a couple of Americans moan about how they don’t have a private “bathroom.” Now despite being in the middle of the mountains on a trek that will reach near 17,000 feet, I have found myself more irritated with these people than I have with the fact that I have pulled hairs out of the past 3 meals I’ve eaten. Contemplation over whether to be disgusted or impressed with myself began. Is the lack of toilet paper I’ve used in the past few months of traveling impressing or? Is the cracking sounds that my socks make as I put them on in the morning disgusting? What about how comfortable I became peeing on the side of a road or trail? I’d say it’s impressive but I will leave that for each individual to decide.

The next few days, I spent plenty of hours practicing more Nepali, laid in the grass to watch the eagles fly in circles above, hiked up to lake Tilicho lake, the highest lake in the world to listen to ice crack and fall into the lake, and played an indefinite amount of card games with other trekkers. Oh, and ate all the dal baht I could possibly eat.

And when it was finally time to summit, we woke at 4 am before the sun, to a snowstorm and all I heard were the words, “Bistārī” or “Lagabhaga”. Almost. And my god, I have never hated a word more. When I reached the top and saw the tip of the Nepal flag, I walked as close as I could before I eventually collapsed to my knees. 17,769 feet. I cried after over a week of wondering if I’ll make it, if it’s worth it and constantly questioning why the hell I was doing it.  

And it was for this. For the historic human instinct of healing through nature. The feeling of confronting the reflection in the walls of the mountains and the spirits that lay between them. For my dad. For the first time the entire trek, my backpack had felt like nothing and my foot had stopped throbbing. To be humbled and disciplined. To become more human. Enamored by the mountain range, my attitude changed. For so long I carried this feeling of defeat or numbness that I reconciled as avoidance and throughout the trail, there was nothing I could use to hide from myself.

I looked at my guide as he twirled and looked up at the mountains around us. “For you, my brother” he whispered. I hugged him and clenched my locket. We both laughed and fell into the piles of snow as we danced and yelled. All this mountain range was before we started was something beautiful that led to the sky and I looked up and thanked them for becoming so much more than that. 

An end of suffering.

[that-thing-that-feeling]

the sunday times style magazine article below cut:

Even if you’re not one of the 139m people worldwide subscribed to Netflix, you will have heard of Stranger Things. The American sci-fi/horror/coming-of-age series, which was launched in July 2016, became the most-discussed TV show of the year and was impossible to ignore. Twitter hashtags went viral, and there were rave reviews, thinkpieces upon thinkpieces and celebrity fans from Reese Witherspoon to Barack Obama. It rebooted the career of its lead, Winona Ryder, and made overnight stars of its unknown cast members, including 22-year-old British actor Charlie Heaton, now 25. “When it launched, I was shooting a film in a tiny Spanish town where most people don’t speak English,” Heaton says. “In a day or two, my Instagram following went up by thousands. I was at a street market and some Spanish people came up and said, ‘Stranger Things!’ That’s when I knew it had blown up.”

The Stranger Things juggernaut is still going strong — the third series will start on July 4 — as is Heaton. He’s about to take up one of the lead roles in a highly anticipated X-Men horror spin-off, The New Mutants (out in August), has landed the title role in the BBC’s new version of The Elephant Man, and last month was at the Ferragamo show in Milan fashion week. As for that Instagram following? It’s now in the millions.

Heaton arrives on the set for this shoot — a pub in East London — bang on time, holding a pack of rolling tobacco and wearing Burberry trousers and a coat with the collar turned up. He shakes hands with everyone and asks if there’s time for a “quick smoke”. He is slightly restless — and will “nip out for a quick smoke” and to check his constantly beeping phone three more times before we break for lunch. So convincing is his American accent (which he maintains throughout filming), most people are surprised to learn that he’s from Bridlington in Yorkshire. “I tell people I’m from up north and that blows their mind,” he laughs. Disappointingly, the northern accent isn’t strong. “It gets stronger when I go home at Christmas,” he says. He’s still best friends with the lads he went to school with, some of whom “don’t even watch anything I’m in”. Do they make you get all the drinks in now? “Actually, a lot of them are like, ‘Let me buy you a drink, mate, I can still get you a drink.’ It’s a northern thing.” He smiles and lights another roll-up.

In Stranger Things, Heaton plays Jonathan Byers, older brother of Will Byers, the young boy who disappears in the first episode and kicks off the core storyline of the series. Jonathan’s on/off love interest, Nancy, is played by 22-year-old Nashville-born Natalia Dyer. In real life, the actors have been dating publicly for the past two years, but also dated for a while in secret before the rest of the cast found out.

“It’s nice to be with someone who is in the same world,” Heaton says. “We’ve gone through the same trajectory, so have got to share the ups and downs.” They’re about to move in together and are scouting apartments in New York’s East Village. “I’m very happy,” he smiles, willing the conversation on.

Part of the viral success of Stranger Things was down to its nostalgia-drenched fashion (the first series is set in 1983). The oversized glasses and pussy-bow blouses could have fallen straight off a Gucci campaign, and Louis Vuitton’s Nicolas Ghesquière was so inspired, he sent a Stranger Things T-shirt down the SS18 catwalk. Heaton, with his thin frame, messy hair and razor-sharp cheekbones, is made for designer mood boards.

Last May, he sat front row at the Dior cruise show. That said, “I never knew what a brand was growing up,” he tells me over a beer in the pub’s garden post-shoot. “I’d heard of Gucci and Chanel, but didn’t really know what their purpose was. Then, as you get introduced to them more, you realise their importance in the fashion world.”

On the topic of fashion: it was T-shirts that he and co-star Winona Ryder bonded over on set. “She gave me a T-shirt with the Clash on that she got when she went to see them years ago. Then I was reading The Catcher in the Rye and she told me it was her favourite book. She had made T-shirts based on Pencey Prep, the school [the book’s protagonist] Holden Caulfield went to, so she gave me one of those. She was like, ‘I designed it, I hope you like it!’ Of course I liked it. She’s the queen of cool T-shirts and the queen of cool.”

Heaton grew up with his mother, Michelle, and two older sisters (one of whom, Levi, is also an actress). They are incredibly close. “I think there’s a sensitivity that you have from growing up with three women that you maybe wouldn’t have if you grew up in a house of boys,” he says. His parents separated when he was two, but he remained close to his father. At 16, Heaton went to live with him in London. “That’s where I wanted to end up,” he says. “When I moved there, my uncle said [here he adopts a strong Yorkshire accent], ‘Do you like London, then?’ I said, ‘Yeah, it’s great. Do you think you’d ever leave Bridlington?’ He went, ‘Nah, I’ve got everything I need. I’ve got my house, my girlfriend and Sky Sports.’” Heaton chuckles. “The simplicity of it was great, but I’ve always been one for … excitement.”

Heaton’s first taste of acting was drama classes at school and local youth theatre aged eight to 15. He was also a drummer and, aged 16, he joined a noise rock band, Comanechi, that toured globally and supported Gossip. “I went to Japan, Canada and around Europe, living out of van for a couple of years, which was brilliant.” He got back into acting in adverts, as a way of making cash (one of which involved “congaing behind Kevin Bacon in an EE commercial”). A few small TV roles followed before he went to LA in 2015, found an agent and appeared in a horror film, Shut In, with Naomi Watts. “I’d never been to America, I didn’t have any money, so I stayed in youth hostels, basically backpacking for a month and auditioning,” he says. “By then I knew that all I wanted to do was act.” That same year, he got the part in Stranger Things.

In 2017, Heaton made headlines when he was denied entry into the US at LAX airport, reportedly because traces of cocaine were found in his luggage. After being detained, Heaton released a statement, saying that due to “an issue at US immigration”, he was unable to enter the country. I ask how he feels about the incident now, if there is anything he’d like to say about it. He shifts in his seat, clearly wishing to be anywhere else, then switches off my Dictaphone. He only wants to speak off the record about this. It seems he doesn’t know yet what he wants to say, he feels terrible about the whole thing and desperately wants to change the subject. “Can we talk about something else?” he asks.

We return to the safer territory of how life has changed since Stranger Things. “I still audition for stuff I don’t get,” he says; though one role he has just secured is Joseph Merrick, the 19th-century Englishman whose facial deformity led to him becoming known as the Elephant Man. The BBC project is still in development, but Heaton has already faced criticism from the disability charity Scope and some actors, who say the role should have gone to a disabled actor. “I can see their point,” says Heaton. “I think there has to be some balance. There are roles in both episodes that will include disabled actors with that specific disability. But, disabled or not, you would hope that the right person for the role gets it and that’s based on a whole range of things. I don’t make those decisions.”

The pub’s garden is busying and the landlady is waiting impatiently for a picture with Heaton. He’s due to meet some mates at another pub before heading back to his dad’s place, where he stays when he’s in town. Then what? “I’m looking for something different,” he replies. “I’ve played a lot of outsiders.” Maybe it’s time for a comedy? “Yeah, but I’m not funny! I just want to keep acting, keep casting the net wide.” The boy from Bridlington as Hollywood’s Next Big Thing? Stranger things have happened.

[goodlucktai]

lying in the gutter, aiming for the moon

final fantasy xv pairing: gladio/ignis/prompto (mentions of ot4) word count: 1267 summary: Prompto is better when he’s busy, so he pours all of his time and energy into the constant relief efforts, and hunting daemons, and helping displaced refugees make a new home in fortified Lestallum. Ignis and Gladio don’t have much to say to him anymore, but that’s alright -- he can take care of himself. And if this little kid has nobody else and nowhere to go, then Prompto can take care of him, too.

read on ao3

chapter 2/?

x

The Leville was used as a shelter immediately after the fall. With so many people flocking to the safety of Lestallum, it only made sense for the hotel to open its doors and offer its wealth of empty rooms. Since then it's been converted into something of a hostel, with multiple bunks in most rooms instead of the standard double beds, and the lobby serves as a soup kitchen Prompto works at every Wednesday.

Ignis lives there permanently, in a private apartment with attached bathroom and kitchenette, and Gladio stays with him when he's in town. It used to be the place Prompto went home to, too, but he hasn’t been back there in months.

There are other shelters now, new buildings rising up beside the old, ones that Prompto helped build, with communal kitchens and bathrooms on each floor. They’re nice, he thinks, and the people made homeless by night and war seem happy with them.

Prompto has a room in one of those shelters, but only because Ace told Dave that Prompto was sleeping in the back of one of the cargo trucks between jobs, and Dave got disproportionately angry and made the arrangements himself.

“I don’t need this much space,” Prompto had tried to tell him, refusing to take the key. “I’m hardly home anyway, Dave, it doesn’t make sense. There are -- families, people with kids. Give them a place with a bed.”

But Dave didn’t care. And Ace didn’t, either, when Prompto looked betrayed at him. And maybe they would have been at an impasse, except at that point Dave played his trump card and threatened to tell Cindy if Prompto didn’t take the damn room.

He took the damn room, but he wasn’t happy about it. He thought about ignoring it out of spite, but then it would just be sitting empty, and it would be even more pointless than having a room in the first place already was.

Prompto’s relieved his friends were so stubborn, now.

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have room,” the harried woman at the door tells him shortly. She runs the group home, a two-story house where a few live-in caretakers look after misplaced or orphaned children. “Go down to the hospital, there should be a care center there that can take him.”

Prompto stares at the door for a moment after she shuts it, and then turns to look at Ace. Ace shakes his head wearily, leaning against the alley wall as Prompto comes back down the porch steps. Each step is a ginger one, so he doesn’t jostle the sleeping kid in his arms more than he has to. Ace looks amused at him, but doesn’t comment.

“I don’t know what to tell you, brother,” he says instead. “Everyone’s stretched about as thin as they can go, and it’s not like there’s a government in place anymore to oversee things like housing and child care.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, leaning against the wall beside him. “Dave always says our main priority is keeping daemons at bay, politics and law enforcement are worries for another life. But still -- for a kid not to have any place to go -- “

Even Prompto has always had a place to go. An empty house was better than no house at all. Absent parents were better than none. Even now, if he wanted, he could probably go to the apartment he used to live in with Ignis and Gladio. It would be uncomfortable, but he doesn’t think Ignis would turn him away.

Ace looks thoughtful. He says, “My sister might be able to look after him.”

“Your sister is looking after four kids already, only two of which are hers.”

“So take him to the care center, like the lady said. He doesn’t have to be your problem, Prom.”

“That’s exactly why he’s not going to the care center,” Prompto tells him succinctly, shifting the kid’s weight a little. After all the battle machinery he grew accustomed to hauling out of the Armiger and whipping around in a fight, a five year old is nothing. “They’ll look at him like another problem added to the grocery list of things they have to deal with, until they can stick him in a hole somewhere and put a little checkmark by his name and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Nah, dude. That’s not fair.”

Ace has a complicated look on his face that Prompto doesn’t know how to interpret. "You don't know that's how they'd treat him."

“I mean, it’s not hard to guess. Everyone’s overworked and burnt out. It doesn’t make them bad people, Ace, it just makes them the wrong choice for this. I can keep an eye on him for awhile, until we figure something else out.”

“Are you sure? I mean -- I’m not sayin’ you can’t, you’re stubborn enough to be good at anything you put your mind to, and that includes babysitting -- but you’ve got a lot on your plate as it is.”

Prompto sighs inwardly, but he’s not surprised. For whatever reason, Ace and the rest of them seem to think that Prompto is due for some sort of meltdown. They don’t come out and say as much, and no one is going to turn away help when it’s freely offered, but they give him side-eyes every now and then, like they can see his seams trying to come apart.

He’s fine, though. He likes helping. He’s on the duty roster for pretty much everything, from cooking to carpentry to electric repair, even if the hunters usually claim him for supply runs and escort missions. He’s better when he’s staying busy.

So he slides sideways, enough to bump Ace’s shoulder playfully, trying to shake that look off his face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Everything’s cool. Sorry for dragging you out here with me for nothing.”

His friend gives him the driest expression Prompto’s seen in a long time, since Noctis tried to repair one of his shirts during the first leg of their roadtrip and Ignis found the attempt while he was doing the laundry.

“Don’t quit your day job,” the advisor had said, sending Gladio and Prompto into gales of laughter while Noctis sat there looking offended.

The memory makes Prompto laugh a little now, too, at the same time it makes him want to curl into a little ball of misery and nurse a grief that’s still, somehow, raw and aching.

“What’d I tell you about saying sorry to me?” Ace is saying by rote, and Prompto doesn’t miss a beat with his cheeky grin.

“To not to. Sorry.”

“Brat,” says Ace, who is a whole month younger than Prompto. “Get home, then, and I’ll let Dave know about the kid. And I better see the two of you at breakfast, or I'm telling June you've skipped it the last few days."

"Six, you don't have to threaten me. We'll be there." Prompto glances down at the boy he's holding, and adds, "Maybe I'll know his name by then, too. I can introduce you properly and all that."

Ace ruffles his hair, until it sticks up the way it used to when gel was a thing people could worry about. He's got a crooked smile on a face that lends itself well to smiling, dark eyes and dusky skin the farthest thing from Noctis there could be, and maybe that's why it's so easy for Prompto to be near him. He says, "I can't wait to meet him," and Prompto knows he means it.

"Look at you, Mr. Popular," Prompto says to the sleeping boy, making his way down a well-lit street towards home. "You've got two friends already, and you're not even awake yet. You're off to a great start."

[mrandmrsvex]

Wow, I finally finished this old fic....

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series), Perc'ahlia - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia Additional Tags: Modern AU, hotel au, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Winter Special I guess :D Summary:

Vex doesn't trust 'free' offers of any kind. But when she's stranded in a foreign city with no hostel bed and not enough money for a hotel, she can't deny the handsome stranger offering her a free stay at the swankiest hotel in town.

Vex didn't clearly remember how they'd made their way to the elevator.

She remembered a hand reaching out to help her up as a waiter pulled away her chair and she realised she was a bit more drunk than expected.

She remembered a smile as she stuttered out a not so sly „a gentleman should make sure his date gets home safely, right?“.

She remembered another hand, maybe the same hand, just as warm, on the slope of her back as they passed through the foyer. Nothing too inappropriate, of course – they were still in public, after all, but for a split second she wondered just how many eyes were on her and the owner of the goddamn place with his hand on her back, right now, right here, in front of everyone.

But they were in the elevator now, that she remembered, nobody else but them.

Percy barely had time to start on his sentence – the topic certainly didn't matter right now – before he was silenced by her lips. He didn't seem to mind. She pulled away after what felt like hours, smiling, then pulling him back down by his collar to whisper in his ear.

„I changed my mind, actually.“ She could almost feel the heat of his face as her breath trawled past his ear. „I think I'd much rather be escorted back to your room.“

And that remained the only sentence said in the elevator.

The door opened with a soft 'ding', and they were both relieved no one was standing in front of them in the hallway. It would've taken quite some time to straighten their clothes, and even more to explain away what was very clearly going on.

Sixth floor, Vex thought to herself for just a moment. The same floor her room was on. Did he know that? She might have been drunk and excited and very much occupied with this entire... situation, but she was still smart enough not to take a stranger back to her place. If anything, this made it easier to sneak out if needed – maybe soon, maybe in the morning. Percy pulled her out of her thoughts and out of the elevator. He seemed quite a bit less insecure now, covered in lipstick marks – though blushing heavily enough to almost hide them – as he kept leading her down the corridor, fingers intertwined. He still fumbled with his keycard at the door, but that could be chalked up less to insecurity and more to her hands under his shirt.

There was a lot of stumbling involved as they went into the room, over each other's legs as they tried to get across without letting go, over dresses and shirts and shoes on the floor, finally over a small stack of books that sent Percy straight down onto the bed behind him.

Vex, never against taking the chance of opportunity, was already climbing on top of him, her hands busy with his beltbuckle, her mouth somewhere around his neck, when she felt the quiet groaning in his throat turn into words.

„Vex.“ He was out of breath, but his voice got stronger as she continued. „Vex.“

She looked up at him, his glasses askew.

„I don't – this is probably... I mean, just...“ He was stuttering nervously as he sat up halfway, and her hands drifted away slowly. There was no way she could've misread this situation, surely?

„I don't want you to think that I, I tried to... buy you, or anything, with the-...“

She couldn't help but smile as she shifted towards him again, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

„Oh, darling. Trust me. Even if you handed over everything you own, you couldn't afford me.“

He returned her smile before pulling her down again.

--------

She was half asleep when a sharp knock on the door jostled her. Percy, peacefully next to her with his face hidden in the nape of her neck, only grumbled. The knocking continued.

„Oh, for god's sake.“ He sat up, collecting together what few items of clothing he could find around the bed – his pants, at least, an older tshirt thrown over a chair, everything else seemed to have stayed in the living room area into which he trodded now.

„Yes, alright, just a moment, goddamnit.“

Vex shifted around, trying to hide herself under the massive down duvet. The bed wasn't visible from the door, thank god, but she noticed a mirror placed conveniently across the room that gave her only a half-obscured view of the door as Percy opened it with an angry flourish.

A young woman was standing there, hand still in the air from her continuous knocking, a stack of papers in the other. Cassandra, Vex thought immediately. It was hard not to see the similarity in their faces, the curve of the nose, the dark eyebrows – a bit thinner on her than on Percy, but still. He confirmed her guess with his annoyed sigh.

„Really, Cass? Really? It's almost past midnight.“

„Well, I was told you were busy every time I asked for you.“ Her voice was very matter-of-fact as her eyes trailed down her brother's less than presentable outfit, then darted to the clothes strewn across the floor. Vex could only imagine her boots and blue dress standing out against the light woodflooring. „It seems like that's true, but I hope you're not busy now. I'd hate to interrupt anything, but-“

„Cassandra.“ He sighed again. „What. do. you. want.“

„I need your signature on several documents-“

„Can it not wait until tomorrow morning?“ „Well, I suppose it could but-“

„Good.“ He closed the door so quickly that the last thing Vex could see of his sister was the glaring shock in her eyes while she tried to get another word in.

She was still giggling under the covers when he climbed back into bed.

„I'm sorry about this.“

Her hands were already under his tshirt again, pulling him closer, as a random thought sprung into her mind.

„Didn't you say you were only partially the owner of the hotel?“ „Yes? Well, I had her put into the bill of ownership as well, since she's running the place and deserves it, in my opinion.“ „Does she really need your signature for anything, then?“

He stared at her, and even in the dark she could tell the gears clicked into place as he almost snarled.

„I'm going to- I'm- she's going to get the talk of her- I'm so sorry.“

„Don't.“ Her hands stroked along his cheek, and his furrowed brows softened a bit. „I'm pretty sure I would've done the same with my brother.“ She could clearly recall her many, many friendly visits to Vax's room the first few times Keyleth had come over, asking if they wanted some coffee, or some of the cookies she just bought, or if they wanted to order some takeout with her, or... until her brother finally threw one of his pillows at her and barricaded the door. Percy's reaction had been just as effective, it seemed, since there was no more knocking.

„It's still very rude.“

„I don't know. If I only heard second-hand reports of my brother dining and drinking with a strange woman, I'd want to check out what was what too.“

„Oh lord.“ He ran his hand across his face as he turned onto his back, her hand still under his shirt coming to rest on his stomach. „I didn't think our employees would be that gossipy.“ „Don't worry.“ She pulled her arms back to herself without thinking about it. „I'm pretty stealthy. I'll be out of here tomorrow before room cleaning shows up.“

„No.“ He didn't seem to be thinking either, considering how quick his answer was. „I mean, you don't have to. Unless you want to.“

She smiled as she felt his hand crawl into her hair. „Do you not want to hide your torrid little love affair from your staff?“

„If you think I'd mind people seeing a gorgeous woman at my side, I'll have to dissappoint you. Also, I recall the promise of a drink at the Winter's festival. That's quite a public place.“

„True.“ She laid her head down on his chest as he continued to sift through her hair. „Plus I got this free room in the hotel for, like, three days. I think that's enough time to show me the town, and show me around town as well.“

„I'm not sure.“ She could hear the laughter in his voice. „Whitestone is not a big town, but there are a lot of interesting places.“

„I've also heard spectacular things about your New Years fireworks.“

„Oh yes. I should know. I've built half of them.“

She sat up again, looking at him with innocent eyes even as she grinned.

„I think I have no other choice but to use your gifted card for a few days more than intended.“

He again returned her smile before pulling her down into a kiss.

Vex turned the key in the familiar, paint-chipped door of her tiny flat with a sigh and stepped in. After over a week in a high-class hotel, it was hard not to compare the dark frontroom with her airy suite – not that she'd spent much time in it.

She was expecting an empty apartment or a still grumbling brother, but she was instead met by an excited squeal and a flurry of red hair as Keyleth pulled her into a big bear hug, with Trinket excitedly barking and shuffling around their legs.

„Welcome home! Merry belated christmas! Happy new year! Oh gosh, you were gone so long!“

„Hello, darling, and a happy new year to you too.“ She put down her backpack, ruffled through Trinket's fur and looked around the flat – Keyleth had apparently spend the first day of the year deep-cleaning it, as Vax would've never left it so pristine while she was gone.

„My brother's at the hospital, I assume?“ „Yeah, he won't be home until 9pm. Sorry. I made cocoa! With, um, with baileys. Do you want some?“

„That sounds lovely.“ Vex pulled out her phone while Keyleth basically jumped back into the tiny kitchen corner.

Hey Doofus, back home. Think you need to monitor your gf's sugar intake.

The reply came only seconds later.

Welcome back Stubby. Prep 4 big hug and scolding 2nite.

She could only smile at the message while sitting down at the kitchen table, a steaming cup shoved into her hands right away. Keyleth sat across from her, almost shaking from excitement, a giant grin on her face.

„Tell me. Everything.“

It took about an hour to get everything out of her system. She omitted the more... delicate parts – Keyleth certainly didn't need to know that much, nor did her brother, who'd hear everything from his girlfriend the moment they were alone, she was sure.

Keyleth was bobbing up and down in her chair.

„Wow! Vex! This is like, a movie story! A wayward girl getting swept off her feet by a mysterious Lord!“

„It's most definitely not.“ She'd been trying to get her head back to reality on the bus home, after this whirlwind of a week, and Keyleth's optimism certainly didn't help. „It was a wonderful time, yes. But it was. I mean, Whitestone is hours away, and I'm not even sure if Percy is planning to ever see me again anyway.“

„Are you sure? Cause it doesn't sound like a one time deal to me, the way you told me- OH!“ Keyleth was suddenly up and across the kitchenette, sorting through a heap of mail. „That reminds me – this letter came for you yesterday – it says, like, Whitestone Hotel on the adress!“

She handed over the letter, just as elegant as all the stationary Vex had seen during her stay. Ripping it open and reading down the page, she couldn't help but bite her lip to avoid giggling.

„What is it? What is it???“ Keyleth was still standing, trying hard not to read the letter over Vex's shoulder.

„An invitation. To the Whitestone Easter Event.“

Keyleth was still busy squealing and hugging her shoulders from behind the chair when Vex noticed a smaller envelope inside the already opened one, and a handwritten note on the bottom of the printed, official looking invitation. The writing was very familiar. She'd read the few sentences she had of it over and over again, after all.

I have included the customary voucher for returning guests. I assume you know how to use it.

Love, Percy

- P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm; }A:link { }

If you think I did a good job writing this, and you have some copper to spare, consider buying me a coffee?

[takemedancingmaine]

When I’m With You

Part Two to Green Light - Read Part One Here (@deathbylowden) Listen - When I’m With You by Ben Rector

"Hell and heaven, they can wait for you, So go and do all the things that you want to do!"

You and Jack are singing loudly along to Stereophonics as he speeds down the roads, through hills and valleys, toward a castle he's promised is a true gem of the county.

It's a week into your Scotland trip. You've been through Edinburg and Glasgow, you've seen St. Andrews and now you're just going and going through the northern part of the country. Jack has agreed to spend a few nights in hostels with you if you spend a few nights in B&Bs with him.

Compromise, he's called it. You save and he gets to show you daily life in Scotland with people who live it.

You've gotten along quite well for only having met six days ago. He's easy going, and as you'd noted before, his dark humour and cynicism is actually quite funny and uplifting when you need it to be.

"I said a woah pretty baby come and take my hand I’m gonna shake you all night, baby yes I can, woah!

Such as life in the rear view mirror The open road up ahead is the future Time came round and wrecked our place But when I look back now I got a smile on my face!"

You're still singing.

You find yourself almost hypnotized by his voice as he sings along. He's really quite a good singer. He sings harmonies and you stay on the melodies, sometimes changing octaves if the key is too low for you, but your voices flow together over the sounds echoing out his stereo and into the cabin of his Range Rover.

You watch as he sings. His neck straining on the higher bits, his cheeks flushed, his dimples flashing. He's rather handsome you think to yourself.

You've slipped out your phone and filmed a bit of you two just now. You're swaying and dancing, giggling and laughing, as you sing along while the highlands blur past. It's absolutely been a treat.

Jack has been nothing but normal. Even after your research into who he is--yes, you've watched interviews and videos of him--he's not been anything but just a kind-hearted nerd who stumbled upon you in a café.

He's not been stopped at all to make photographs or anything. He's taken a few business phone calls, but he never kept himself on them long. Just long enough to get all the information and then he'd hang up.

He stressed to you that he wanted nothing but an adventure for this vacation he was on. He wanted to just enjoy his time away from work and enjoy his country.

He'd been talking about how busy he'd been, how he'd been going non-stop for three years since he really broke into film. He told you about filming and about how he loves acting, how he got into it, and how he stopped dancing when he realized Calum, his baby brother, was a million times better than him.

He never talked about the fame or the money he made. He only ever talked about the fun he had, the circumstances he's found himself in. He steadfastly didn't talk about the other bits. You've come to think it's subconscious on his part. You don't think he really acknowledged that he did it while he did it, but he definitely figured it out afterwards. He knew he was doing it.

It was nice though. You found yourself enjoying his company. He was funny and kind. He was just sweet and always knew how to have fun, even when you'd been to Loch Ness and it was pouring down rain, absolutely miserable. You still managed to have a wonderful time.

"I cannae believe you know Stereophonics," he shakes his head with a smile as the song ends and segues into another song. This one is Bad Penny by the band Mipso. The group started in the same town you went to uni--the musicians going to your uni with you--and that's how you'd found out about them.

Jack gives you a look when the song starts. He's curious and a bit disbelieving.

The two of you had gone through and made a playlist after your second day of adventuring. Each night you would add more songs and then just hit shuffle the next day when you got on the road in the morning. The amount of music he knows combined with the amount of music that you know means you've not yet needed to repeat any songs, instead you skip past them to the new ones you've added.

"I know more music than you seem to think," you smirk as he shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road. "I think one of their songs was in a show or something and I'm one of those people that looks up things like that, finds music used in shows," you shrug.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" He asks.

"Always," you smile back at him. From the corner of his eye, he sees you and grins wide.

"Why do you think I travel for a living even if I hate seeing things behind a camera?" You ask rhetorically.

"I've been meaning to ask about that," he says now.

"I needed an excuse to see everything and I'm good at photography," you say. "I just put two and two together even if it's not necessarily my favourite thing when combined. It's worth it all."

"A bit like my acting and telling stories is what I love to do--it's fun--even when the attention I get isn't exactly my favourite," he slips out.

You aren't sure if he meant to say it aloud, but it's out there now.

"You handle it all very well, you do," is what you say.

"Thank ya," he gives a small quirk of his lips at your encouragement before he goes back to the road, his fingers tapping along with the music.

You start tracing the moles on his neck with your eyes, connecting the dots between them much like those children's books you'd coloured in back in primary school. As if they're freckle constellations that have stories and folklore written about them. Perhaps you'd write folklore about them when this is all over.

But that's still eight days away. There's no need to think about that now. Because thinking about it makes it real, and you don't want your time ending with Jack to be real. So, if you don't think about it, it's not.

Pretty sound logic, honestly.

Instead, you sing along to the music as he dances in his seat beside you.

"Holy shit." The words leave your mouth in a stunned whisper.

"I told you, didn't I?" He asks from his spot beside you.

You pay him no mind as you lift your camera up to your eye and snap a photograph, testing the lighting.

There are clouds rolling across the whole sky, but on the horizon, there's a bit of pink breaking through from the setting sun and the whole scene in front of you looks like a fairytale.

The dark greys and blues mixing with the oranges and pinks, the castle basking in the glow of it all... it's overwhelming to try and capture the sheer perfection of the scene in front of you. You shift the white balance a bit before snapping more pictures, changing angles and focus as you go.

Eventually, when you think you've gotten something suitable enough to use for the magazine and website, you let the camera drop from your hands, it's strap tugging on your neck as it does.

You don't say anything as you start walking, wanting to see it all, see everything, and see it immediately. You want to spend the rest of your life here, right here just enjoying the scenery, the craftsmanship, the unbelievable beauty that lies just before you.

Eilean Donan Castle. Located on an island all to its own. Three sea lochs surrounding it.

"That's the famous bridge," you hear Jack speaking beside you. Your heart hammers in your chest as you begin to walk across it.

"That's the Isle of Skye," he points out quietly.

You've seen a lot of things, you've even seen quite a few castles. There's something here though, something about this castle, this spot in particular, that makes your mind float with excitement, with the anticipation to see more.

Jack can tell. He stops beside you when your feet halt in the middle of the arching bridge, halfway between land and the island belonging to the castle.

You look out to the water, the whole scene overwhelming you with its perfection and Jack senses this. He reaches down and grasps your hand in his.

You turn your head and meet his gaze as he looks down at you. He gives you a reassuring smile and his hand feels like a grounding force, warm in your own.

Your gaze locks with his, the blue holding you, and you know that this adventure with Jack is exactly where you want to be. Where you need to be. You hadn't even known that until a week ago. And now it's all you know.

With his smile and a slight nod from you, you begin walking again, your hand remaining locked in his as he guides the two of you to the entrance and you begin the explore the castle inside and out.

You don't say much throughout the explore. Instead, you just keep Jack at your side, hand still in his, as he quietly tells you secrets and folklore and lets you read the various placards, let's you just absorb everything around you.

It's as if it's all too much and not enough simultaneously.

"This doesn't feel real," you whisper as you walk back across the bridge toward his car, ready to head back to the local town, Portree, for food and shelter. You've got the whole of tomorrow to explore the town--or come back and explore the castle some more, he tells you when he notices your slight reluctance to leave.

"Sometimes I think it's all a fairytale," Jack says from his place beside you.

"I can't believe you grew up here," you shake your head.

"Well, not here," his lips twitch a bit into a smirk, "but I know what you mean. If you want to see one of Scotland's biggest fans, just look for me."

"I'm just in awe of the fact that any of this exists," you look around you.

"You have seen the Mayan pyramids," Jack gives you a look.

"I know..." you trail off. "I can't explain it. There's just something here that feels like magic, almost. I know it sounds dumb, but..."

"No," he shakes his head as he finally lets go of your hand before you each climb into the car. "I know what you mean. It doesn't sound dumb at all," he gives you a smile as he starts the car and starts the brief journey back into town for the night. "It could really be magic," he whispers, almost so quietly that you don't hear him.

[jessiewre]

Day 7

Sat 11th Jan

I felt ill the next morning, had a headache and felt rubbish - classic case of the gorilla blues - but peanut butter on toast with tea definitely perked me up. We got in the taxi with the annoying man and headed off for Rotunda, the port near Kabale for our Lake Bunyonyi hostel. About a 1.5 hour journey.

The car had no rear view mirror but in its place was a mini tv screen with films playing.

I mean, who actually uses their rear view mirror anyway.

The driver spent a lot of the journey trying to convince us to book him to take us to the next place we were thinking of going - Ishasha, in the South of the Queen Elizabeth National Park - but then he dropped his quote and it landed like a lead balloon. There was no way we were going to pay him 350$.

Then he got a phone call from our hotel guy, to tell him that we had left our travel mosquito net behind. Darn it!

I remembered that the driver had said he was bringing more customers in the same direction in the afternoon, so I asked him if he could bring it to us. He said Yes but I felt like it might have been dependant on us booking him for future travel...

Eww this was more complicated that it was worth maybe.

We got to the little port after about 1.5 hours and the boat taxi said 20000 so we asked if he meant each, and he said yes.

Our annoying taxi driver was really getting on my nerves to be honest so we told him that we would call him later to discuss the transport thing, and the net, and we left on the taxi boat.

The lake and surrounding islands were beautiful and we pulled up to the cute Om Hostel to be greeted by a man called Hillary (as in Clinton, he said). It was on a hillside with a lake house right on the water and other huts up the hill.

He carried our bags up 4 flights to the reception at the top and told us our room would be ready soon. We noticed another couple knocking around and he was organising something for them so we asked to order lunch. The menu looked good and we were starving so we ordered Pad Thai, quesadillas & a giant samosa!

What a winning combo.

The chef was away from the kitchen on an unknown errand so we waited an hour or so for him to arrive - ok I was staaaarving by this point - then the super friendly likeable Bosco arrived, apologising profusely for being unavailable and we instantly liked him and told him of course no worries.

We were thrilled when the combo turned up and we got stuck in.

However the pad Thai was a packet of cheap noodles with sauce on top, the quesadillas was a folded chapati with sauce and some cheese inside, then the samosa was giant, I’ll give it that, but with sauce inside too.

Each one had EXACTLY the same sauce made from tomatoes, peppers and onions. Roy would have loved it.

Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t taste bad - but it was a little bit repetitive.

Phil didn’t seem to mind one bit, he was tucking in like Joey and the trifle.

Still, it filled a hole and we decided we’d maybe ask the chef for some recommends for dinner.

We checked into our room but Phil remembered that he had booked the lake hut and this clearly wasn’t it. We asked Hillary who had inadvertently given it to the other couple just before we’d checked in as he thought it was available.

Phil had booked this lake hut TWO months previously, so it was kind of annoying.

But we agreed that we would just shift there the next day as the couple were leaving then. Plus our room was closer to the kitchen and campfire area, so less steps.

Hillary let us use his phone to quickly call the annoying driver and say Please don’t come to the hostel as he’d said he was going to, just to leave the net at the port and we’d work it out from there. He agreed to call Hillary when he’d dropped it off.

We got ourselves organised and went for a hike up around the lake into the hills and it was SO NICE. Within about 5 minutes, the views were amazing and it was a really fun trail with rocks to climb and cute paths. We went past local houses and the children waved and smiled.

Then a teenage boy appeared and started to chat to us and invite us to his craft shop - we’d been told this might happen - so we obliged and went along. There we met his brother Apollo who said he’d love to walk with us further up the hill and tell us a little bit about the Lake and its history. Again, we’d been given a heads up this might happen - so we cracked on and heard about Punishment Island, Upside Down Island, Zebra island and Dr Sharp (will fill you in another time on these). Some children turned up and were playing football, but we looked closer and realised their ball was made from plastic bags all rolled up and then tied with rags. So resourceful. What do you do if you want a football but can’t afford one? You MAKE ONE OUT OF RUBBISH.

We hiked back down and jumped into the lake, as its one of the only inland places you can safely swim in East Africa, or maybe even all Africa - no dangerous animals or diseases. Phil did a few little lengths but never ventured too far as he definitely imagined that there would probably be one single hippo or crocodile in the lake who’d travelled there that day just for him and that it would definitely want to eat his chicken legs.

Just after we got out, we heard a boat sound and I just knew - I said to Phil I bet its that driver bloke. Sure enough, there he was, mosquito net in hand to try and make us book him for the next bit of our trip at his extortionate prices. He walked down to the pier to somehow contain him rather then let him come up to the restaurant and spoke to him to explain that we would call him if we needed him but were not in a position to pay this money. Hillary was nearby so I asked him how much the boat should be so we could pay for it - and he said 15,000 which was annoying as we’d paid 20,000. But anyway, we paid for his boat and he eventually left. I really didn’t like him by this point.

Dinner was a massive step up, Bosco really came into his own and we had delicious vege burger, vege curry and onion rings.

We sat round the campfire with the other couple (Dutch and Lithuanian) and Hillary and Bosco joined us, telling us about the dowry marriage system in Uganda - how men have to pay the family of the girl they want to marry, and if that can’t afford to do this then they can’t marry her. The father of the man used to pay the dowry for his son, also earning the right to take the virginity of his sons new bride, but this stopped around the 80s apparently. Can’t think why. WTAF.

[autowrite]

Ardennes Trip Journal - 28.07.19 - 10.08.19

Day 1

23:15 The adventure continues. So much to say and only 14 minutes to do it in. The accommodation is pretty crappy. An old youth hostel converted into something..maybe not even converted. I arrived with 2 woman who couldn’t find their way here with a GPS. Right now I feel like I’ve let myself down a bit. I promised myself I would be authentic, I feel like Im hiding, crawling back into my shell. I promise myself that I will do what it takes to be authentic here, even if I don’t totally know what it means. I think it has to do with flow, carefree ness. There are a few girls here that I’m attracted to, one of them is the lady in charge of the volunteers. She doesn’t have a pretty face but she wears tight clothing and she has a nice body. I like tight clothing on a nice body. I feel like I underestimated the amount of work I’ll have to do here. It seems like mostly work with a bit of free time over. I would like to see more of the surroundings but I’m not sure what, I’m not even sure how curious I am to be honest. The meals are vegetarian and don’t seem to be enough, I have a feeling I won’t be able to fall asleep quickly because I’m kinda hungry. My mind has been hijacked by Mara. I keep thinking about having a little fling with Hanna. I gave her a hug earlier when we were alone in the bathroom. Damn, how did I manage that? The truth is I’m just using her. Lust is toxic, it’s toxic. But the pull toward her is strong. If I go down this road it will lead to another and then another and then another. It doesn’t stop until I put an end to it. Until I make the decision to not engage. The people that work here are rather nice. Bert and Wim and Carlos. There are very cute and friendly young little cats here. This evening I saw the mommy cat run into the garden, frantically lookin*for one of her young ones, and then she gave her a little mice she caught to  play with. It was so adorable. I would like to use my time here to also be able to relax and read and go for walks and bloom socially.

14:00 I’m on a train. It takes almost 4 hours to get there and the time is flying. I’ve read some google reviews of the place and a lot of people say the inside looks kind of shitty and that the food is too vegan. Mixed responses. But then they also say it’s isurroinded by beautiful nature in the middle of nowhere, I’m curious about that! I think it’s going to be pretty cool. I’m tried right now, I need some sleep. I hope I get along with my colleagues, I hope that I can flip the switch and be open, spontaneous and helpful. Wild, adventurous, authentic. Funny af.  I guess all I’m looking for is a nice place to wake up in, with fresh air, some structure, a place to read and relax, a place to push myself a little in terms of social interactions! I’m glad I thought of journaling, I’ll write in this thing every day. They say that phones and WiFi doesn’t park very well there, not sire of this is a good or bad thing but I’m leaning more to it being a good thing. I’m a little worried that I’ll be my usual, rather serious, seldom-able-to-genuinely-smile self, that I’ll close up and all my (perfectly acceptable and even good) ideas will remain ideas in my head, that I might not have the courage to act on ‘em? Maybe? Perhaps? We’ll see. I got a lot of books with me, I’m happy about that. They have a piano there, playing piano is a very meditative practice (even kinda spiritual). I’m also a tad concerned that everyone will be ‘nice’ in an annoying way, like super-friendly, heart-on-their-sleeves millennials there to confront me with how old and uptight I am :-) I’m actually just a big kid inside, but showing that side takes a lot of guts, requires a lot of freedom (giving myself permission to be free), requires a certain amount of trust ofcourse. But I want just that. Carefreeism. Feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Ain’t no one, NO one going to give you permission to put on that hat, that’s a decision you make on your own..Writing this I feel a bit like the main character from a Michael hollebeqs ‘Whatever’. A guy who’s very aware of everything, has a fair amount of emotional intelligence, but is a little dead inside. Desperately in need of using his imagination, spontaneity. Fuck it i don’t want that! I reckon the people there will be hippy types with loose, comfortable clothing. Some dreadlock types that I will kind of look down on but they’ll be too busy living there lives (like I should be doing) to care. Fuck, when did this become a novel? I’m writing this as though someone is going to read it, someone like Lisa and I’m trying my best to be all insightful and clevah. Fuck that, this is my journal and I’ll be as daft and incoherent as I want. Meanwhile small Wallonian towns zip past me under overcast weather from this train. This little spot here is my comfort zone but also a creative abs therapeutic space. Fuck this train announce speak is loud and just above me. I’m hungry. I’m concerned abou this strict vegan policy they have there, that I’ll be hungry all the time, and won’t be able to sleep. I’m enthusiastic about apply Radical Acceptance techniques to this experience. To take the time to recognise how I feel, to ‘paise’ and offer myself some compassion perhaps. It’s okay, whatever happens: it’s okay. Showing up as you is ok. Feeling afraid and unsafe is okay. Being jouuous and free is okay. Doing you is ok. Not doing you is ok. Not having a good time is ok. You’re ok. I DON’T want to use this journal as a place to hide. A place to observe the world on the other side of some glass. Day 2

9:50 I slept ok, not great. The beds were ok. I have 10 minutes to write this and it all feels a bit rushed. I got laundry to do coz my shit is filthy. The weather is really nice and there is a really pretty courtyard with flowers and birds and little cats. Breakfast was pretty good, lots of oatmeal and things to choose from. I’m really bummed abiut the fact that our shifts here are split up in 2, through out the day, making it hard to leave the premise. I’m sitting here in the kitchen and there’s a world out there that I’d like to discover. The water for the shower is warm as opposed to hot. I’m tired but I’m so used to it that I hardly notice it anymore. I don’t feel much like talking, and others seem to want to talk. I don’t mind that much I guess, but I also want to not feel obligated to chat. But when I’m on my own i also feel a bit restless. I’m bothered by the stains on my shorts which look a bit gross. Worried that ill be limited to only the kitchen and the immediate surroundings while I’m here. The ‘sugar’ I put in my coffee is unrefined and tastes kind of gross. I have a feeling I’m going to get annoyed by the work here. I came here to work but also enjoy the surroundings. Damn. 22:30 I’m super tired right now, o feel o should have gotten more rest. They make us work a lot over here, it’s testing my laziness. I went for a walk and it was quite nice. I’m giving this experience a 6 out of 10 so far. I feel like a kid at times. I saw a horse that was blind in one eye, I stroked his face and his hit vs,r off on my finger. He seemed very ol and quite sad. I would have done more for him if I knew what he wanted. I have this feeling that I’m missing something. This afternoon I sat in front of the piano and I could lose myself in the notes. It was meditativive and restorative. It felt like something spiritual, I enjoyed it. I, tore, did I mention I was tired. I also feel a bit floppy and like...not a whole person. I’m worried that I’ll be stuck in arrested development forever, I feel so immature at times. I know that reliving the pain would fix it all but you can’t force these kind of things. Anyway, the weather is good, the people are nice and I’m happy to call it a night. I feel like I can do a lot more though.

Day 3 

22:50 I woke up today in a really bad mood. Not enough sleep, bad sleep. We eat vegan food here all day long, maybe that’s effecting it. I have quite a lot of wind, but that’s ok. I worked today, it’s 5 or 6 hours but it feels like all day. I’m happy to be here. I socialise all day too, and it’s fine. Sometimes not fine, sometimes I’m gripped with self-consciousness every time I open my damn mouth. Sometimes it feels like every single interaction is awkward, I know what is required is to let go but I probably put too much  pressure into it. Letting go is actaully effortless really, want an idea.  Anyway, I ended things with Katya today and i think this is for the best. I’m smoking too much and I think it’s for the best. I think about Carlos quite a bit, he’s quite a special dude. And Wim is leaving tomorrow and I’m sorry about that, I’m gonna miss him a little. His brother Bert is a nice guy, such an open and friendly person, with a big heart. I find it hard to make eye contact with himi, in a way. The ladies love him. Speaking of ladies I went with a walk with Hanne and I made tons of moves to the point she felt uncomfortable. When I returned I felt guilty and empty. I’d like to relax more here. I’m looking into doing something similar to this in a place with an ocean. This whole experience has been good. The work grounds me, puts things into perspective, but I have to admit I was expecting something a little better than this. I now know that my idea of farming or working in this way was merely a romantic one. Actually I want to be around creative people. People like me who want to make things, get lost in things, I’m just not yet sure what that ‘thing’ is.

Day 4 

22:40 Sitting here in the back of my corvette. Sitting here in the mountains of Spain, not claiming to know anything anymore. And so the journey begins.. Day 4. I keep asking Hanne for hugs. I worked in the garden today, I wasnt feeling it very much at  all. But I should be greatful, my teenage years were really tough, said the talk show host. I’m greatly out of touch with my center today, I could meditate on this though, embrace it, use it, it feels good to be alone. 12 minutes every single day. I’m waiting for the American cook. Hanna is leaving tomorrow for holiday in Schotland, I feel sad abiut that. And Wim left today. It was really nice getting to know him. He told me a lot about his travelling through South America. He’s got this crazy look in his eyes, he looks a bit like he took some bad acid, he also looks like someone who might be an alcoholic. I feel like I’m not capable of getting close to anyone at times, and they can sense it. I want to though, maybe they don’t notice it. Hanne is a work horse, but obviously has her own issues. She is cute though. Jeff is also cool of course. I feel like I scare people. I got a nice compliment from Carlos who said I should do stand up comedy. Where the heck is Lorenzo at? He said that to me 2 once. I get my energy by losing myself in creativity, making jokes. I get my creativity from a lot of things. Right now I’m in bed, nothing to be said. Right now I live like there’s a tomorrow, a red car racing. Like MJ and codependency. I called Lisa, she sounded enthusiastic and happy to hear from me. Latisha is doing well and is her cute self, miss her. I saw someone take one of the little cats away today and I cried just a little. I’m sure she  will be loved in her new home.

Day 5

21:50 Day 5 in Orval. I like it here, it’s peaceful. The grass is green, the birds sing and there’s cats around. I worked in the kitchen today and then then the garden. Enough to fill the day and I’m tired and ready for bed. Hanna left for Schotland today, I fooled around with her in her bedroom, but she held me at bay and I wasn’t interested in treating her like a sex object. She’s sweet and deserves a lot better. Carols was up to his usual tricks, conspiracy theories and what not. We found out today that I weigh twice as much as him. I’m actually gaining weight here, crazy. I’m saving money while being here, and doing the right thing. One of my goals being here is to show up authentically every single day. I’m kind of doing that, but sometimes I’m not sure what that means. I think it involves using my body. My work ethic has become a bit of a joke, I’m the guy that breaks away from the kitchen to play piano, it has crossed my mind that I like it when people are talking about me, even f it’s negative, even if it’s laughing. I think i night want constant reassurance, but deep down I want something more real than that, you know? Meditate on that. I’m not meditating, but enough about me. Wim is returning tomorrow, that’s cool. Not sure if I have a half day off tomorrow or not. The good is great. I haven’t eaten a single animal product in 5 days. I feel fine, I don’t feel amazing though, like the early days of changing my diet. Worked with Jeff in the garden, the sun was shining real pretty like, I posed as a Mexican drug cartel worker, it was silly. I thought I lost my kindle, but I didn’t.  I want to make plans to go on more walks, do some excercise, get up early. I would like to make kale smoothies too. I had an amazing insigh today, often when people talk to me, I feel a lot of tightening up around the heart. Construction of the heart. It’s clear in a way. That’s when I decide to relax and look the person right in the eye, and I feel the wall, the constricting melt a little. Other times I feel the opposite way, other times I feel my heart opening up, and I feel love and I honestly feel like giving the people around me a big big. There are people here that have stayed for 5 months. You can save money by being here. Don’t got back to Hurtsville. Your time here is good.

Day 6 

23:10 Day 6 in bold. They make us work too much over here. I did some weeding today, fuck, never doing that again. I lasted an entire hour. I think I’d lose my mind if I were a farmer, I need people too much. Need em to reassure me, tell me I’m alive. It’s been a long day, we work about 32 hours/week here. That’s almost a full time job, what a crappy candle. The highlight of my day might have been my meditation. Sitting under a tree with a horsefly that I killed,  it very Buddha like. The meditation helped me become more grounded. Later I went on Facebook. What the help are we doing with our lives? My her is Conan, what a silly name. How does this guy come up with so many jokes, he’s so damn funny. ‘My riff-gun was jammed’ Patton Oswald. I need a plan or a goal while I’m here. I’m stuck on this island and I’m not alone. More walks please, more excercise. Wim returned and that’s cool.

Day 7

22:40 Carlos the little monkey with the conspiracy theories. I’m getting back into using my phone again, and a little bit of porn too. It was very tiring day today. Wim and I went for a walk, we went to the abdij where Orval beer is made but we didn’t go in. We got personal, talked about heavy, personal stuff. I can’t say that it did much for me. I still feel like a sense of self, or bottom or ground is missing, and that’s ok, that’s just the kind of guy I am. We worked a lot and I felt so lazy, so tired. We are working something like 35 hours a week. I haven’t worked this much in a long time, it’s more work than I expected obviously. The weather was good, new groups have arrived and I find myself eyeing the ladies. I make a lot of jokes and everyone laughs at them it’s almost too easy. Acceptance. Nature. Hide away, dancing. 5 rhythm dancing. Dance to Maastricht. I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know. Bert used to live in Costa Rica. He’s so at ease with himself it’s crazy. He says it’s all about being in the body, and dancing and yoga and some meditation. Wim must feel overshadowed a little, I still really enjoy playing the piano, I still feel the need to be an entertainer or performer of some kind. Do your best forget the rest, thanks for coming.

Day 8

00:15 Im beat, what a day. I feel tired and immature. The asshole social worker. We cleaned today, the entire kitchen. It was a time of laziness, and work and seriousness. I, getting fatter over here. The American cook showed up. And a very young couple. And the bosss and his hens. The American cook is called Mark or Marc and he comes acrosss like a healthy and capable man with an eye for the ladies. His wife or girlfriend also seems nice. I met a very nice girl today called Sophie, me and Wim had a drink with her. It’s good to be here, good to be in the real world. On Tuesday I get my day off, I guess the only thing I’m planning to do is rest. Wim and I are getting closer, lots of laughs and stuff. I feel small and inadequate right now and it’s uncomfortable, but I’ll breathe into it, accept it,  have it down the whole. I think you can do a lot with it but maybe never fully get used to it. Or something? I coughed a lot, I have a slight hangover now. I’m still impressed with this Sophie girl I just met. She seems so nice. I feel fat. Stick to your principals.

Day 9 

00:05 Camp fire singing. I should count my blessings. I feel a bit like a coward but I guess I should be proud that I sang. I lost my center, but that’s ok, everything is ok. Lots of laughs with Wim, I’m going to miss that dude. Staring at Melissa’s legs a lot. Cooking in the kitchen, with Mark and his pleasant wife. Mark is not a Buddhist, but he respects them. I felt intense shame while trying my best to play guitar. I want to frame it differently though, I want to quantify it coz I want to pass through it. Pass through the eye of the storm, it’s so nice on the other side, I’m sure of it. Sophie is so nice, I haven’t met a girl that nice in a while. Feels like I keep holding back, but beating myself up over it doesn’t make it better, doesn’t change anything. I woke up late and missed most of breakfast. I was in a lousy mood. Wim offered to do my dishes. There are so many people here, it’s non-stop interaction, at times it gets a bit much. I took a nap today and passed out almost immediately. I feel embarrassed by my weight. A new volunteer arrived in heels. Katy the 19 year old girl stood very close to me when i did something on my phone. Marks music is a bit boring in the kitchen. Wim and I shared many laughs, he’s a good guy. He cracks me up, I’m lucky to have him here. It’s good to be random, it’s good to not make sense, it’s a way to shake it all off. Inside of me is a child that wants to be let out. It wants light and air and to be seen, but he doesn’t feel safe. He’s embarrassed and ashamed and doesn’t feel good enough, but it’s the closest to something real I’ll ever feel. Jeff is a really nice, sincere, honest dude. I like him. But I gotto be real, if I don’t care I don’t care. Life I can be tough, so confusing at times. But I’m here, I’m doing this, I’m a alive, I laugh a lot, I accept.

Day 10

23:15 The skies were gray today. Wim left for the second time and he took Thomas with him. I was having a bad day until I took a nap and did some journaling. I walked down the road by myself and sat some of the crappy but charming neighbourhood housing. I’m eating less and less and I feel great right now. All this vegan food, no meat for almost 2 weeks. I feel looser today, happy to be around Wim and Jeff, happy to talk bullshit, more in a flow. Out there the air is thick with rain air, and tents are scattered across the grass bellow me. Mark is a nice guy but I notice we all get a bit more serious when he’s around us. It’s interesting to note that. I’ve been travelling with my dick in my pocket, I made a move on one of the girls here and I plan on subtly making moves on Katy, or whatever her name is, which is kind of gross of me. I should be ashamed of myself.. but enough about me, I was just following my dick. It feels good to be here though, I’m going to miss it. I’m glad I met Wim and plan to see him when I get back to Antwerp to talk more bullshit, etc etc. ALl these interactions can get a bit much. Melissa is so serious. The energy is good here.

Day 11

00:50 Nothings wrong I don’t get it. Hootchie girl, tease, this is. It going as planned. I strummed my guitar like a beast, leaflets on the floor. Better tomorrow. This is silly. This is silly, I care and I don’t care because I do t know what the heck I’m doing. I just want to stand for something in life. That’s all she said, the importance of being strong and saying something. I’m welcome back anytime. The bird is here, on the roof, performing for god knows who. Unable to break through, because no one ever gave him permission to. That’s sad but dead, gotto get the scream out of my system. I’m glad for you but not excited, we want the same things only different. Artists inside,  but vague in what we want. You’re tall, I’m tall, let’s make babies, let’s quit smoking. I lied to you actually. I’m not hurt, not going in some direction. Taking the piles a day at a time. William Prine, bathroom break. Big butt girl called Anoek, soft eyes, another girl under my belt, I feel gross about it , leaning into the fear is like leaning into the sun. we sat around a fire today, we played songs. Sophie leaned against me until our backs became uncomfortable. The smoke in my hair, the smoke in all of ours. I tried to be brave, I was brave, I sang the best I could. Now is not the time, my defence mechanism is cunning and baffling, I relate to it. I would rather have nothing that be a shaky leaf trying to ‘score’, I feel embarrassed and ashamed and I seek re-assurance. It’s ok toadman, see you at the breakfast table. DAY 13

4:00 I don’t understand what happened. Caily contacted me and told me she was raped by Mark. The American cook I liked. I don’t understand. I don’t feel much, just inklings of some confusion. I’m unable to let this idea sink in property. Raped?? Mark the guy I spent 5 days with raped a 19 year old girl?? Threatened her with a knife?? I don’t understand, this doesn’t compute with me. Caily is a wonderful person, sweet, real, authentic. She contacted me, we chatted for hours. I hope she’s ok, even though I don’t know what to feel. I tired to just keep her company, be there for her. I’m trying to think what I would do if I saw him. He might have ruined a 19 year old girls life.. she’s numb right now and traumatised. This is the world we live in. People who are innocent and real get preyed on by predators it seems. They have their innocence taken away. Caily is one of the most innocent and authentic girls I’ve ever met. So incredibly naive in a way. This man preyed on that if this really happened. I hope she’s ok. I hope she’s able to live fully again. I hope she’s able to process all this, to trust again.

Day 14 conclusions and shit

T’was a perfectly imperfect trip. The conclusion rests in the balance of: I had a really enjoyable time, I’m glad that I went there. As I sit in black shorts and shoes with holes in them on a bench in Antwerp, Orval seems pretty far away already. But it’s cool. I’m not yet sure what to  make about the ending though. A girl might have been raped. I think she was raped because she’s at the police right now. On the last day we did a big clean of the kitchen, the 2nd one during my stay. Sofie was with is helping in the kitchen, chopping onions and doing a splendid job. I was tired from the night before, the third night of building a camp fire and playing sharades and some songs. We gathered the fire wood ourselves, firewood that spat and crackled and carried a few ticks. Caily was with us. We had so much fun. And Jef. Oh how I remeber that night, it was like it was yesterday, or the day before yesterday, which it was. A little sprinkler water to cool us off, we dragged Melissa through the snow, coughing and spitting and giggling like a happy school child. We did good and we did her good

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND September 6, 2019  - LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE,  SUPER SIZE ME 2: HOLY CHICKEN! and IT: CHAPTER TWO

Lots of COLONS -- there, you happy Edward Havens? :) -- in this week’s featured movies, huh?

Although summer still has a couple weeks left according to a couple of my co-workers, the fall movie season officially starts this weekend, but before we get to the wide releases, I want to talk about the fantastic doc LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE (Greenwich Entertainment), which opens at New York’s Film Forum on Friday. Directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, this movie really surprised me, because I never considered myself a fan of Ronstandt, despite listening to a lot of AM Top 40 radio in the ‘70s – yes, I was alive back then. I know I don’t look it, but I’m old.

This movie gave me goosebumps hearing Ronstadt at the beginning of her career, the archival footage of her performances making it blatantly obvious how talented she was and why she became so popular, something that wasn’t nearly as evident hearing songs like “Blue Bayou” on the radio.  What’s even more amazing about Ronstadt is that I didn’t hear about much of her work in the ‘80s, as she started doing more unconventional things like honoring the traditional Mexican music of her father. I mean, she was just an amazing artist but she started drifting away as MTV made major stars out of much less-talented singers. And then of course, there’s the Parkinson’s Disease that made it impossible for her to sing and kudos to the filmmakers for actually catching a rare singing moment with her family. This movie honestly got me quite teary-eyed as it went along, because you watch this amazing talent having her greatest asset taken away from her by this horrible illness.

Anyway, this is another music doc that I highly recommend checking out if it plays at a theater near you as it continues a long run of solid music docs we’ve been getting so far this year. (Oddly, David Crosby was supposed to be in this movie, too, but I don’t remember seeing him in it, but saw his credit at the end. Weird.)

Another doc opening in New York, L.A. and Chicago before expanding further on Sept. 13 is Morgan Spurlock’s SUPER SIZE ME 2: HOLY CHICKEN!... and yes, the irony of Spurlock still calling his movie something that includes the words “Me, too” in it is a little more than ironic, since it was the movement that took him down just a few weeks after the movie premiered at the Toronto Film Festival (which is where I first saw it). But honestly, Spurlock took himself out, as he came forward and admitted a few things from his own past, which basically got the movie dropped by YouTube Red, who had just bought it. Two years later and I’m not sure how I feel about the movie, but when I saw it back then, I thought it was a worthy successor to Spurlock’s Oscar-nominated film. This time around, Spurlock wants to set up a healthier fast food option, choosing a chicken sandwich place but also wanting to stick to some of the guidelines by making the chickens organic and free-range, something that he finds is more difficult than he initially thinks.

I generally like Morgan Spurlock’s docs, which generally includes himself as a personality, similar to the work of his peer Michael Moore, but Spurlock doesn’t always make super-serious docs and always keeps him mind on the entertainment aspect of going to the movies, and in that sense Super Size Me 2 is as entertaining as some of his past films.

Super Size Me 2 is opening at the Cinema Village in New York and Laemmle Music Hall in L.A. on Friday.

The only new wide release this weekend is New Line/Warner Bros’ IT: CHAPTER TWO, which I’m sure I’ll be writing about a lot over at The Beat, so go click on those links so that they’ll continue hiring me to write more stuff! You can read my review here and an interview with actor James Ransone over at The Beat.

LIMITED RELEASES

Because it’s early September and there is a big wide release, there isn’t as much to talk about as far as limited releases.

Apparently, Janice Engel’s doc Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins (Magnolia) was released in Texas last weekend, which makes sense since that’s where journalist Molly Ivins is from, but it will open in New York and L.A. this weekend as well. I wasn’t as big a fan of this doc as the ones above just because Molly Ivins just felt like she was trying to do a stand-up comedy routine. In other words, the film lacked the depth I would have hoped from a political figure.

Chelsea Stardust’s Satanic Panic (RLJE Films), written by my good friends Grady Hendrix and Ted Geoghegan, that follows Hayley Griffith’s Sam, a pizza delivery driver whose last stop of the day is to a group of Satanists looking for someone to sacrifice. Yup, that sounds like something Grady and Ted (who wrote Ted’s second movie Mohawk) might come up with. So Sam must fend off witches and demonic creatures before she can end her shift. The film also stars Ruby Modine, Rebecca Romijn, Arden Myrin and Jerry O’Connell. It will be released in select theaters and On Demand Friday after premiering at the Overlook Film Festival and playing Fantasia in Montreal in July.

Two more movies opening at the Cinema Village(and other theaters) is Rowan Athale’s Strange but True (Lionsgate Premiere), a star-studded thriller based on John Searles’ novel, starring Margaret Qualley from Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood as the ex-girlfriend of a dead high schooler who shows up at his family’s house claiming that she’s pregnant with his child (five years after her boyfriend Ronnie’s death). Ronnie’s mother is played by the great Amy Ryan and brother by Nick Robinson, and the movie also stars Greg Kinnear, Brian Cox and Blythe Danner, which makes you wonder why this is being four-walled and most likely getting a typical Lionsgate Premiere VOD release.

Paul Taublieb’s doc Blink of an Eye (1091) is an inside look at the Daytona 500 in 2001, featuring Michael Waltrip and Dale Earnhardt Jr, and that’s about all I know about it. Waltrip is a perennial underdog who broke his 462-race losing streak just before the 2001 racing season, but when his best friend the older Dale Earnhardt crashes in the last lap of the Daytona 500, he steps up to race against Dale’s son, Dale Jr.

Opening at the Roxy Cinema in New York this week is Michael Oblowitz’s surfing doc Heavy Water, which follows surfer Nathan Fletcher, whose brother is credited for introducing punk rock skateboarding techniques to the sport. That’s about all I know about that one.

Since actor/filmmaker Justin Chon (The Twilight Sagaand Gook) will be in Toronto this weekend with Wayne Wang’s new movie (which is premiering there), he probably won’t be doing many opening weekend QnAs for his new movie Ms. Purple (Oscilloscope), which opens in L.A. at the Landmark Nuarton Friday and at the Quad in New York on Sept. 13. This one is a drama about a brother and sister (Teddy Lee and Tiffany Chu) who seemingly are stuck in Koreatown after being abandoned by their mother and raised by their father, who is dying. It sounds like a real hoot.

Opening in New York and L.A. is Simnon Hunter’s Edie (Music Box Films), starring 86-year-old legend Sheila Hancock as a widow about to be forced into  retirement home for her last days but wanting to do one last climbing trip before she dies.

The Bollywood film Chhichhore(FIP), directed by Nitesh Tiwari (Dangal), will also open on Friday in top markets, taking place in a hostel filled with interesting and unique characters who go on a journey together.

Coming to theaters for one night only (i.e. Thursday) is Melanie Martinez’s musical K-12 (Abramorama/Atlantic) about a girl named Cry Baby who is sent to a disturbing sleepaway school where she is bullied until she finds a friend who helps her fight against the Principal and his “wicked staff.” I haven’t seen this but having suffered through Slaughterhouse Rulez I’m slightly dubious.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

Not local, but the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) starts this week. It’s my favorite film festival on the world (after maybe Oxford) but I can’t afford to go for a second year in a row, so instead of writing about it, I’m just gonna spend the next week and a half sulking and writing about other things. L

REPERTORY

Since it’s September, a new month and a movie season, I’m welcoming a new addition to this section…

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

I went to see Hitchcock’s Vertigo in 70mm over the past and saw that they’re starting to do a lot more rep. programs tying to upcoming new releases by directors like Pedro Almodovar and Bong Joon-ho, so I’m going to start including some of their screenings and hoping they won’t disappoint me like the New Bev has the last few months. (And hopefully I can include the brand-new L.A. Drafthouse soon, as well.) The problem is that very often, the rep screenings might sell out before I have a chance to write about them, similar to the New Bev, actually.

Much of the Alamo’s rep programming happens on weekdays at 9:30 PM, but as I mentioned, they have some interesting fall series planned.

This week’s “Weird Wednesday” is Drop Dead Fred (1991), starring Rik Mayall of “Young Ones” fame. Monday’s “Video Vortex” is the 1943 Bollywood horror film Son of Dracula, and next Tuesday’s “Terror Tuesday” is the original found footage horror film The Blair Witch Project from 1999. (There’s a free screening of Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of CherbourgWeds night for Alamo Victory members but it’s already sold out.)

METROGRAPH (NYC):

I never thought the Metrograph would bring back its initial charter “A to Z” program with more offerings but sure enough, this week begins Welcome To Metrograph: Redux! On Thursday, it begins with John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 from 1976 and continues Saturday with Ján Kadár’s The Angel Levinefrom 1970. I have never heard of Paulin Soumanou Vieyra but clearly, the programmers at the Metrograph have as they’re playing two shorts programs as well as his 2019 movie Testimony on Sunday and Monday. Also, the Metrograph will continue showing off its love for Anime with a regular engagement for the late Satoshi Kon’s Millennium Actress (2001) after showing Paprika and Perfect Blue the last couple weeks. (You can still see Perfect Blue and Paprika on Thursday, as well as Roehmer’s Le Rayon Vert and Goddard’s Pierrot Le Fou.)  This week’s Late Nites at Metrograph  is René Laloux’s animated Fantastic Planet (1973). Kinda esoteric, no? Playtime: Family Matinees  is Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (2001), so a little more mainstream for the kiddies. Also, some of the Shaw Sisters movies continues through the weekend, and I can recommend both Puppy Love and Starry is the Night, two of my favorites from the series.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

“Marty and Jay’s Double Features” ends on Thursday, so your last options are William Holden’s The Counterfeit Traitor (1962) and Slightly Scarlet  (1956) on Wednesday and Sanjit Ray’s The Music Room  (1958) /Il Post (1961) or Voyage to Italy (1954) and Vincento Minnelli’s The Long, Long Trailer (1954), starring Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz on Thursday. Joseph Losey’s 1976 Holocaust drama Mr. Klein, the filmmaker’s first French film after being blacklisted in Hollywood, will be screened on DCP starting Friday. Also, “Film Forum Jr.” is BACK this weekend with Buster Keaton’s Our Hospitality  (1923)on Saturday and Sunday morning with live piano accompaniment.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Egyptian going a bit esoteric this week with “A Short Series about Krzysztof Kieslowski” (which I won’t even try to pronounce), dedicated to the filmmaker behind the famed “Three Colors” trilogy, which will screen (all three chapters!) on Sunday evening. On Thursday, there’s a double feature of A Short Film about Loveand A Short Film about Killing, both from 1988, and they’re both under 90 minutes so no lie in the title. Friday is a double feature of The Double Life of Veronique (1991) and 1981’s Blind Chance.

AERO  (LA):

This week begins the French Noir series “The French Had a Name for it 5” with a number of double features. On Thursday, there’s Quai es Orfèvres (1947) and The Sleeping Car Murder  (1965), Friday is Maigret and the St. Fiacre Case  (1959) and Port du Desire (1955) and Saturday is René Clement’s Purple Noon from 1960 and a double feature of Melodie en Sous-Sol (1962) and The Sicilian Clan  (1969). If it isn’t obvious, I haven’t seen any of them, but I have seen John Waters’ Pink Flamingos, which is the Aero’s Friday night midnight movie. Sunday’s French noir double feature is 1946’s Paniqueand 1947’s Non Coupable. “Heptember Matinees” continues on Tuesday with Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in Adam’s Rib from 1949.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

Friday begins a new series called “Sci-Fi Visionary: Piotr Szulkin”  showing six of the Polish filmmakers films beginning with 1980’s Golemand 1981’s War of the Worlds: Next Century. They’ll also be showing a new 4k restoration of George Nierenberg’s 1982 music documentary Say Amen, Somebody (Milestone Films) about American gospel music starting Friday with QnAs and choir performances following screenings on Friday and Saturday.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Beginning Weds, the IFC Center will screen the new 4k restoration of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986), a movie that I feel it’s been showing as part of its midnight series for months… but if I get to this week’s offerings, and there’s the same bullshit I’ve seen every single week, I’m moving this down to the bottom of the rep section. This weekend’s Weekend Classics: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is John Singleton’s 1995 dramas Higher Learning starring Laurence Fishburne, chosen by “Kashif” and “Marilyn,” while Waverly Midnights: Staff Picks Summer 2019 is Scorsese’s 1999 film Bringing out the Dead (chosen by “Luke”), starring Nicolas Cage.Okay, at least this week’s Late Night Favorites: Summer 2019 is Satoshi Kon’s 2006 movie Paprika (2006), which the Metrograph has been playing for weeks, so I’ll spare the IFC Center from punishment … for now.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

On Friday night, the museum is showing Douglas Trumbull’s 1983 sci-fi thriller Brainstorm in 70mm, and then on Saturday and Sunday, its showing It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World and Spielberg’s Ready Player One, also in 70mm.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

On Thursday, the Roxy is showing Jonathan Demme’s Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense, and then on Saturday and Sunday, it’s showing the Apocalypse Now 40thAnniversary Final Cut.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This week’s Friday midnight is Tommy Wiseau’s The Room… again. YAWN.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Here I was going to give Tarantino the benefit of the doubt that he’d be back to rep programming in Sept. but why do your job as a programmer when you can just play your latest film and make just as much or more money? Sure, it’s playing The Postman Always Rings Twice from 1946 as the Wednesday matinee the original Disney The Parent Trap (1961), starring Hayley Mills, as the weekend KIDDEE MATINEE. And I do love P.T. Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love, which is playing as the Monday matinee. But otherwise, it’s all Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood all the time. (I guess the Saturday midnight movie is Reservoir Dogs at least?) For this infraction, the New Beverly is being moved to the VERY BOTTOM of this section as punishment, yes, even below the Nuart’s midnight screening.

(NOTE: As of now, it doesn’t seem like the Quad Cinema or BAM in Brooklyn have any new repertory screenings this weekend.)

Next week, the wide releases are STX’s Hustlers and Warners’ The Goldfinch, plus I hear Jillian Bell’s Brittany Runs a Marathon will be expanding even wider. I’ll cover most of those over at The Beat, but I’m sure I’ll have stuff to write about here as well.

[kayntestblog-blog]

                                            𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀

                      ❝𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝘩𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑒𝑝.❞

HELLO EVERYONE! I AM TOO excited to be here, so I won’t ramble too much. But y’all can feel free to call me anything at all, I don’t mind, but my alias is M, and I live in the GMT time zone. If you’d like to plot, please give this post a little ♥ and I will hit you up to do just that! I appreciate y’all reading ♡

{ AKANISHI JIN, THIRTY-FOUR, MALE } ☾ - KAYN KIMURA has been seen walking around town. Hazelgrove is familiar of the THIRTY-FOUR year old ALPHA WEREWOLF OF THE TIMBERWOOD PACK as HE is IN FAVOR OF  restoring the town’s Glamour spell. The people of Hazelgrove can agree that the TATTOO ARTIST/PARLOUR OWNER can be PROTEAN yet still be VINDICTIVE. Let’s just hope something can be settled before the town is turned upside town. + messy man buns, ripped and worn jeans and the scent of sandalwood.

                                                                𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

TW: brief mentions of infidelity, abuse, murder & death

Kayn is the result of an affair, and was born and raised in Mizuho, Tokyo, Japan, on July 4th, 1984.

His mother Hana Okano, an Alpha and her husband Taizō Yamada, a human, met and married right out of high school.

His real father, Takao Kimura was a prominent business man in the area, and Alpha of his mothers rival pack.

Growing up, Kayn was constantly pitted against his older brother of two years, Kaito.

Taizō favoured his biological son over Kayn, and as a result, took every opportunity possible to torture him.

He would beat Kayn with silver chains, leaving scarring on his back that he’s ashamed of to this day. Poison his weakened body with wolfsbane and conceal him in his basement bedroom the second he returned from school.

His mother turned a blind eye to her youngest sons plight, believing the beatings were punishment for her extramarital affair.

His real father Takao, knew of Kayn’s existence, but not of his daily suffering. He also had a family of his own.

Everything eventually came to a head one evening when his step-father and brother—who was just as bad as his dad at this point—were beating Kayn senseless in his room.

Kayn was sixteen, and instead of cowering like he normally would, he lashed out and fought back.

Under a full moon, the purebred Alpha shifted, transforming into his lycan self and tearing the pair to pieces.

Taizō survived the attack and withdrew a gun containing silver bullets, aimed at Kayn and fired.

The shot missed by mere inches, and sent Kayn bolting from the room, still in wolf form.

From the very second paws met the sidewalk, he knew he’d been positively exiled from his former family.

Homeless and alone, Kayn went from day to day, scraping by on what little cash and food he managed to obtain.

He busked to get by, before eventually selling the art he’d managed to perfect in the countless hours he spent alone in his bedroom.

He did well too. Within weeks he was living between hostels and hotels, and actively seeking work.

It wasn’t long before he was offered an apprenticeship at a local tattoo parlour, and began earning enough to rent a small apartment in downtown Tokyo.

On the day of his twenty first birthday, a card arrived in the mail, containing a cheque from his real father, Takao. He’d heard about the incident at the Yamada home, and wanted to help his son out in any way he could.

He wanted to tear the cheque up and forget all about his previous life, but he couldn’t, he needed the money. And it was a lot. More than he’d ever imagined seeing in his whole life.

Since Tokyo no longer felt like home, and after a little research, Kayn decided to leave him homeland in search of something better.

Through the grapevine, he heard about Hazelgrove in Maine, and set out to build a life for himself there.

Kayn settled in very quickly. His English, which was sufficient before, only grew better with time. Within the first year, he was pretty much fluent.

From there, he sought citizenship, purchased an abandoned and rundown building, and set up his tattoo parlour, Ink Addicts. He lives in the apartment upstairs.

Over the next couple of years, Kayn gained the respect of his fellow wolves, and was soon leading the Timberwood Pack.

He firmly believes that the glamour spell should be restored.

After living among mortals in Tokyo, he thinks supernatural beings should live in their own little world. It makes things easier for everyone involved, and Kayn is very much about keeping the peace.

He is a firm, but fair Alpha.

To this day, he is tortured by guilt over the death of his brother.

                                                   𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

If you don’t see a fitting connection, hit me up and we will create out own unique one.

BEST FRIEND: This person would likely be Kayn’s Beta. He’d have shared pretty much everything with them, and would therefore feel like he could trust them more than most. They would be more like the real sibling he never had, than a simple friend.

SIBLINGS: The biological siblings from his real fathers pack. They would be of Japanese descent.

CONFIDANT: Besides his bestie, Kayn feels like he can go to this person whenever he needs to talk about something personal, and knows they will listen, without judging him. He does the same for them in return.

BAND MEMBERS: More information can be found here.

YOUNGER WOLF: A wolf who isn’t pack, but that Kayn has taken under his wing, helping them find their feet and trying to guide them on the right path in life. It’s a possibility they currently live with him.

MATE: ( requires chemistry ) The one person Kayn knew was out there the whole time, but who he figured would want nothing to do with him. He’d be fiercely protective of his mate, going above and beyond for them, even while attempting to keep his distance. He’d hold off with them, until the very last second, the fear of reaching for something more and losing everything in the end, very strong.

FORMER LOVER/S: Someone Kayn dated at least a couple of years ago. Happy to plot this as a positive or negative connection.

RECENT ONE-NIGHT-STAND: He isn’t one for casual sex, but this happened after a heavy night of drinking. Open to starting this plot the morning after, as well as a good few days/weeks later. It can be as awkward, funny, embarrassing as you like. They can be friends, enemies, frenemies or strangers. Down for whatever here!

RIVAL: Whether it be as a wolf, a tattoo artist, or a performer, these two just cannot get along. They always have to try and outdo one another in every aspect of their lives. But despite everything, they both really enjoy the challenge.

EMPLOYEES: Staff that work here, at Ink Addicts with Kayn.

TUTEE: Someone Kayn is teaching guitar, piano or Japanese to.

GOOD/BAD INFLUENCE: These people are either good or bad for Kayn, and because of them he’s always making the best/worst decisions. They are the angel and devil on his shoulder.

NEIGHBOURS: The people who have to suffer through Kayn’s noisy lifestyle. Whether it be strumming, singing or listening to music at stupid o’clock in the morning, or the casual parties he has on occasion, these people really have to go through it. Maybe they’re friends, or perhaps mortal enemies.

DRINKING BUDDY: When Kayn needs to let his hair down, and get his party on, he goes to this person and the pair paint the town crimson. Sometimes the party lasts from the weekend, well into midweek.

GYM BUDDY: If he needs to get his workout on, Kayn hits the gym with this person, and gets the exercise with them around, encouraging him.

[nicoladoeschina]

Old Friends and New Beginnings: October 19-26

There’s something about being in transit that allows me to relax.

The work and planning that got me here are in the bank. What’s waiting on the other side, for the time being, will have to do exactly that – wait.  

In transit, all that’s left to do is be still.

My favorite thing to do on an airplane is take off into a dream. With my sleep mask on and eyes at ease during taxi, my mind listlessly flits between thoughts that seem to become slower and less interesting until sleep overcomes my consciousness as we ascend into the clouds.

When we’re almost there, I’m at once hesitant and ready. The sleepy interim sanctuary is coming to a close. I know that once we hit the ground, it’s game time.

I’m ready though. All the motions are familiar and ingrained like muscle memory. No matter where I’m arriving- old place, new place, or completely alien environment- the process is the same – collect my belongings, make my way through the hoops and past the hawkers, and successfully get a connection “home.”

What makes this step different than transit? It’s active. You have to put your brain to work. The short bursts come swiftly and require adept attention and skill.

Transit is passive – you’re passing from one place to the next with no involvement. In surrendering control you have two choices: stress or peace. I choose peace. Unless I have hold my bladder the whole time...which isn’t the case on an airplane or a train, thankfully :)

Anyway! So I’ve arrived back in China after a very extended and wonderful holiday!

6 weeks in Central Asia where I found bliss in beauty – natural, historical, interpersonal, and inside myself  

And 8 weeks at home in New York where I fell in love with my roots – my family, my friends of old, and my hometown

All these experiences came together to buttress my deep appreciation for that all I have and what is yet to come.

Upon the rock solid foundation of my upbringing, I have gathered the building blocks for the life I want to lead and have arrived at the next adventure that will continue to help me build the tower. #BurjDubai. #Rowing #Ryan

SO ... let me finally dive right in to what’s been unfolding in these two weeks since I touched back down in China!

I hit the ground running. That is, until exiting the airport express where it took me 30 mins to get a taxi from Dongzhimen to Dongsishitiao...a 5 min drive but on a Friday night at 10pm... anyway I finally nabbed a black cab and shuffled my way through the hutongs to my hostel where I promptly fell asleep.

Since before departure, I packed my Saturday schedule with friend meet-ups. So starting Saturday morning I was whizzing around Beijing.

At 7:30am I was on the subway down to Chongwenmen to see the Doc at 8! He met me wearing an old-fashioned Mao shirt and hat, hot bowl in hand, to pick up some breakfast. We made our way to a bustling local breakfast joint where he collected the yums. At his home, we of course had tea with Tracy, and caught up about our summer holidays. We even munched on pomegranates. As he’s a busy Doc with a loaded schedule, by 9:30am I was headed out in a cab with the two large suitcases I had stored at his house all summer.

At 10am, I was back at my hostel and starting on the task of trying to downsize my possessions. As anyone can imagine, this was harder than it seemed! I only managed to put 3 sweaters into the donate pile, and sealed everything back up, unimpressed with my will power.

At 10:30, I set off on a bike to meet my now former-roommate, Emmie, for coffee in Dongzhimen. We had a really nice time! My salted caramel latte at Wagas actually had some pepper sprinkled on it too?! Very pleasant surprise. Anyway, Emmie and I had a great chat catching up!

At 12pm, we were both off to our next plans. For me, that meant going to see beloved Berit! At 12:30 we met at Dongdan station and headed up to Jingsu for a vegetarian lunch. I’m talking lots of greens, pumkin & egg dumplings, and olive & veg dumplings! Yum! After lunch, we walked to her new hutong apartment – it’s lovely! – and then back to my hostel where we picked up my camera and strolled over to Ditan park to enjoy the fall foliage for the afternoon. We then looped back around to my hostel because I desperately needed her help trying to eliminate somethings... I would up donating to her some more sweaters and hats. Still, not enough to really consider it downsizing, but hey, I tried! We hugged goodbye and I was off to the next meet up.

At 7pm, I was in a taxi headed up to campus to meet Phil from Ghana. He oh-so-graciously agreed to keep some of my luggage in his room while I’m in Hohhot for training. So I brought with me one large suitcase and my osprey backpack. Once we settled the stuff, we went for a walk out of east gate –which has totally changed! They shut down a lot of the thriving restaurants in favor of some weird artistic face-lift? Definitely government mandated. If that had taken place while I was a student... Tom and I would’ve committed mutiny, I swear it! Anyway, we grabbed some fruit and took a bench at the pond to admire the ducks and delve into some deep convo about China, life, and politics. Yeah!

At 9:30pm, I set off to meet Dennis! This meet-up was last minute because Emmie had conveniently told me Dennis was back in Beijing and I got so excited that I demanded he make time for me, and it worked JIt took me literally 30 minutes walking from campus to find a functioning OFO (I will dive into this later because the bike sharing industry fascinates me). Anyway, I eventually got on a bike and made my way to Boxing Cat! Boxing Cat is a famous brewery in Shanghai that recently opened in Beijing, and they were holding a grand opening party ... which I’ve since found out is there ump-teenth “grand opening” since July. But it was so great seeing Dennis! It had been 2 years since he left Beijing – coincidently I went to his going-away party just as I arrived to start my masters! It’s great that he’s back!! I love catching up with old friends!!!!!

Berit and Dennis are my friends back from 2013 and I will love on them forever <3

So that was my amazing amazing Saturday. It is incredibly rare for all of these people from different parts of my life to have free time exactly at the right time! I am so grateful for all the people in my life and for the blessings of planning :)

Sunday morning I was off to the airport at 6am to catch my 9am flight to Hohhot. Unfortunately, I didn’t check the baggage allowance, and wound up having to pay 240$ USD for my second big bag. Oh well, there was nothing I could do! Hopefully I will get that money reimbursed by the company.. fingers crossed!

I arrived in Hohhot to a LOT of smog and a LOT of gray and a LOT of construction. During my cab ride from the airport to my hostel, I could see that nearly every road in Hohhot is under construction... at the SAME TIME. They are simultaneously putting in the subway (2 lines), and elevated highways with beams reaching up in the middle of the major N/S and E/W roadways. It’s a nightmare, really.

But my hostel turned out to be a DREAM. It’s brand new, and beautiful. And there was even a beaming golden angel waiting in the lobby for pets! I was in heaven. Even more so when I got to my room and showered and got into bed for a much needed rest.

At 2pm, I communicated with my HR person about the housing situation for the next few months. She informed me that the other foreigner they hired (girl from Indonesia) had just secured a place in a good location, and that it actually had another vacant room. So I got in touch with her (Zhen Zhen) and planned to head over later in the afternoon to see the place.

At 4pm, I got into a taxi to meet Zhen Zhen and see the apartment. It was a very modest room in a big shared apartment of 7 rooms total, 1 bathroom (well kept), and no kitchen. The apartment is a 20 minute walk from Yili’s training school. At first I was a bit skeptical because I hadn’t seen any other apartments, but ZhenZhen and I came to the conclusion that it was the best option. Which it was! I signed the contract on the spot. My rent is 550 yuan per month. That is 80$ USD! Amazing!!!!!

The low-down from ZhenZhen about our new job was invaluable and I will explain it here.

Firstly, remember how I said Yili had hired 3 Malay, 3 Indo, and 1 American (me) for this pilot-year International Management Trainee program? Well, turns out it’s only me and ZhenZhen. The others either didn’t accept the offer, or initially accepted it until they found out they’d be training in Hohhot for three months. So Zhen Zhen and I are the only two foreigners – the first that Yili has ever hired!

Secondly, this training is LEGIT training. We have several weeks of classes in Yili’s training school where we will learn every facet of their business, culture, systems, and strategy, after which we have an internship rotation in Yili’s factories for two months – which will include 8-hour day shifts, and 13-hour night shifts – in every stage of production from lab work to packaging to shipment. In the factories we will be only observing, but the goal is that we will become very familiar with every aspect of their products from start to finish.

WHAT? Yeah that’s exactly what I said. But I’m so pumped for it.

On Monday morning, we were set to go to headquarters to meet our bosses. It turned out that we were to meet THE boss, the BIG boss, THE milk man himself.

So what do you know, on my first day I got to personally meet the CEO, one-on-one.

He’s a really nice guy! He had my resume in front of him, and we had a nice chat! As it happens, his brother’s son is attending GW in the school of business! My alma mater! Very cool coincidence. Then, it also turns out that his daughter is studying at Fairfield University in CT, and that he himself regularly goes to Stamford and Westport not only on business but for health reasons – ie, relaxing in the nature. Stamford is where my aunt lives, and it’s only 45 mins from my house! Another very cool coincidence! And then he said that he wants to take me to America to meet his family?! And asked for my WeChat and email?? It was so cool!

After the meet-and-greet, ZhenZhen and I had lunch at headquarters with one of the HR people, then got in a cab to the training school.

So there was a group of new hires that started their training back in July. About 60 Chinese hires. While Zhen Zhen and I are just beginning, they are just wrapping up. Fortunately, we had this week as overlap in the classes. They were all really sweet! Mostly girls – out of the 60 there were only 7 boys. No clear reason why, but no matter. Everyone was really really nice!

Class that afternoon went way over my head. What I learned is that there is a difference between understanding conversational Mandarin and understanding academic classroom Mandarin – where they not only use a plethora of vocab that I don’t know, but they also speak a mile a minute! I kind of just sat in awe and wrap attention trying to pick out some things. Thankfully, there was a powerpoint – a life saver!

Around 4:30pm, tiredness came over me like I’ve never been tired before. It was only then that I felt jet-lag. I knew I had been waking up very early, but other than that I felt great. Until that point. I had only arrived on Friday night, and it was only Monday afternoon – but it felt like I’d been back forever, and SO much had happened already! So when class ended at 5pm, I had to turn down invitations for dinner with the new friends. I had to. I have learned from experience, where I’ve tried to power through, that I can’t do it and only wind up becoming the subject of attention/pity at my pitifully lackluster tired state. So I bowed out and went to sleep immediately when my head hit the pillow around 6pm.

On Tuesday morning, I had to move out of my hostel and finally move into my new room! That meant taking a taxi around 7am to the apartment, dropping my bags, and immediately heading out to the training school. It was smooth going, thankfully.

At 8:30am Tuesday morning I had a meeting with the headmaster of the training school to go over the training program in brief. He is really nice! He explained to me the course that the other group had taken – first, they had military training for 2 weeks, then they completed their factory rotations for 2 months, and now they were wrapping up their 3 weeks of classes, and were all preparing for their small group presentations (to be held in Beijing) the following Tuesday. He informed me that Zhen Zhen and I were to follow the same program, though in a different order. He also mentioned that she and I’s training might vary in length, but he didn’t elaborate after that.

You can imagine that I was pumped and also saying what the fuck. Classes? Factory rotation? Cool! But military training?! I’m a foreigner??? What?!

So let me unpack this. China does not have conscription. However, in middle school, high school, university, and at some companies, every student must complete military training – which involves waking up at 5am to do exercise, drills, walking in step, and so on. The headmaster told me that the purpose for this is to teach everyone how to endure hardship and to ingrain the fundamentals of teamwork.

I get that. But still, I’m foreign? Logic? Anyway, it turns out that either I misheard him (even though I’m pretty certain he did tell me we’d have to do it earlier than later because of the impending cold weather) or the plans changed – because once the training school coordinator sent Zhen Zhen and I our schedule, it was obvious that we were booked through mid-January with no sign of military training. Yes!

At 9am, class beguns and I was off to scribbling down every word I didn't know in my notebook. Still, the speaker’s pace is way over my head but the PowerPoint is excellent. Bless.

At 12:30pm we got released for lunch. There is a cafeteria in the building where we all eat for freeeeee! Yes! I get to know more of the fellow students. Again, they’re all splendidly sweet! Feeling good.

At 1:30pm we started our next class. More ferocious note taking. I’m learning a LOT.

At 5pm we are finished for the day. I received a WeChat message from the CEO’s assistant, asking that I give her a call. What?! So I did. She’s very sweet. Her English is flawless. She wanted to tell me that if I need anything at all, I can reach out to her. She also wanted to get my feeling about going to the United States to work for Yili. I told her that after completing my training in Hohhot that I want to get experience working in their Beijing office for at least 6 months to really get to know the company before making any move home. But ultimately, I told her, she and the CEO are the boss and I’ll do what is needed of me, of course!

At 5:30pm I went to dinner with Zhen Zhen and the girls at our table for dry-pot and other yums. It was delish and I was NOT exhausted! Yes!

That night I started putting all the new vocab words into Quizlet. The best study tool! I love it! The data-entry at the beginning is tedious of course, but then the website itself has so many ways to learn and practice your new words. It is a dream.

I hit my pillow early again, as expected. It’s a good routine! Though definitely still the product of jet-lag.

I realized that given the time I going to spend in my room – I am definitely in desperate need for new bedding and furnishings. The hard lousy pillows and ugly sheets and blanket stink of smoke. Furthermore, there is no storage space for my clothes.

On Wednesday morning when I woke at 5am, I took to Baopals in search of new furnishings. My accumulated total for furnishing upgrades came to over twice my rent for this little room, but it’s a very worthy investment! Especially because my rent is so cheap :) and there’s not much to do here...

The location of the training school is in the west part of Hohhot, approximately 30 minutes in a taxi (on the highway) from the downtown area. It is conveniently a 20-minute walk to the training school. (The headquarters is another 40 min cab west of my place) 

But there’s nothing around us to DO. Yes, there’s every kind of Chinese restaurant and food store and express shipment store, etc. 

But in terms of activities? None. Literally none. And it’s cold outside. And the roads outside of my complex look like this.

So I made it my mission to make my room amenable to the large amounts of time I’ll be spending in it – ie: cozy and comfy and very me!

Later in the morning, 8am, ZhenZhen and I walked to school together to meet an HR person that was to take us for another health exam, required of everyone going to the factory. The hospital was huge and new, in the tacky but cool Inner Mongolian style. Though it smelled of smoke and Chinese medicine. We had to do 3 procedures. 1) Blood sample, 2) In one of the the weirdest things I’ve done, we had to do a stool sample – neither Zhen Zhen or I could poop soooo we had to use a q-tip to get a butthole swab! Very traumatic LOL. And 3) we did a chest scan thing. I don’t know why every physical exam in China requires those, but maybe it’s because I don’t know what it is or does.. you just have to hug an x-ray looking machine. Anyway, the trip to the hospital was a quick laugh in the end, and we were back to class.

Class was easier to understand because I had been studying vocab all morning after completing my shopping. After all, in business, the same words keep coming back around too. Yes! I’m understanding more!

During lunchtime, ZhenZhen and I had the task of booking our train tickets to Beijing for our first short “business trip”! Because the big group is finishing their training, they are giving presentations in Beijing to leaders at the branch there, where they’ll soon start working full time. ZhenZhen and I made to go along for the ride, because, of course, it will be very valuable to listen! I was not complaining at all! We were set to leave on Friday at midnight, and come back on Wednesday. Let me break that down – Saturday, Sunday, and Monday FREE IN BEIJING, then Tuesday listening to presentations in the morning and a farewell conclusion party for the big group in the evening? For us, it was like we were being gifted at the beginning instead of the end! Literally, gifts..

Back to school. A different department head gives each lecture. So in the afternoon, we heard from the guy that ran Yili’s Olympic sponsorship committee! Admittedly, I didn’t understand much of what he said, but he was definitely a compelling speaker and from his PowerPoint I added a lot of new words to my vocabulary list.

After class ZhenZhen and I went home, where we chilled and slept.

Thursday morning I had to miss class about eCommerce platforms (my favorite topic, unfortunately) and go with Zhang Na to the government offices to register for social insurance and for my residency. It was great to have her handling everything and not having to be responsible for it myself! What a relief!

We finished around lunchtime, and went to pick up ZhenZhen for a special lunch! Zhang Na took us for ice lamb hotpot! Apparently, the ice in the hotpot makes the lamb take on a different flavor. They also add some yogurt and red alcohol to the broth. It was delicious! Though Zhang Na made us each eat way more than we would have liked... I wasn’t complaining :) 

That afternoon’s class was about sales channels. Lots of interesting stuff and new vocab.

Friday morning was our last class with the big group! The topic was about intellectual property rights in China, which I found incredibly interesting. The teacher was easy to understand and the topic very relevant. Happy Cola.

After class we took a big group photo. 

Then we all headed home to pack for Beijing!

By Friday evening, only two of the items for my room had arrived, but that was OK because it gave me a lot to look forward to upon my return from Beijing. Everything would be in by that point so I could decorate all at once! Score!

At 10:30pm, ZhenZhen and I headed out to Hohhot East Railway station to get on our night train to Beijing!

What a serious whirlwind of a first week back in China! From seeing all the friends in Beijing on arrival, to moving to Hohhot and learning so so so much new stuff over the 5 days about how my life is going to take shape with this training and factory internship rotation, to again boarding a train BACK to Beijing for 4 day break? I am so lucky and happy and just doing it!!!! Ah! Amazing!

Stay tuned for Week 2!

[backstagetothedoctors-blog]

Kyan’s Story - Part 1

August 4th, 1978

Kyan was hiding in the hayloft, trying to punch studs through the leather jacket he’d stolen from Alex Ferguson’s locker back in January when his sister asked him to do the dumbest thing he had ever heard of.

“Come with me to America.”

He stared blankly at her for a moment. “How pissed are ya?”

“I’m not-” She bit down on her words when she realized she was yelling, and lowered her voice to a level that he would’ve found scary when he was five. “I’m not pissed, you wanker. I’m serious.”

He snorted. “Really, Kaylin? You’re serious? Ya haven’t been serious since you decided t’ be the town drunk.”

Kaylin’s face went red, but all she did was ball up her fists and look up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths in some kind of attempt to calm herself down. So she was serious.

“Alright, alright,” Kyan said, holding out a hand in a gesture that was somewhere between calming and surrendering. “Why do ya want me t’ go to American with ya? I mean, I’m barely out a’ high school and I’m not even an adult yet. What use am I?”

“You’re th’ only way Ma and Dad will let me go!” She sighed.

“But you’re eighteen. You can do what ya want.”

“Not without money, you bloody idiot.” She huffed and took a seat next to her little brother on what was decidedly his hay bale. “Look. I haven’t got more’n twenty quid t’ my name. But I want- no, need t’ get to America. That’s where it’s at, ya know! There’s nothin’ in this stupid little village for any that int old or borin’, and London’s too… London-y. I’m suffocatin’ here, and America’s got a load of promise. Everyone knows that. It’s why so many a’ th’ Irish moved there back in th’ 1800s.”

“Pretty sure that was because of the potato famine,” Kyan retorted.

Kaylin waved a hand at him. “Oh, whatever! I was never good at school. But tha’ kinda stuff don’t matter in America.”

“Okay, but where do I factor into all a’ this?” He put his- technically Alex’s- jacket down and started shoving the also stolen studs back into his trouser pockets.

“You, ya git, are my ticket there.” She shifted so she could put her arm around his shoulder. Kyan frowned and tried to move away, but she just pulled him closer. “I need money t’ get there. I haven’t got any money. Ma and Dad won’t give me a penny, buuuut if th’ two of us say we want t’ go on holiday t’ say, New York together, Ma and Dad’ll cough up the money right quick.”

Kyan finally managed to shrug her arm off and push her away. “An’ what makes ya think they’ll do that?”

Kaylin rolled her eyes. “They adore you, Kyan. You’re th’ apple in their eye, or fuckin’ whatever. They’ll do anythin’ t’ make ya happy.”

She was right. Kyan was a punk to the rest of the town, but compared to his sister he was the golden child, and his parents certainly doted on him as much as they could afford to. If he backed her up, they would give her money for plane tickets and a hotel, food, maybe even some extra spending money.

“But what I’m gettin’ at is, what’s in it for me?”

“God! Ugh,” She groaned. “You’re so difficult!”

“Ya’ve never done a thing for me before, Kaylin,” He insisted. “I need somethin’ out a’ it t’ agree t’ this.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and stood up, clearly sick of her little brother already, seeing as she wasn’t getting what she wanted. At least she wasn’t restorting to threats, yet.

“Ya get a holiday t’ America, git!” She hissed.

“There’s nothin’s really great about that,” Kyan retorted. “I’d rather go t’ London.” He stood and pulled his half-decorated leather jacket on, making for the ladder.

“Wait!” Kaylin grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned around before she could force him to, or kick him off of the hayloft and kill him. “Look, Kyan, I really need this. It’s my only hope in life.”

“Bit dramatic there.”

“Oh, shut up an’ listen t’ me for once!”

She looked to be on her rope’s last thread. Kyan crossed his arms. “Fine. I’m listen’.”

“There isn’t really anythin’ in it for ya,” Kaylin admitted. “Ya get a trip t’ America, whatever. But you’d also be helpin’ me out! Givin’ me a life besides bein’ th’ local drunken slut.” She clasped her hands together. “Please, Kyan. I’m beggin’ ya. Plus, I’d be out a’ your hair for th’ rest a’ your life! I’ll buy ya a round trip ticket and myself a one way. Please.”

Kyan sighed. He hated it when people begged. Despite the tough exterior he tried to build, he was way too friendly and gullible for his own good. “Alright, fine.”

Kaylin cheered. “Yes! Thank you so, so much! Let’s go ask-”

“Wait, no, I’m not askin’ now! Ask after dinner!”

She could barely contain her irritation, but she shook her head. “Fine, fine, after dinner.”

Dinner that evening was an awkward affair. Kaylin kept giving Kyan looks which he pretended to ignore, and their parents kept looking between them with curiosity, but not enough to actually ask what was going on. By the end of the meal, he was practically getting a death glare.

“Alright, ya gits, what sorta shit have ya gotten yourselves inta?” Their dad, Eddie, asked, dropping his fork and knife on his plate.

“Careful wit’ tha’!” Their mother, Constance, warned.

“Nothin’!” Kyan immediately defended himself. “We didn’t do anythin’! Least, I didn’t.”

Kaylin continued to glare at him.

“Then what did she do?” Eddie gestured at his daughter.

“Nothin’ either.” It was almost shocking that she didn’t try to start a fight for once, but considering that she wanted something out of them it wasn’t all that surprising.

“Then what th’ hell is it?” Constance demanded. “You’ve been givin’ each other weird looks all evenin’, an’ I’m sick a’ it. Spit it now, you two!”

Kyan couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes when Kaylin nudged him with her elbow. “Kaylin an’ I wanna go on holiday t’ America. New York City, an’ all tha’. But we don’t have any money for plane tickets.”

There was dead silence from a moment. “Seriously? You two, on holiday together?” Constance asked. “My goodness, never thought I’d see th’ day where ya got along.”

Kyan stared at his sister, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s not tha’ we get along, I guess, we jus’ have a mutual interest in goin’ t’ th’ same place,” She said.

“Well, ya’ve gotta start gettin’ along at some point, don’t ya?” Their mother insisted. “This might be a good start, since you’re both adults now. Ain’t tha’ right, Eddie?”

“S’pose so,” Eddie agreed carefully. “How long ya wanna be there for?”

“Two weeks,” Kaylin said.

“Two whole weeks? Good lord!” Constance exclaimed.

“Come now, Connie. Who goes t’ another country an’ only stays a week?” Eddie said.

She sighed. “It’s like they think we’re made a’ money.”

“We’ll stay in a hostel, they’re cheaper,” Kaylin explained. Now Kyan was actually shocked. It was a rare occasion she actually did any research. “Then we’d jus’ need money for food and the plane tickets.” She kicked Kyan from under the table.

“Yeah!” He said. “Plus, I’ve got most a’ my chore money saved up from years so I can buy souvenirs, and stuff. Get ya one a’ them silly shorts, or somethin’.”

They waited. Their parents looked at each other, having some sort of silent conversation between them, using only their faces to talk. Kaylin glanced at her little brother with a look that read as ‘this better fucking work.’ Kyan just shrugged at her.

Finally, their broke their stare. “Fine, alright. We’ll give ya th’ money,” Eddie said.

Kaylin jumped up in her chair and wrapped her arms around him. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“My goodness, calm down, girl!” He shook his head. “The deal is, no more than two weeks and if ya go over the money we give ya, you’re on your own.”

“It’s a good thing we went on tha’ holiday t’ France two years ago, innit? Otherwise ya’d have t’ wait for your passports,” Constance said as she started clearing the table.

Kyan just smiled. He wasn’t really all that excited, he had never really wanted to travel anywhere besides London until he got his rockstar drummer career off the group, but he had never seen Kaylin so happy before. They might not have been the closest of siblings but her excitement would bring a smile to anyone’s face.

[literaryclubiiti]

Growling Shriek(s)

DISCLAIMER: This is an admittedly light-hearted conversation about the trends of our most beloved IIT Indore between two not entirely happy-go-lucky stalwarts about to graduate. Following the tradition, this can be considered as a whole-hearted, but nonetheless well-intentioned rant. Reader discretion is highly advised.

By Amey Ambade and Ashish Bharatwal

(SCENE 1: SILVER MESS)

(It’s about noon on a Saturday in March. Amey is sitting on the wildly recognizable red chair, steel plate on the beige table, as ‘Tip Tip Barsa Pani’ plays loudly on the TV, almost in sync with the water dripping off the water filter behind him. He dons a grin as Ashish joins him, visibly frustrated.)

Amey: Dude, what’s up with your mess refund?

Ashish: Motherfuckers. They should be drowned in their own broth.

(Murderous glances from judgemental postgrads across the table)

Amey (unconcerned) : Hard luck, eh? What did you expect, though? Four years on, they’d understand why you dislike them? Didn’t you get to fill a pointless form to get something out of it?

Ashish: It’s not the first time I am getting the short end of the stick in IITI.

Amey: Not the first time you’ve said that.

Ashish (smiling) : Not the first time you’ve said that. You tend to be able to predict each other’s moves after this long a swim in the shitpool as comrades.

(Random Mess Guy comes up: ‘Bhiyaa, mess fees pay kar di na?’ They look at him disapprovingly, and taking the hint, he promptly disappears.)

Amey (doubtfully breaking a piece off a roti with bare hands) : Amen to that, brother. Chal, aaj khane mein kaunsi insect species ki discovery hogi dekhte hain. Talking of insect species, what’s up with E-Blockers suddenly hitting the gym?

Ashish: Well, whaddya know? Trying their best to feel good about themselves before leaving; what were they even doing the last four years, haha!

Amey: Ah well. You know and I know. Now that everyone else is in Simrol, I don’t know what eyeballs you speak of. I give the fad a month to drop off. We clearly couldn’t give two shits.

Ashish (chuckling with disgust) : Especially now.BTW, speaking of shits, look at this - Lauki Ke Kofte. BC’s trademarked turd-sized dumplings® are turning out to be a favorite of those who haunt the Jain food counter. Tatti khaaye par pyaaz na khaaye.  

Amey (proud to not have made the unfortunate sabzi choice) : Chuck that, chal Fresco chalte hain, Snickers pe fir se PayTM cashback aaya hai.

Ashish: Yeah, I have to get a couple of photocopies too. These B-schools! Why do they even have CAT if that is just meant to be a ‘Fuck you!’ to mediocrity?

(They leave the mess, their untouched food-laden plates still on the table. The freshness outside is liberating, it’s like getting out of a green fart convention.)

Amey (finally inhaling air) : Perceived mediocrity… Thodi toh political correctness chahiye, bhai. But yes, I agree. I’ve been swamped with my MS applications lately, and they are equally exhausting. Thinking about our lives after graduation is perhaps more frustrating than trying to maintain a straight face when Batra talks. Add to that the lifelong terror that we will take away from boarding harmfully yellow buses, and lo, you have the recipe for a migraine.

(They reach Fresco, and scan through the hastily placed products. Amey discreetly picks up a Zandu Balm)

Ashish: Remember when as freshmen we were singing at the top of our lungs the lewd version of ‘Chahun Main Ya Na’ and didn’t give two shits when we noticed a furious Batra peering over us ominously from the half-open door? Ah, I miss those careless times.

Amey: And the countless number of times we partied with complete disregard for the neighbors or Digant? It helped that we had no immediate neighbors, aur guards to apne jigri thhey. But with no authorities to piss off now that everyone except us is thankfully in Simrol, it’s like, hum kiske dimag ko shot de ab?

(They’ve collectively picked up stuff worth 150 bucks but will pay only a hundred because subsidy.)

Ashish (showing his phone screen) : Hey, look at this article in ToI: Fluxus event winners haven’t received their prize money. This one guy says IITI owes him fucking 10k. Much ado about Fluxus every year. The only ones happy are the OCs, until last year, right? From what goes around in the campus, they reported earnings of 3000 from Sunidhi’s concert, and an attendance of 3000 in the media. What an absolute load of crap?! 70 lakh mein toh teen decent Fluxus ho jaayenge BC.

(They’re walking, surrounded by the white buildings with eerily jail-like black railings that have defined their time in Silver Springs. Now that Silver isn’t infested with overexcited juniors, final years are loitering in the quaint streets.)

Amey: I still stand by my idea to only have an e-Fluxus to save the money and the Kejru-level shaming.

Ashish: Haha, if only you knew e-Fluxus actually happened this year. We had a middling singer Shirley Setia adorning the terrains of Simrol. I also heard Aditi Agrawal was their second choice, now that she has her own YouTube channel. Way to go!

(They get to the lift, sharing it with the classically unconcerned 4th floor wali aunty as they hear the dulcet voice on loop, touting “Please. Close. The Door. Krupaya. Darwaza. Band. Karein.” Somewhere, Hodor’s soul is shedding a single heavenly tear.)

Amey: The terrains of Simrol! There’s some places in our new campus that look like scenes from True Grit, Blazing Saddles and Mad Max were filmed there. I could swear the dust twisters could effectively upend an unsuspecting Simmi and Avnish holding three Cormens each. Avnish will probably be ecstatic about that, too.

Ashish: It’s miraculous how so few cases of asthma have popped up given the dust bowl Simrol is and the number of students cooped up in there. We are a resilient lot, I must say.  

(They get out of the lift on the famous 3rd floor and enter D-314.)

(SCENE 2: ROOM)

Amey: We’re wasting an entire sunny afternoon for my bloody transcripts. ( He pauses to check a news notification on the antics of a certain orange unhinged toddler-psychopath.) You have to agree, though, with all the negatives aside, isn’t it actually pretty convenient to navigate around the half-built pods in pyjamas?

(They change in a minute, time is important here, and Amey reaches for his shoes. There’s no way he’s going into the arid Wild West in flip-flops. Ashish checks the bus schedule on his phone. They have bus schedules, for fuck’s sake, doesn’t that say a lot by itself?)

Ashish: Yes, but that doesn’t outweigh having no good food, good booze and good company in a ten-kilometer radius, does it? Taste Butts? Screw you, Rohan Rathore.

Amey (disapprovingly) : No cash, only college Smart Cards accepted. And you have to try the infamous Chicken Fried Rice. Nothing screams appetizing as half-cooked rice with boiled chicken bits and spring onions sprinkled on top to emphasize the near non-existent efforts that went into serving it. Maybe if our batch was shifted to the forsaken place too, we wouldn’t have had such a pessimistic opinion. Maybe angoor khatte hain.

(Both take a minute to check if they haven’t forgotten their ID cards and proceed to exit the building. ID cards hold more importance in the Simrol campus than platinum credit cards.)

Ashish: But then I wouldn’t have been able to go to TIME for classes twice a day at ungainly hours. (Phone pings) Iss Utkarsh Kumar Singh ko chayn nahin hai. And then there’s the IIT Indore Discussions and Complaints and Grievances and Suggestions and Repercussions and Discombobulations and Fornications page. People have no chill, this Gymkhana has no chill. Which is a good thing, actually. This one tried its best to make things right. The Constitution was a pretty good move.

Amey: Yeah, they tried to right some wrongs. Avadhesh is hands-down the most proactive Gymkhana President I have seen, especially in regard to being responsive. Can’t say the same about the vigilants-in-their-own-right juniors who were more concerned about lengthening the mail threads with their bull than making their contribution count. The juniors really get on my nerves sometimes.

Ashish: Sometimes? Hah. What have the Quiz and Literary Clubs been up to? I count one… two… three… Three events in the last year, both our clubs combined - no aggressive, only passive, these runts. I’m pretty sure we left the clubs on high notes, but the future for these exclusive groups of students seemingly aspiring just for PoRs is obscure at best. The clubs are almost decrepit now, but the enthusiasm to forward mails from other institutes’ fests has not dwindled a bit.

Amey: Our work defined these clubs, but I agree, lately, confusion seems to have taken them to a standstill.

(They board the dangerously yellow bus after a 10-mile walk)

(SCENE 3: FREAKISHLY YELLOW BUS)

(Amey proceeds to sit on the right side of the bus. Arey naive child.)

Ashish: Bhai, uss taraf dhoop aayegi.  

(They sit on the double-seat and share a headphone. Ashish bangs ‘Another Day of Sun’)

Ashish: I can listen to the ‘La La Land’ soundtrack on end. This and Abusive Aunty Mix and Chodu Singham...  Did you know they caught a third guy for downloading umpteen gigs of porn @36MBps in Simrol?

Amey: Kya?! Yeh kaise hua bhai? That poor pervert.

Ashish: The IT guys can obviously track you in the new hostels. The surprising thing here is, they cared enough. They ALWAYS care when it comes to the quotidian aspects of student life gone slightly haywire. Khaane mein keede se koi problem nahin hai, par Frooti ka payment overdue hai toh expulsion.

Amey: Well, if one guy hogs the whole network, others have to come jumping like it’s The Dawn of The Rise of The Dusk of The War for the Planet of The Apes. I remember how we used to go bat-shit crazy when someone was downloading the latest episode of Game of Thrones from our gareeb 80GB limited Airtel networks when we already had it. Some people were so goddamn serious about the bandwidth they’d become whinier than a Goth kid trying to find his eyeliner.

(The bus hasn’t started yet. CultSec boards. Bus revvs.)

Ashish: Here comes our poor sacrificial lamb. He should wear a tee that says, ‘I am Kalash and I am not a terrorist’.

Amey: Sir, I have known him since my first day at IIT Indore even though that is technically impossible, but impossible is just a word at IIT Indore and apparently everyone had such a good rapport with him so they decided to keep him 22 km away. <insert GRE words image here>

(Both chuckle and greet Kalash, who proceeds to sit behind them.)

Amey (checking phone) : Naya email. Best BTP submissions ke liye. Alag hi! BTP awards are farcical. No interdisciplinary uniformity in grading or evaluation. Two submissions from Mech and both got some prize or the other at the Symposium because of their presentation.

Ashish: Or just plain luck. Still, man. Our BTPs saw some real effort. Our many advisors deservedly became Associate Professors. It was high time, wasn’t it?

Amey: My faith in the IITI academic system is still maintained thanks to these hardworking guys. You remember how hard they had to fight to get us great courses for a Minor degree?

Ashish: The Minor program was unarguably the best decision that defined the academic policies for our batch. And the future batches too.

Amey: Personally, I’d love to see a core subject Minor for the new batches. And Abhishek Sir is the best DoSA we have had since Granny’s left Silver Springs. He’s doing a commendable job, especially given all the student shenanigans.  

Ashish: I think you discount the students’ role tad too much. Our batch has some of the best coders in the country. Utkarsh and the Shah bros are going to the ACM-ICPC World Finals, hopefully turning it into an institute tradition. Then we have prodigies like Tripathi. These guys have done a lot to promote the coding culture at IITI, if only by setting examples. Look at the placements and internship trends you and I noticed this year at the PO: we are near the top of the ladder in India as far as CS is concerned. But more focus on other branches would not do harm, would it *rant intensifies*? 

...Look at the abysmal performance by Electrical and Mechanical; for a decent salary we non-CS guys either have to learn programming and leave our core studies for the night before the exams, or go into research, or take GATE or CAT or IES or IAS or KLPDS and what-not! While we as students need to grow balls and learn how to not get swayed away by first CTCs, some push from the institute would be great.  

(Amey isn’t listening. Notwithstanding the growls and *shaking* of the bus, Amey is cozily napping.)

(The bus stops at the campus main gate after what seems like the whole length of ‘Jodha Akbar’ and ‘What’s Your Rashee?’ combined.)

Entry Gate Security Guard: Sir, ID card. (Ashish has been pretending to sleep too because guard overlook karne ki probability 80% hai and as accent-torn Deepika Padukone in xXx quotably says: he likes his odds.)

(These adamant seniors are not giving up)

Entry Gate Security Guard: ( unable to cut the bullshit, nudges Ashish) Ser! (shudder) ID.

(reluctantly pulling out his ID, Ashish mumbles under his breath.)

(The insidious dust has broken Amey’s sweet nap. He coughs as the scarily yellow bus proceeds into the vastness of the campus.)

Amey: Look, kids with donation boxes for used clothes. AVANA has consistently been on a roll. Although the sight of someone silently looming over you as you sleep, whispering ‘Thatty Rupes’ is almost as scary as the time we watched The Descent and shit ourselves simultaneously crying and laughing.

Ashish: ( in an impressive Marathi accent) Nepali Vachli bhau. Nepali Vachli. (Both share an inside joke as the bus comes to a halt. Destination reached.)

(SCENE 4: SIMROL)

Amey: ( getting down) In the end, that’s what matters. Although persisting regionalism is a good talking point for students, with all its pros and cons.

Ashish: Closely-knit antelope herds are not easy to penetrate.

Amey: Is that the first time you’ve said that? (another chuckle shared, this is getting cheesy) I don’t even remember why we came here. Oh yes. Transcripts.

(A friendly junior smiles and greets them. In contrast to the shade thrown in Simrol, cordiality is still burgeoning here.)

Amey: There are perhaps no stronger polar opposites than AVANA and SESC. I might be horribly wrong, but from what we’ve noticed, it seems like SESC has become redundant and unproductive. The startups they have been promoting either sold stationery or just took the MHRD grant for pizzas, getting bundled up in a matter of months.

(They approach the Physics Pod complete with cinderblocks to cranes and the evergreen sounds of metal hammering. )

Ashish: Yeh bik gayi hai SESC. Ab is SESC mein kuch nahin hai. Yeh saare milke humko pagal bana rahe hain m--

(Ashish stops abruptly as Professor Vishvakarma passes by, greeting them briefly.)

Amey: This guy is THE man. Our Placement Office and the IAC would never be as well-established without him. What’s up with IAC this year?

Ashish: Santosh Sir worked selflessly for both Placements and the Conclaves. Never will the student members be as happy and well-fed as we were under his rule. Haan, this year’s IAC is going to be a mish-mash effort by Rajveer - all hot air and no real content. Ah, who cares? It is anyway under a different professor now.

Amey: But you must admit, PKU sir has been a worthy successor to SKV. The Placement Office is working as a well-oiled machine thanks to him. Won’t you miss our Placement Office perks?

Ashish: Do you mean the divine morning coffees, occasional mayo sandwiches and sour-ass lemon teas or the long hours of highly productive meetings and equally unproductive bakchodi? We’ll definitely miss both.

(They get to the new Academic Office. Ashish listens to the incoherent dialogue between Amey and Rinki Ma’am, and watches her give Amey his precious transcripts.)

Amey (whispering) : Tapesh sir and Rinki ma’am have really grown on us fourth-years, haven’t they?

Ashish (whispering back) : Yeah. I used to get a cold shoulder earlier. Last time I was offered tea. I guess they understand how being seniors is difficult and that our problems begin to get more genuine as we grow through the college. Familiarity here bred sympathy, instead of contempt.

(Cut to: One hour later they leave from SS in an Uber to the city as the dangerously catchy

Swachh Bharat jingle is being heard everywhere. Pity the driver of those poor garbage trucks, people. You can only listen to so much of Kailash Kher and the Chorus Kids. Hey, Kailash Kher and the Chorus Kids sounds like a decent band name.)

(SCENE 5: INDORE CITY)

Ashish: Yahaan Johnny ke paas rok dena, bhaiya.

(They get out of the Nano and pay using PayTM because demonetization. The driver is conveniently named Ramesh. He frowns over not having received cash. Bitches.)

Amey: Where our fuckbois at?

Ashish: Dugar and Bapat are at Sam’s (free) Momos, they tell me. Diggi, Govil, Dhaivat and Avnish are having Fire Paan. Prajwal is at Nafees for biryani. Damn! His attraction to biryani is borderline sexual!  

Amey: Can you blame him? It is magnificent. Though not as magnificent as the one we had at the notorious Love Palace party. Our juniors will never experience the thrill of gatecrashing a wealthy Punjabi’s lavish food fiestas.

Ashish: That was quite a fiasco! The Curious Case of Love Palace! The slaps, the drunken brawls, the humiliation, and, in the midst of it all, the most delicious meal we have ever had, owing in large part to its absolutely undeserving our shorts, slippers and hoodies.

(For our unwitting readers, on 24th February 2014, allstudent received a mail inviting us to the housewarming celebrations of an ostentatiously built residence, the Love Palace that falls on our way to the Axis Bank ATM in Silver Springs. We turned up in full strength, especially the first years who were early to arrive and plunder and leave. Our super-seniors flocked to the open bar, exhausting it of its offerings within an hour. As it turns out, the mail was a hoax perpetrated by *insert_mysterious_name_here* and we were actually not invited. The hosts were gonna have none of that shit. What followed was some lit slapping and thrashing game from our truly Punjabi hosts, which effectively ceased all the faggotry in mere minutes. Amey and Ashish obviously escaped unscathed because they were dressed decently, which was a camouflage. The Bhatias, in the week that followed, saw the wrath of the slap-ees in the form of broken car windows and some dope graffiti. Some of the first-years got their long-overdue slaps well in advance, though.

This event was perhaps one of the most happening ones at IITI, even more than a few Fluxuses. Or is it Fluxii?)

(As they gobble up a hotdog each, they see their homies approaching and a shitstorm of banter follows)

If you’ve manage to read all of the rant above, you can flatten as you go up. The writers want you to know that despite all its flaws, IIT Indore is actually a pretty good place to be, and they cherish their years here. Ashish (rather suspiciously) knows the roll numbers and names of all the people here, and Amey knows how to ignore them. The best hostels in any IIT system, the united outcry that we so often witness (*cough* mess *cough*), a filial feeling that comes with the perk of having a small student population, and the shared respect for friends, professors, and everyone else around, definitely make our IIT Indore journey memorable.

(BONUS)

director@iiti.ac.in  : Wish you all a great life ahead, Batch of 2013–17!

lenka@iiti.ac.in : And I