#i swear to god some people just have no empathy for kids jesus christ

[strawbfairyy]

i just wanna say that it’s really telling that so many people thought mateo from jane the virgin was a brat before his diagnosis episode. like i saw a weird amount of people that blamed his meltdowns/outbursts on jane’s parenting or just outright thought he was annoying when all of those things are TEXTBOOK adhd signs. kids don’t have meltdowns over “nothing” like that, like even if he didn’t have adhd this boy has SO much trauma in his life at such a young age!! and kids who are maybe rude to other kids but immediately regret it or don’t seem to have impulse control are almost always kids with some shit goin down in their brains. matteo has all the signs of adhd since literally the first episode where he’s been aged up, where he says his suit is uncomfortable/itchy and can’t focus on getting ready. and the fact that people (in the fandom and in the show, but I’m talking about in the fandom) saw this very clearly adhd kid and went “ah! annoying and bratty!” tells us that (a) ableism is so permeated into every aspect of our lives and (b) some people literally have no empathy for children and just see them as inconveniences unless they’re totally submissive and i hate all of it

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[harfblarf]

more rick and morty nonsense-- this time, rest and ricklaxation

i havent seen any posts outright pointing this out so: we know that toxic morty contains a lot of morty’s insecurity-- “I don’t want to be on camera I’m ugly”, “my voice is annoying”, so on-- and that he’s scared he’s gonna be in hell, but he also outright states that he "just want[s] to die”. Also that he’s in pain. 

Other things Toxic Morty says:

“I believe you” to Rick, with no hesitation-- Morty’s occasional blind faith in his grandpa is viewed as toxic? Healthy Morty certainly doesn’t just play along with Rick’s ideas

“*screams*”-- panic

“yes rick, i-i agree rick”-- stutter, capitulation, submission, avoiding confrontation

“i think my voice is annoying” in response to rick asking what morty thinks of him discovering electricity-- vaguely self-centered in a depressive way?

“i dont like confrontation”-- yeah no kidding

“i-i dont like this, this is scary” fear, aversion to violence

“i’m a piece of shit but I got the tank” obedient, self-hating

leans on dash much like healthy morty did, looking resigned

“jesus christ it hurts”-- unlike healthy morty makes no effort to reassure others

Toxic Rick :

“you can die when I say so”-- controlling

“why am I bragging about that, I have nothing to prove”-- insecurity

“I’m surrounded by inferior pieces of shit and--” *looks at morty* LOOK IM NOT SAYING HE DOESNT VIEW MORTY AS AN INFERIOR PIECE OF SHIT I’M JUST SAYING THERES AN IMPLICATION THAT IM CHOOSING TO READ INTO. YES HE FINISHED WITH ‘TOXINS’ BUT COME ON that pause tho

hey where did toxic rick get fucking glass test tubes

*destructive tendencies*

“I’m gonna rip your throat--”-- violent boi

“you little sociopath/okay shut up morty”-- considers healthy morty a sociopath, doesn’t want to listen to morty talking about people hating him (did not shut him up previously, only now)

“don’t negotiate with that little turd, you’re the rick, you need to show dominance!” insecurity, desire for control at any cost

angry when his plan goes downhill, angry about remerging

“I got a lot more use out of that thing than he ever did” considers his sexuality a toxic thing, bound to his anger and irrational attachments?

“fuck you summer” no respect, no apology

“alright fuck this time for plan b”, but leaves beth alone

fucking throws healthy morty out of the ship. not his morty, not his problem, i guess?

brags at a very uncomfortable toxic morty

“trapped in your brain... with delusions”

“relax, quit your bitching, you’re gonna be fine... grandpa’s here”-- that same arrogance that makes him call himself a god, is what assures him that he can help toxic morty

“just do it you piece of shit!” angry but resigned to the only solution he can see (small picture)

Healthy Morty:

“mind if i put on some music?”-- considerate, nonpresumptive

the whole “one song a day” thing-- optimistic, planning, looking to the future

“if anyone could [calculate happiness], Rick”-- deep respect for Rick, respect for intelligence, flattery

“thanks rick. I love you”-- affection for his grandpa, appreciation

“if we’re all bored, wouldn’t the common denominator be you?” this is a clever joke, but it’s mean. cleverness/humor is prized above consideration and kindness

“I knew you could” and the rest of this montage-- uh so Healthy Morty provides the confidence Normal Morty is missing to a bunch of people. if that’s not symbolism idk what is; plainly Morty considers supporting and helping people Healthy

“*doesnt react to being called a loser, not even to deny it*” I wonder if this is like, self-acceptance

suave but still in an awkward way? like he drops a pickup line on jessica with an awkward forced laugh

“happy to help rick”-- but no surprise, no real emotion. like it’s forced

“bad phone, chuck it”-- acceptance of simple answers

“if something’s worth saying, it’s worth eye contact”-- considers reliance on technology unhealthy? interesting especially considering his interactions with Rick and all his tech

“you shouldn’t have to deal with that, man”-- curiously, despite making it his job to stop other people from being in pain (helping all his schoolmates), he advises against helping the Toxins

“I think i know what to do. *snaps phone in half*” destruction of property, choosing simple solutions

“things are good... taking that away from me? that wouldn’t be healthy.” manipulation, selfishness, self-preservation

“world’s greatest grandpa, for reals” more manipulation

awkward chattering, spouting shallow wisdom

“pronounce it however you want, words are just things” lack of judgement

“please, thank you, we’re having a conversation”-- shoos away the waiter to make jessica less awkward, being rude to the waiter in the process. singleminded, simplistic solutions

extended metaphor of jessica to a planet, including some like very specific shit, “what’s the equator, what are the holidays”

“talk to me.” demanding, assertive

really... loud? and aggressive, and awkward and emotive; very little self-control

lacking attachments, passions, “life is a highway”, “no sparks no damage”

...really long metaphors with stacey too. u ok morty?

“bad parts of us, which includes our dishonesty” (emphasis mine); morty has no question that deceit is bad. of course, that’s what a manipulative little shit who believes in lying “for good reason” would say, too, so.

stacey will “do anything for you morty”? weird, probably more evidence of his manipulation. quickly earned her devotion

“kill him rick!” morty considers his violence and willingness to retaliate “healthy”

bites toxic morty-- willing to use unfair/dirty fighting techniques just like toxic rick did

also grinning while he attacks him

casually stops and leans on the dash, blank-faced, when beth appears. again, no passion, no emotion at all

also healthy morty was in the driver’s seat and only settled once he was in control

“we gotta stop him”

the one to explain why Healthy Rick shot Toxic Morty again

“you’re a better man than me Rick, I’m healthy enough to admit that”-- healthy morty to regular rick. what does it say that both toxic and healthy morty view rick as superior? man, that’s kinda fucked, even if healthy morty’s actions here are totes dickish

“have I ever lied to you? that’s right, and ask around, I never do” manipulaaaaaation

uses jessica as yet another extended metaphor

draws attention, revels in it, offers falsely specialized attention to people to earn and keep their affection (the wink, the friendliness with “dwayne”)

“red pill or blue pill”

“totally understand dwayne, you’re the boss”, then cuts to... jargon that makes his coworkers happy. i strongly suspect at least part of a lie here, or an omission of truth

the boy is really obsessed with organic carrots, who knows why

“is that how long it takes for rick to trace my location” but he’s smiling, not scowling, he’s... at best amused, at worst unbothered, i guess?

“you miss someone that loved you so much you never had to love ‘em back” holy shit morty

“you didn’t hang up”--”huh. how ‘bout that.” then to surprise into mild consternation when the fucking voltron drones show up

“do what you gotta do”-- despite not wanting it, recognizes the inevitability of rick getting him to remerge

apparently healthy morty told his girlfriend that he was “capitalizing on his lack of conscience by becoming a stockbroker”. interesting

Healthy Rick:

“heheh, this universe”-- considers the universe impressive/beautiful/awe-inspiring (compare to ‘the universe is a crazy chaotic place’)

“that is an interesting concept... listen to me, trying to calculate happiness over here”-- respectful of others’ ideas, still brilliant and trying to improve on them, recognizing that math/science isn’t the solution to everything

“here’s something no science could measure: i’m real proud to be your grandpa, morty”-- pride in his grandson, acknowledging the limits of science

“morty, a moment of your time?”-- so polite hot damn

“what if the toxic parts of us have their own identities-- their own will to live?”-- inherent respect for the value of life

“i’m accountable to my toxins”-- considers responsibility and facing it healthy

“locked ‘em in a cage *hits it while smiling as toxic rick swears*” my guy what the fuck; theoretical emotion, no actual immediate empathy

upset, sad about toxic rick’s deception

“sorry summer” considerate, apologetic

“summer get out of here, go”

“we can resolve our issues, we don’t need to resort to over-the-top--”

“just leave her out of this”

“it’s okay girls, i’m so sorry” takes the time to be reassuring and apologetic when danger is still afoot for the world, offers to cook??

“not our right to stop them”

“your morty”/”i know you give a shit dummy, because I know I don’t”-- i think this is again about “not my morty not my problem”, and that Healthy Rick doesn’t care about Toxic Morty

“merge with me and you’ll know how to save him”... except once they merge there is no saving him, is there? just preservation to merge him with Healthy Morty

“I had all my problems removed-- my entitlement, my narcissism, my crippling loneliness, my irrational attachments” -- things healthy rick considers unhealthy are identified, but he’s still doing this in part because healthy morty insisted it was the right choice, and he’s still proud to be morty’s grandpa

“you’re literally incapable of seeing the bigger picture” so large-scale thinking is considered healthy?

“if i ever gave you the wheel, we’d be dead in five minutes” and isn’t that true, because toxic rick is willing to sacrifice himself for morty, and is too arrogant to think anyone is a threat to him? he would get morty AND himself killed if toxic rick was always in charge. no, letting toxic rick guide him is inevitable, but being controlled by him is unacceptable

Regular Rick: 

“man i really overthink shit when I’m angry”

“now it’s time we re-merge your little ass” interestingly his priorities were a) fix planet (what morty asked him to do), b) remerge morty (save toxic morty)

“that kid is a real piece of shit” (about healthy morty only)

“part of me really wanted to [save you], toxic morty. part of me really wanted to.” 

“tiny american psycho”

“kept asking ‘did you get a new morty yet?’“/”because you kept drunk-dialing me and crying about it!”/”I WASN’T CRYING” /in the background “I didn’t care” (what a liar)

Conclusion: as funny as most of this episode is, it strikes me that what Rick considers unhealthy, Morty considers healthy. Healthy Morty is violent, lacking a conscience, manipulative, domineering, sexual, and lacking in passion and attachments (he does, after all, abandon his family, not just Rick, for three weeks). Yes, he’s also less of a coward, not suicidal, and helpful, but compare to Healthy Rick. Healthy Rick is similarly lacking in passion and attachments, but he’s nonviolent, honest, less arrogant and less willing to impose his will on the world, nonsexual, and calm. Everything Healthy Rick isn’t, Healthy Morty is. It’s a fascinating insight into how Rick’s lies and denial are fucking up Morty’s perception of what is “healthy” and what isn’t. He has come to view violence, foul play, manipulation, lack of emotion/conscience, and dominance as valuable skills, even necessities, instead of the shameful attributes Rick views them as.

[lettersfromleslie]

SNOWED IN ONCE AGAIN / HAIL TO THE CHEETO / SQUARING OFF WITH THE CRO-MAGNONS? / I SURE HOPE NAZIS FEAR COLLAGES

Good God, where to begin? What a laugh - what was I saying again over the summer? …Oh, hum, yes, ominous ripples in the zeitgeist, eh? Well boyo, those ripples ain’t gonna cut it no more for a metaphor - I’d say by now it’s something of a typhoon… Christ, I doubt if bigger water metaphors are even gonna cut it at a time like this… More like a banshee wail of the collective psyche, eh? And there are no signs of it letting up anytime soon. Jesus, strange times! Clearly some sort of reassessment is necessary - reassess what, dammit?!

“COME AFTER ME, YOU FASCIST LOOFAH-FACED SHIT-GIBBON!” tweets the state senator, tagging the president. Is this real life, or are we living in a Hunter S. Thompson story? The initial unreal feeling has been shifting to a feeling of a sustained bad dream - in which even the manic gasps of people reminding one another that nothing is normal become a part of the daily routine. It’s creepy as hell. Life chugs on, of course, for better or for worse, and superficially little changes for those as of yet unaffected. As for myself, I’ve been protesting, hysterically following the news, but the day-to-day is largely unchanged… The only outward difference you’d notice about me, passing by in the subway, is a little sign saying “TODAY: 10% of earnings donated to the ACLU!” I’ve had that one up for a week now and I’ll be wiring over the balance every couple weeks… Hell, but how much good does that really do the psyche? More abstractions… And look at me now, I’m talking like the years have laid dust over this shit, it’s been what - Three weeks! Mother of God! Has it only been three weeks?!

And another thing, goddamnit! I forgot how cold this fucking place of mine gets in the winter! Return of the goddam igloo! I thought I was through with this crap! Right now it’s late at night and there’s a last gasp of a blizzard on, my windows are filled with snow and frost, icicles drip, drip, the gale goes whomp, whomp, on the thin glass, rattling the panes. A few seconds after every whomp I can feel the cool air emanating across the room from the surface of the glass and the cracks around it. I’ve got me a bottle of red wine wine to keep me warm and keep me company - quiet times like these get precious when you’re feeling so goddam unbalanced about things.

I didn’t start writing this just to bitch about politics, mind, but it tends to sorta froth out once you start opening up… Hell, might as well say it, I don’t feel fuckin good this winter! Not one bloody bit. That “bloody” was a forced concession. I’ve started swearing like an American, have you noticed? Can’t help it, Americans seem to swear more... vigorously somehow. So yeah. You goddam swine. I mean, of course winter’s always a bummer… but man, both generally and personally the year thus far has been downright sinister - aside from the fascist apocalypse there’s been a severe lack of funds, depressing dead-end romances, an unusually desperate homeless situation at my favourite busking spot… And then throw in the further complication of a wild attempted escape to New Orleans that went pretty much to hell… I couldn’t afford it, for one, but sometimes you gotta - so I scraped the bottom of the barrel and said my prayers and bought the ticket. First impressions: hallelujah! Not a bad word to say about the place, as far as I can make out Nola is as good a city as they come. Never been anywhere so instantly lovable. In fact I found myself falling head over heels pretty much the minute I arrived, although even now I’m not sure if I was falling for the city - its humid, mossy, cracked wonkiness, its big brown river with the weird foreign-named boats and rotting industrial swampage, the public drinking, bums and tubas and tambourines, etc - or whether I was falling for the girl who’d invited me.

I mean, both, I suppose, but it didn’t work out too well with the girl - stillborn lil romance, that one turned out to be. She went off one morning on a boat! Sailed off at the crack of dawn. Suppose there’s a bit more to it than that, but that’s what I tell people and it ain’t a lie. Oh well. I give her points for style. Let’s be real, I used to be the same way when I was on the road. Anyway, as a result I wound up arriving back in New York unexpectedly alone, stony broke, on the very day the goddam fascist shit-gibbon - I mean, these people know how to swear, man - on the very day the shitgibbon in chief got inaugurated. So with that delightful ambience surrounding me, I had about ten days to raise a thousand bucks busking in the subway, or I’d be badly in the hole… And just to make absolutely sure I drove myself completely bonkers along the way I also set myself the task of giving all the mixes for Sunny Kindsa Lies a facelift. And for good measure I spent the nights flinging a total of about thirty thousand or so words of sentimental drivel at the old diary. Whenever I’d have time during the days I’d join the good people in protesting the escalating drama of mr. Cheeto Benito. What a life!

Ten days of that and I was able to enter February a perfect model of miserable discipline. Rent paid, work done, deeply stressed-out and entirely wracked with nerves. Recovered from my holiday, in other words… Ha. We’re a week into February now and the only thing that’s changed is I haven’t been working so goddam hard and to tell the truth I don’t feel a hell of a lot better as a result. Snap out of it, boyo! 

I know what the thing to do is, and that’s to write it all out and make things that are Good and Real and True and all that jazz. I mean, I’m trying, to an extent, but to my intense irritation all that seems to come out is the usual self-involved melancholia, which is just about the last thing I want to give into right now. How do you write a protest song, exactly? Anyone? It doesn’t seem to be just me - I’ve yet to see any good protest music come out of this thing just yet. (I hate Father John Misty, so don’t come at me with that rubbish.)

Then again, all this protesting… As much as the voice in my head hisses “privilege!”, I suppose there is - or at least I have - the option of reading things at a more cosmic scale. I’m not really American, after all… I don’t have to deal with this shit, necessarily. Take Henry Miller. World War II breaking out didn’t have at all the usual effect on him… In his words,

”The thought of war drives people frantic, makes them quite cuckoo, even when they are intelligent and far-seeing … And it has another bad effect - it makes young people feel guilty and conscience-stricken. In Corfu I had been studying the antics of a superbly healthy young Englishman, a lad of twenty or so, who had intended to be a Greek scholar. Now he was running around like a chicken with its head off begging to have someone put him in the frontline to blow him to smithereens…”

Who knows, maybe the kid did get blown to smithereens. A bunch of healthy young Englishmen did, and fuck knows I’m grateful - who knows what the hell kind of lives we’d be leading right now if they hadn’t. But Miller just took one look at it all and decided the world had gone fucking bananas... An extremely sordid bout of temporary insanity�� An embarrassment, in short. Clearly he didn’t want to be killed; he didn’t want to kill anyone; better hole up somewhere in Greece a while till it all blew over a bit. I’m sure he got bawled out for it plenty, the usual charges, “coward,” “hypocrite,” “traitor”… But if you read his books it’s perfectly obvious that he never really considered himself to have any allegiance to his country anyway, or even his epoch - or any epoch, for that matter. I reckon he’d consider himself to have as much of an allegiance to America as he had an allegiance to the Babylonians, or the Romans, or the Cro-Magnons. There’s something to that, although I can’t square it, myself… I mean, I don’t think that’s me, I reckon I do have that headless-chicken empathy and tribal solidarity that we all value in a good healthy young citizen… But all the same, part of me feels Miller’s way is the right way. Once you take the cosmic view it does all get a bit daft. None of that would make for much of a protest song, though. You don’t write songs for those who have the luxury to leave when the flames get too hot. You write songs for the burning.

I was reading that book when I was in Greece, by the by, while I was writing you about those ominous ripples. The Colossus of Maroussi. Fantastic book - Miller’s best, in my opinion, or at any case his best-realised. Oh, God, I don’t know. I’ll be here, in New York I mean… I know I will, selling my booklets of collages and lyrics, singing my songs, scrambling at the rungs of that greasy ol ladder. What else is there? And spring’ll be soon and that’ll be a whole other thing. Etc, etc, etc.

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 32

Today I Am

“Thomas?” It was an echo through a dream. It came down to him through pitch, again and again. “Thomas?” Someone familiar calling to him. He’d been sleeping in a cocoon of hands, of familiar friends who had gone silent after the fever. They were warm and soft and silent compared to the rest of the world. One of them pushed their fingers into his left eye. It hurt, bruised, but he didn’t brush it away. “Thomas?” Fingers were going down his throat too, jabbing at his gums. He didn’t want to fight it. Not really. He wanted to sleep some more. Maybe forever. But they were calling out to him. Crisp, bright sounds. He had to get up.

The place was dark, but busy. There were people chatting nearby, nothing hurried or urgent. Someone turned a light his way, blinding. He flinched and shielded his face before figures started taking shape. A blurry man to his right. A distant one down near his feet. Someone to his left, but they were still dark.

“Thomas?” That was Dr. Fletcher next to him. He had to turn his head to see her. It was almost like there was a dark film over his left eye. “Oh, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you awake.”

“I can’t see,” he said calmly.

“What was that?”

Thomas waved a hand in front of his left eye, staring wide-eyed, even going so far as to close his right eye just in case, but didn’t see anything. His arms flopped back down on his chest and he said, with a small sigh, “I can’t see.”

“You can’t…at all?” asked Harvey, bless that worry wort, who hovered closer. He didn’t have to open his eyes to find him. He shimmered like a flash of light through cobwebs and lace.

“No, I can.”

“You can or you can’t?”

“I can.” And he sat up, ignoring Dr. Fletcher who crowed at him to take his time, with her “Okay, okay. Easy now.” When he was propped up, he looked right at Harvey and covered his useless eye. “I can’t.”

“Oh.” Then it dawned on him. “Oh! Oh, okay. Ah. Really blind, huh?”

“Just the one, though.”

“Ah.”

“Mm.”

Thomas opened his arms just as Harvey barreled into him, and the two embraced, so damn happy that the other one was alive and well. They laughed, clapping each other on the back and gripping onto shoulders and arms, saying how good it was to see the other.

They gave him time to come together, get used to his eye. He joked about taking Warren’s, but the hard woman was somewhere else and not up for jokes just yet. He took in the dark surroundings, squinting up at a low square light in the ceiling that pulsed down UV like the solar substitutes. There were other lights too, more orange, more organic. The girl, Alice, was back. Her head was cool but there was something dull in her eyes. Thomas decided he would see to that later. His head hurt and he had to chew flour paste and cold beans around the pain in his mouth. The teeth were ruined, and they screamed whenever he managed to bite down on them. It was exhausting to give them attention, so he pushed that back too.

“What happened while I was asleep?” Thomas asked the small group eating off of aluminum foil and paper plates. “Do we have word from the city?”

“Oh, we have word,” Harvey said. He nodded and shoved some more food between his teeth, scraping his finger on the rough patch of beard that covered his skin. Still wouldn’t grow in full. Harvey didn’t like to be teased about it, but it was such an ugly thing.

“And?”

They were all silently trying to figure out how to line up their answers, who was going to say what. Melissa wouldn’t look at him but stayed close by to make sure nothing happened. Warren was busy with the kids telling stories. Jay and Annalise were off comforting Alice. The new kid, the recruit, crouched nearby.

Thomas turned to Harvey and pressed him, impatiently grabbing at any thought. He heard …been five days…and…full lock down. Ask about Subject 01.

“Who’s Subject 01?” Thomas asked.

“Joe Diggs,” Melissa said with a defeated sigh, her back still to him. “Said his name was Joe Diggs.”

“He was a patient of yours.”

“More a ward of Montemille.”

“But he was specifically your patient. What was he like?”

Her first reaction, of course, was to ask how he knew. She wanted to throw it at him like an accusation. Thomas held his hand over his blind eye, cupping it as he propped his elbow up on one knee. He wanted her to accuse. He wanted her to test him, but he was afraid of her anger and her fear and her scorn. He just wanted to be Thomas Carter. Back at the Center of Hope. Back with his mop and his watch and the quiet room with her photographs. He wanted to be Thomas Carter, that’s all. Instead of whatever this was.

“He was bullheaded, which is to be expected from a case like his. I preface this because he was textbook sociopath, and that doesn’t automatically make him evil or a bad person, no more than someone who is manic depressive or schizophrenic or autistic. All it meant was that he had no empathy towards others and he had learned to read someone like an open book and offer the emotion that would best suit the situation. A good trick, really. I could tell you how many CEOs…. Anyways. So, along with being a sociopath, he had delusions of grandeur. Pretty standard for people who claim what he claims.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, when they brought him in he claimed to be the Messiah. He was the fourth Jesus Christ I’d dealt with. The only reason he was at Montemille was because he had swindled dozens of families out of millions of dollars to support a church in his name. That was the reason for his arrest. This has happened before.”

“Yeah?’ asked Harvey with a laugh. “Got a lot of Gods running around?”

“We do,” said Dr. Fletcher matter-of-factly. “We have plenty of people around the United States who think they’re Jesus. There will be others.

“Joe was charming. He was. He was compliant to a point—he didn’t enjoy the meals and would arrange food strike protests until he eventually caused panic by suggesting that we were poisoning them and he was given a feeding tube for a stretch of time. That wasn’t my idea, but my advisor demanded it.”

Thomas wasn’t sure if he wanted to pry into that and discover Melissa was lying. Not that she had actively lied to him, of course, but she kept these secrets from him. It would be ugly to pry. He let her continue.  

“Joe was helpful to others in the program and offered to pray over them when they first started the injections. He had, I recall, a very sweet voice. Very convincing with that whole ‘I am the Shepard of my flock’ gimmick he liked to give.”

Melissa leaned back, the makeshift plate resting at a hazardous angle on her thigh. She closed her eyes and disappeared in there, recalling.

“When we got the first Westwood trial correct, he noticed that he was the only one who knew how to get through it. I’d been talking to him, reminding him of his humility, if there was any. He used to laugh and promise....” Melissa laughed and it was discordant and sad. “He promised me a place in heaven. I couldn’t get through to him, but the whole point was that we were re-developing the brain to overwrite these anomalies and correct disorders. I just told him I appreciated it and thanked him each time, because I thought it better to appease him then, right when he was fighting off the fever.”

“Now he thinks he’s a god,” Thomas said.

“He was the first successful patient. ‘Burned him clean’ is what he was always saying. He knew, I swear, that when he made it through he would be gifted with the unknown abilities attributed to the virus. I mean, we couldn’t detain him if we tried. I was gone before he broke out with his partner, the woman. I never learned her name, just that she was paired with him, this symbiotic nature that kept them both alive. Subject 47. Augmenter.”

“What do you think his connection is with the director? Lawrence DuVang?”

“I don’t know,” she answered with a helpless shrug. No eye contact. Maybe he appreciated that too, because he wasn’t sure what his blind eye saying. What his good eye was saying. “Working for him? Maybe he is Lawrence DuVang. I mean, it wouldn’t be hard to come up with a persona. Not for him.”

“But they’re going to do something with the CleanAire systems,” Harvey offered. He took Melissa’s plate, folding the tinfoil together into a tight ball and hooking it towards a large black plastic bag that they were using as a trash bin. “And, hey,” he added with pointed bitterness, “at least we have that Declan guy hacking away at them.”

“What?”

“Jay and Alice,” said Harvey. He rolled his eyes. “They have this guy in their band who says he can hack the towers and take them offline. I mean, Christ, if he can do it, we’re saved. For now. But that’s a pretty huge if, you know? He does it or not, we still have to act on this Diggs guy or this Lawrence guy or whoever, don’t we?”

“How’s she holding up?” asked Thomas.

“She’s….” Harvey rolled his shoulder, glancing back at Jay and Annalise who sat next to her, stroking her hand occasionally or joking about nothing. “Found out about Devon. Remember that guy we found? That was Jay’s cousin. Doorman Devon. Apparently he was a DJ and then a priest or something, I don’t know. She was in love with him. Really wrecked her to hear about it. That and. Well. I mean, I can only imagine, but she….”

“She lost the kid,” the recruit said. He’d been watching the trio too, with big soft sighs and slumped shoulders. “Fucking sucked, man.”

“Yeah,” Harvey answered. “Yeah. Sucks.”

“Fucking sucks,” the Recruit corrected.

“Okay, so, who asked you anyway?”

The recruit just shrugged and got up without saying anything. They watched him go. Harvey was vocal about his displeasure at having him at all, though he was not actually unkind to him. Just tired. There was nothing cruel to Harvey, nothing that would force the kid out and back up there with the rest of the Black Jackets. Thomas wasn’t sure what he would do if Harvey ever did become cruel.

Thomas got up to take a walk. He couldn’t have imagined what the underground place would look like. There were so many people. So many more than he remembered in the nest. They came out of little garbage tents and makeshift rooms and hidden coves. It reminded Thomas of his time with Ma Stuff, with the homeless people near the river, but everyone here was warm and slower and calmer.

Everyone came up to him, in groups or one at a time, and asked him questions from “How are you” to “When are we getting out of here” to “I had a dream and it scared me and I want to know if everything is going to be okay.” He loved them each and listened because he wanted to. He found Warren and hugged her, even if she bristled and turned over to Kay like it was the most embarrassing thing she could do. He found Harlow and Kate and their young children, the twins who had needed so much care. He wiggled their feet and made them laugh. He helped the three trouble makers—Ian, Mijar, and Avrich—find a string of lights with some of the underground people and told them all to go decorate one of the corners. He took his time so that they each felt appreciated and content and, for a moment, assuaged from the cruelty of everything. He made his way over to Alice and sat with her as Jay and Annalise went to talk to some of the other people. The subway people.

“Hey,” he said and pressed his back against the wall. She was sitting on his right, so he didn’t have to turn his head to see her out of the corner of his eye. “Did you get some food?”

She offered him a shrug in response. He had to ask if she wanted anything, to which she shrugged again.

“Yeah,” he said and sighed, letting his head fall back so he could look up at the ceiling. Or maybe try. It was too dark to see it. “I wonder how it’s going up there.”

They both looked up, trying to imagine the Heights spread out like a map. He had heard Harvey squawk about an extended curfew, something he would have to ask about. But, just then, he thought of the people in the city. Mothers and fathers inside their homes, old guys named Jerry rubbing grease off their knuckles with turpentine, artists named Vivian pushing big globs of acrylic around a five-foot canvas. He imagined children doing homework or pretending to do homework or just watching TV until someone called them out of their room. He imagined a young man with locks tied up in a thick bunch, pouring over a computer, poisoning himself with water laced with anti-anxiety medication.

“I’m glad I lost it,” Alice said quietly. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “For lots of reasons. I just didn’t think I could be a mother, you know.”

“I don’t think I could be one either,” Thomas said and smiled. “Sorry.”

“Sounds like something he would say,” she answered with a laugh, but it was gone just as it started. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Thomas didn’t know him. They never had a chance to meet, and the cold body they found didn’t have any spark rattling around inside to get a read off of. He could see flashes of him drifting from her, though. They were yellow lens flares over a drum kit. Blue smoke in a dark room. Red sprinkles of wandering fingertips. The colors spooled around him and he started to feel a deep pit grow in his stomach.

“It won’t help, I know. But, if I find the bastard who started this? And I take him down? It’s all I can offer.”

Alice snaked her hand towards his and entwined their fingers in a loose knot. She gave it a squeeze then. He would miss that warmth when he was back in the city, marching towards the end of the street with an army of black and white boiling around him. He tried to keep hold of her colorful memories. Maybe that would comfort him in the gray.

“Take his head and I’d call it square.”

“You want it delivered on a silver platter?”

“I like gold better,” she said, and there was that little smirk at the side of her face again.

“Golds harder to come by.”

“Hey. Steal one of those ceramic platters from like a grandmother’s pantry or something, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanksgiving dinner style,” she added, and laughed, short and simple, before she took her hand away.

Harvey had stowed away in the largest shed, the one where he had been sleeping. He enjoyed a kind of privilege there, but the man who governed the subway people was nearby, mending some clothes with a big ugly needle and a spool of fishing wire. Clause. Thomas would need to talk to him too. Harvey was busy with Melissa, distracting themselves with camping trips when they were younger, sharing recipes to make the right S’mores.

“I’ll be back,” said Thomas as he got back up. He was lying.

“Okay,” said Alice, her knees up by her chest. She knew.

Thomas left Harvey and Melissa, veering off instead towards Clause. The big man with his big white beard didn’t look up as Thomas approached.

“So you’re their guy,” said Clause, tugging the needle through the leather sleeve of his jacket. “The top dog.”

“Not by choice,” said Thomas. “Is this seat taken.”

“Taken in that it was stolen from up top? Yes. Taken as in occupied? No.” He motioned to the milk crate near him. “It’s yours.”

“Thanks.” Thomas sat on the milk crate, leaning on his knees to give the illusion that he was shorter than Clause. Even with the different heights in chairs, Thomas was right there at his eye-level. “How’s it going down here?”

“Well enough,” said Clause, still not looking up. “You got a lot of people with you.”

“So do you.”

“First come, first serve.”

“Do you think you can keep them a little longer for me?” Thomas asked, bracing himself on the milk crate.

“How long?”

“Only a little longer.”

“I need more than that,” said Clause and finished up his stitch in the sleeve. It was ragged and lumpy, but it would hold well. He admired his work by shaking the jacket and cutting the extra wire with a short knife from his belt. “How’s that?”

“Looks good,” said Thomas with a nod.

“Looks like shit.” Clause shook it out again, giving it a good once over, before he nodded and shrugged himself into it. It barely fit. He appeared to be very proud of it all the same. “Anyways, you going to give me a time and I’ll tell you yes or no, or we’re going to end this now.”

“And where would everyone go if we did?” Thomas asked, just because he felt up to a little challenge.

“I dunno. Not here.”

“Up there?”

They both looked up at the ceiling, imagining the empty streets above and the cold gray clouds above that. It was a dead world up there compared to the warm fires and Christmas lights in the subway tunnel.

“Up there with the Black Jackets?” Thomas continued.

Clause’s whole face scrunched up at the words “Black Jacket.” He huffed and started respooling the fishing wire. But he was firm in his beliefs and his need to protect not only his people, but what he perceived to be rightfully his, if anything could be belong to anyone in that dark little world of theirs.

“Two days,” Thomas said at last.

He got up before Clause said anything, dusting his hands on the side of his pants. It was good enough. Thomas knew the offer was valid and he’d make sure he kept his end of the bargain.

“But what’re you going to do?” Clause asked after him, still on his seat, still holding the needle and thread.

“I need to find Joe Diggs.” Before Clause could ask why, he continued, “I owe someone a head on a platter.”

“Well.” Clause wasn’t getting up. In fact, he sank further into the shadows. Someone came to them with a basket, leaning in towards Clause to share a few words. If he wanted, Thomas could listen in, but he didn’t. Clause nodded and turned back to say, “Give ‘im hell for us.”

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