#rooty toot toot for the moon

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 03

(Masterpost)(Previous Episode) 

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

 Wei Wuxian demonstrates the purple nurple technique of the Jiang Clan

Should’ve Used Trivago

The Jiang Clan’s reservation got cancelled while they were on the road, so they are going to wander around this small inn for hours being fussed about it, rather than trying another inn. Yes they say the other inns are all full but…so is this one, now. 

The Jin Clan sends an advance party to fancy up the inn for them.

Fuckboi Wei Wuxian

Wei Wuxian decides to use his considerable powers of prettiness to get them a room.  He drops some poetry on Mianmian and brazenly flirts with her before shifting to properly introducing himself and asking for a room. 

This actually works.

...until her boss shows up.

(Much much more after the cut!)

Worst Person // Best Jin

Jin ZIxuan is an ass and a snob. 

I guess we have to give him credit for having a beautiful sidekick and never hitting on her, given that his dad is a rapist and one of his half-brothers is (reputedly) a sex pest and the other half brother is (definitely) an incest perp. But I feel like it doesn’t take much to be the best Jin of his or his father’s generation.

The Jin folks are snobs and talk about how great their fancy and expensive stuff is. It’s an interesting contrast with true connoisseur Nie Huaisang, who loves everything that is fine and beautiful and can quote stacks of poetry off the top of his head, but is not even a little bit of a snob. 

This Tea Smells Like Farts

Ok, let’s talk about generation names in the Jin clan. Ru is the name for Jin Ling’s generation, hence his courtesy name Rulan. The name for the current generation is apparently Zi (子), because both Zixuan and his jerk cousin Zixun have that as their name.  Sect Leader Jin Guangshan would seem to be using the generation name Guang, but then names his son Jin Guangyao so…the whole system breaks down. 

Anyway, my point here is that even considering generation names, if I had a baby and named it Zixuan, and my sister-in-law promptly had a baby and named it Zixun, I would slap her. 

Find you a lover who does not make you feel like this 

Jin Zixuan is mildly intrigued by his betrothed, and expresses it by being rude to her in front of Wei Wuxian, starting a chain of events that will culminate with Wen Ning’s fist going all the way through Jin Zixuan’s chest.

Side Note: Look at these young Jiang Brothers and their casual shoulder hugs. Sigh.

Wei Wuxian’s Combat PlayBook

When Wei Wuxian wants to throw down, he starts with smack talk, moves along to boundary crossing, then to direct threats, and then brings out a weapon if he hasn’t won already. 

Here he starts shit with Jin Zixuan by complaining at him for taking up too much space and having too many sycophants.  Then he goes for the unwelcome shoulder touch. 

Having been sufficiently provocative to get someone to draw a sword and threaten him with physical violence, he shifts to formal verbal sparring. 

This gets the other guy to back down, because even at this age no-one actually wants to tangle with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian gets to claim the moral advantage, although he still doesn’t get to keep his hotel room. 

Actually Not A Fan of My Sister’s Betrothal

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli have the first of many, many moments of heterosexual ineptitude together. Wei Wuxian quickly rescues them.

Hi, I’m Young Master Cockblock.

Neither of the boys understands what Yanli sees in Zixuan and neither do I, at this juncture. He does improve later after multiple beatings from Wei Wuxian.

This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change

Yanli’s encounter in the Inn is the first step toward the inexorable end of the three of them as a unit, although it’s still a long ways off. They are all growing up and she and Wei Wuxian are both going to fall in love at summer camp, like in a 1980s teen movie but without the virginity betting (presumably). 

Meanwhile poor Jiang Cheng is going to be swept along just trying to keep up with events, which becomes the story of his life for the next two decades.

Welcome to Transylvania

We meet Wen Ruohan. He is boring and he sucks. Also I’m summarizing the Transylvania parts out of order because they break up the rhythm of the story. And are boring and suck.

We meet Xue Yang. He seems nice.

Wen Ruohan’s living room is like a shitty nightclub where everyone is too drunk to dance except Xue Yang.

Dee Jay: Undead undead undead, Bela Lugosi’s dead

[OP can’t get a video to embed in this post with looping enabled, so the alternate version of this joke has its own post right here. That will teach OP to get fancy.]

Anyhoo

We meet Wen Qing. She is the bestest most wonderful girl in the world but this isn’t actually when we find that out. 

Right now we just find out that she is absurdly pretty, that she loves her brother deeply, and that she is helping Wen Ruohan with his “take over the world by murdering cultivators” project. OKAY, PROBLEMATIC, BUT SHE IS THE BESTEST GIRL OKAY? 

Gatekeeping

The Jiang Clan don’t get another inn but they do manage to change into immaculate white robes while they’re out on the street, so - nice work, Jiang Clan. Be free!

They get stuck outside the gate because they don’t know that the secret to getting into Cloud Recesses is to set the gate guard on fire. 

Walking Thirst Trap Hanguang-Jun

Lan Wangji shows up and everyone except Yanli, who is already in love with Sir Golden Pants, makes thirst faces at him. Including Jiang Cheng tho he will never admit it. One girl in the background is actually biting her knuckle. 

Note: Lan Wangji knows exactly how fine he is. Look at his fucking hairstyle. 

He is sixteen years old. The only person in the entire cultivation world with fancier hair is Nie Mingjue, and that’s because he indulges his dìdi’s braiding hobby. 

Wei Wuxian loudly stage whispers that LWJ is their key to getting in and LWJ is is like, not fucking likely, person I didn’t glance at yet. 

But then Wei Wuxian says a smart cultivator thing about the puppet dude, and Lan Wangji turns around and has the first of many long mutual staring sessions with this boy he totally isn’t going to like at all.

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about the future: a 2-frame gif

Unrelated gardening note: the red-crack puppet is more commonly grown in Gusu and Dafan, while the black-line puppet is native to Yiling

I Must Arrange a Date with this Uninteresting Boy

The rest of the evening is a series of tests that Lan Wangji puts Wei Wuxian through. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know this and Lan Wangji probably doesn’t exactly know it either. 

First he sends WWX back to town to get the invitation. Yes, go get it. Not your entourage; YOU, talky person who thinks he can manipulate me and is smart and looks...intriguing. Go find it and come back. 

When Wei Wuxian complains, Lan Wangji silences him, which is literally the most boss move he could have used on smooth talking Wei Wuxian. 

You tried, Fuckboi.

Would you like to try some more because I think I would like you to try some more

Jiang Cheng is the Better Baby Brother

Sorry, he just is. Wei Wuxian is all about being taken care of and adoring Yanli without actually doing much for her. Jiang Cheng is the one who thinks about her feelings and giving her what she needs, even to the point of arranging that wedding rehearsal dinner so she can be with her favorite brother again -- the favorite who isn’t him, much as she also loves him. 

Date Test 1: Can You Get In.

Once Wei Wuxian is definitely gone, Lan Wangji shows up again and collects the entire retinue, guaranteeing that Wei Wuxian will be stranded outside the gate when he gets back.  LWJ doesn’t wait by the gate; he goes and waits up on the roof instead of going to bed or whatever else he’s supposed to be doing. Because he already knows the route Wei Wuxian will be taking. 

Wei Wuxian passes the “get in through the wards” test with no problem besides a minor headache and bent fingers. 

Is that Xiao Zhan’s hand or did they use a double-jointed hand model?

Date Test 2: Fight Me (Lan Wangji’s Combat Playbook)

As soon as Wei Wuxian shows up on the roof, Lan Wangji picks a fight with him. 

LWJ fights all the time; he’s perfectly comfortable when he’s fighting and it’s a good venue for him to express himself. His style is graceful and aggressive. 

Attack attack attack strike a pose, vogue, you know it.  

He starts by going all in on swordplay, but that doesn’t gain him the advantage; Wei Wuxian fends him off without ever drawing his sword. Which is probably the hottest thing that has ever happened to Lan Wangji in his young life.

Do you like me better when I’m horizontal? 

Next Lan Wangji deploys the pettiness by breaking WWX’s wine. Then when Wei Wuxian starts insulting him he upgrades to next level pettiness by dropping another silence spell, this time with the added bonus of preventing WWX from drinking. 

Wei Wuxian’s Combat Playbook, Redux

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is running his own fight routine, starting with a charm attack, which doesn’t work at all. 

Are you admiring the moon? 

He keeps trying to de-escalate for the first phase of their fight, until they reach a pause and he reflects that Lan Wangji has real skills. As soon as he makes that determination he goes on the offensive - with words. 

He very formally says he’s too busy to continue fighting, and turns away, which is a pretty solid roast when you say it to someone who’s been trying really hard to kick your ass. Then he continues defending easily until Lan Wangji uses the wine against him. 

At this point the gloves come off, with Lan Wangji lecturing Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian making ad hominem attacks, Lan Wangji forcibly shutting him up... 

...and then throwing him on the floor in front of Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen. 

Sincere Grief for the Death of our Colleague

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen feel really bad for their disciple who has been horribly turned into an undead creature. Ha ha j/k

Date Test 3: Face the Authorities

Lan Wangji gets to pick Wei Wuxian’s punishment.  This probably won’t awaken anything in him. 

Surprise surprise, Wei Wuxian actually passes the Authority test with flying colors. Lan Qiren doesn’t like him, but listens respectfully to his thoughts about the undead cultivator. And Lan Xichen clearly does like him.

When Wei Wuxian learns that Lan Wangji was nice to his sister, his entire demeanor changes, to such an enormous degree that Lan Wangji starts to run away.

He’s not going to let this boy (who has passed all the tests oh no he passed all the tests) make out with him in front of his family like he is obviously planning. 

But once again, Wei Wuxian’s cultivation knowledge captures Lan Wangji’s attention and breaks through his reserve. 

This Hardy Boys moment is the beginning of their cultivation partnership.

Lan Wangji is brave but is extremely constrained: by the authorities in his life and by his own rigid reserve. Wei Wuxian is brave and is also free. His companionship gives Lan Wangji an opportunity to engage with a much broader range of the things that interest him than he’s ever had before. 

After Wei Wuxian has been sent to bed, Lan Wangji stands outside and -- just as WWX had suggested at the beginning of their date/fight -- admires the moon, with an expression that’s anything but upset. 

Sure, sex is cool (probably), but have you ever analyzed a walking corpse with a beautiful boy in the moonlight?

If you’ve got your true honey Life can be pretty funny If you've got money, money to burn Rooty toot toot for the moon It's the biggest star I've ever seen

The Fine-as-Hell Brothers

Alone together, Lans Xichen and Wangji talk over the various things on their minds. 

Xichen: What the fuck is up with you? ...Rooftop fights and dropping spells on boys?

Wangji: You and uncle were ignoring me so I was making my own fun

Xichen: Yeah, we are dealing with this zombie situation; shit’s going to hit the fan

Wangji: what are you going to do about it?

Xichen: fuck-all

Wangji: Well, you can rely on me

Xichen: I totally do. So how about you get to know this Wei kid, he seems like a fun ride.

Wangji: *death glare*

Xichen: You know, since Dad died you’ve become even more uptight. I wonder if I’ve been too strict with you?

Wangji: Um, you think? 3000 fucking rules, dude. Fortunately I’m not going to go off the rails and fall in love with my polar opposite and cause havoc in the cultivation world or anything like that.

Xichen: good, me neither

Outtro

Writing prompt: Lan Xichen’s secret nightly letter to his Mom’s memory or spirit (your choice), in which he confides in her about his day. May be written in flute solo form. 

(As always if you use this prompt feel free to post a link to your fic in comments!)

Soundtrack: 1. This Is The Day by The The  2.  Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Bauhaus 3. Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon, Greg Brown version 4. Madonna, Vogue

Bonus: FineAsHell-Jun

Episode 04 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

"i can call him up and tell him what i want!

Jesus.mp3

(first im gonna tell him, again, how i love glorious sound; the tambourine forever convulsing, the concertina and horns in stereo imperfect mirroring, the full stop || to announce the entrance of guitars. the church bells, and beautiful beautiful the one man who comes in wrong towards the end but everyone smiles through. thump thump hit your foot on the floor and all this worry goes away. and ry cooder isnt even really supposed to be cool, is he?)

am i sick? do i want to get well? is such a goal possible? i am goalless, theres just thump thump this beat, and merely attending to each new downbeat, thats what im going to do. after every hit of the drum there another one coming up. on it. right now im riding fast through midnight a slipper of ice, and the walls of night are a million cymbals suspended and waiting for my playful picket fence stick. im hitting more than ever...abandon the metaphor for a moment and revel in the quotidian count, ive got 7 plays lined up for the first 6 months of next year, and i am thrilled psychedelic sick about each and everyone. listen: a cabaret, a song played on a solo saxophone, a train to catch, a gun goes rooty toot toot, russian rock n roll beamed into outer space, prayer both silent and full, and finally a birth of light. i must be fucking crazy. i must be! am i sick? do i want to get well? these seven bursts of metal with wonderful souls talent so beautiful, none of them will be the single goal, each night will be another cymbal sizzle crash through starlit wind flying past me as im riding so recklessly down the hill, weaving past cars technicolor lit, and its going to blur in the speed to just one stream of light pouring out exhausted. i love the challenge, the sleepless push to hit every next note, keep playing, keep going, i want it.

i can call him up and tell him what i want!

do i want more than this? im making a living at it now. im paying the rent on these outbursts now; and the people are good, everyones mind is reeling in another way and i love the laughs each one gives me. how can i ever come close to knowing them all? is there room for me? do i want more than them? maybe, maybe. real success, that elusive flame of fame, ha ha my musical opening on broadway in 2007, my god, why not, why not. i can call him after all, and ask him for this, right? what i want. what i want.

when the whiskey veil wears away for just a second i look down at my hands and they are white knuckled for im freezing cold causing im going so fucking fast and i forgot my gloves or i lost them in a bar on mission street or in the bart station, but i cant go back because i jumped the gate, i jumped the gate again almost every day a bart train renegade heart racing fast everyday but i cant remember right now. i must be crazy. there are so many things to wrap your hands in anyway...and look at her with her mittens fingerless, and her with her hat fizz fuzz blue, and her with her legs i can see fishnet stockings, garter and all, under a wider fishnet hose, that lovely leg all wrapped twice. every woman around me wrapped up different and my fingers trembling no matter where or when for a little more warmth, a fabric new always, why? why? i must be crazy wanting that when ive already got those eyes to get so lost in that temperature vanishes like direction in the dark, floating through centigrade in a shivering sweat flawlessly true. i must be crazy, but i can ask him, what i want, what i want.

i dont want anything, i dont. god, please i dont. please let that be the truth. cause ill get so sad if i want it and dont have it and ive got so much right now that im almost blind. i can be what i want to be/i can choose whatever heaven grants. but i just want to be whatever heaven grants, any cymbal so bright and lovely to be seen when im riding fast like this, god its like a new moon gold in the sky! crash a cymbal that i want to hear ring clear, crash peel, i want to hear them PEEL!

and i fear the shallowness, maybe theres too much and im not there deep where i could be. theres someone ive known as long as possible in real pain and i cant understand it really, cause i felt real pain once and said never again? no, surely not? that was so little...

but solo now so: lo the cymbals,

only the cymbals and my bike out of control too fast, but god theyre so glorious shiny! ive been working on riding no handed so i can grab a stick in both hands and catch my ears in the nodes and hear a mountain range valley strange of waves in the cold night air.

one asked me, why do i perform? i cant answer you, i cant. i have no idea. its what im here to give? its just there and its beautiful and thats all i can do. maybe im doing too much? i can barely feel.

tomorrow ill make the drummer a vegetable lasagna in exchange for a haircut, god my hair is so long, its the only helmet ill wear. i know how to make a good vegetable lasagna; i just have to pick the right vegetables, and only a few, so that its about *mushrooms*, or its about *broccoli*, its about the *one* taste, dont lose it, dont lose it//

(but on cannery row hazel pours all the half drunk drinks into a single jug, and comes home with a wild punch maybe champagne spiked one night and fernet the next. one taste.

i have no idea what all of this tastes like,

i have no idea what god looks like,

i have no idea how there can be so many sounds in the universe that when i open my mouth next time ill sing one brand new song, once and only once always one note to the next never ending, never goal, just sound all the way SHHHOOM! to the end of the universe getting absorbed by all around it cymbalstars bursting and dying brand new)"

Dave Malloy, 09 December 2005

[momofthetrees]

“Singing’ rooty toot toot for the moon…”

[porcineum-blog]

Chris Dedrick

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-x7ezs-11330c2 Gilbert O’Sullivan – We Will (1972) Just a nice pre-‘US fame’ song I thought you might like.  Michael Johnson – Rooty Toot Toot For The Moon (1973) His big hit was “Bluer Than Blue” in 1978.  Produced by Chris Dedrick.  Merry Clayton – Sly Suite (1980) Arranged by Chris Dedrick. Merry Clayton was the backup singer on the Stones’ “Gimme…

[scribefindegil]

There are a lot of songs I learned by ear, either in my college folk-singing days or from my parents, and it’s always exceedingly strange to listen to recorded versions because none of them sound right. 

I was just trying to find a version of “Rooty Toot Toot For The Moon” that sounded anything like the one my dad used to sing when I was little and getting increasingly bewildered because every recording I found was slow and somber and earnest. I started having doubts. Was it not supposed to be a funny song? Had I been thinking of it wrong the whole time?

Fortunately I found out that the original songwriter was as confused by the “Kumbaya factor” as I was, so my dad’s version stands as the best and most accurate.

[70spulp]

✨ I was tagged by  @frankvincentzappa, @davidgaymour, @mrsmclennison ( and more ppl, I think, I'm honestly so bad at keeping track I'm sorry, anyway, thank you all very much I love doing tags!!!💖😭🌈)

Name: Lavinia

Nickname: Lavi, Nia

Gender: ?????????????????

Star sign: Pisces

Height: 5'4, maybe 5'5

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff! But could be Ravenclaw as well

Favorite color: Turquoise. But any pastel tone tbh

Favorite animal: Cats!!!!!!!!

Time right now: 8:34 pm

Cat or dog person: CAT!!!!!!!!

Favorite fictional character: Donna Noble (Doctor Who), Steven Hyde (That '70s Show), Eponine (Les Miserables) and Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls)

Favorite singer/band: The Who, David Bowie, The Kinks, Small Faces, The Jam, Pink Floyd, The Beach Boys, Lana Del Rey and The Beatles

Dream job: Illustrator!!!!! Or book shop owner

When was this blog created: I dont remember????

Current number of followers: 1,098 (thank you all v v much!💖)

What made you decide to make a tumblr: A tv show fandom

Why did you pick your URL: I freaking love Keith Moon and cats man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll tag( you guys don't have to do this):  @ziggystarducks, @softtownshendgrunge, @gayrockstars, @petes-nose and @rooty-toot-toot-tattoo-too✨

[buriedbybooks]

Throwing this out there to see whether anyone else will get it!  This is a quick illustration of the chorus from the Greg Brown song Rooty Toot Toot for the Moon that I did for a Journal 52 prompt.  If you haven’t heard the song, it is ridiculously catchy and makes absolutely no sense.  I adore it.

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

"i can call him up and tell him what i want!

Jesus.mp3

(first im gonna tell him, again, how i love glorious sound; the tambourine forever convulsing, the concertina and horns in stereo imperfect mirroring, the full stop || to announce the entrance of guitars. the church bells, and beautiful beautiful the one man who comes in wrong towards the end but everyone smiles through. thump thump hit your foot on the floor and all this worry goes away. and ry cooder isnt even really supposed to be cool, is he?)

am i sick? do i want to get well? is such a goal possible? i am goalless, theres just thump thump this beat, and merely attending to each new downbeat, thats what im going to do. after every hit of the drum there another one coming up. on it. right now im riding fast through midnight a slipper of ice, and the walls of night are a million cymbals suspended and waiting for my playful picket fence stick. im hitting more than ever...abandon the metaphor for a moment and revel in the quotidian count, ive got 7 plays lined up for the first 6 months of next year, and i am thrilled psychedelic sick about each and everyone. listen: a cabaret, a song played on a solo saxophone, a train to catch, a gun goes rooty toot toot, russian rock n roll beamed into outer space, prayer both silent and full, and finally a birth of light. i must be fucking crazy. i must be! am i sick? do i want to get well? these seven bursts of metal with wonderful souls talent so beautiful, none of them will be the single goal, each night will be another cymbal sizzle crash through starlit wind flying past me as im riding so recklessly down the hill, weaving past cars technicolor lit, and its going to blur in the speed to just one stream of light pouring out exhausted. i love the challenge, the sleepless push to hit every next note, keep playing, keep going, i want it. 

i can call him up and tell him what i want!

do i want more than this? im making a living at it now. im paying the rent on these outbursts now; and the people are good, everyones mind is reeling in another way and i love the laughs each one gives me. how can i ever come close to knowing them all? is there room for me? do i want more than them? maybe, maybe. real success, that elusive flame of fame, ha ha my musical opening on broadway in 2007, my god, why not, why not. i can call him after all, and ask him for this, right? what i want. what i want. 

when the whiskey veil wears away for just a second i look down at my hands and they are white knuckled for im freezing cold causing im going so fucking fast and i forgot my gloves or i lost them in a bar on mission street or in the bart station, but i cant go back because i jumped the gate, i jumped the gate again almost every day a bart train renegade heart racing fast everyday but i cant remember right now. i must be crazy. there are so many things to wrap your hands in anyway...and look at her with her mittens fingerless, and her with her hat fizz fuzz blue, and her with her legs i can see fishnet stockings, garter and all, under a wider fishnet hose, that lovely leg all wrapped twice. every woman around me wrapped up different and my fingers trembling no matter where or when for a little more warmth, a fabric new always, why? why? i must be crazy wanting that when ive already got those eyes to get so lost in that temperature vanishes like direction in the dark, floating through centigrade in a shivering sweat flawlessly true. i must be crazy, but i can ask him, what i want, what i want.

i dont want anything, i dont. god, please i dont. please let that be the truth. cause ill get so sad if i want it and dont have it and ive got so much right now that im almost blind. i can be what i want to be/i can choose whatever heaven grants. but i just want to be whatever heaven grants, any cymbal so bright and lovely to be seen when im riding fast like this, god its like a new moon gold in the sky! crash a cymbal that i want to hear ring clear, crash peel, i want to hear them PEEL!

and i fear the shallowness, maybe theres too much and im not there deep where i could be. theres someone ive known as long as possible in real pain and i cant understand it really, cause i felt real pain once and said never again? no, surely not? that was so little...

but solo now so: lo the cymbals, 

only the cymbals and my bike out of control too fast, but god theyre so glorious shiny! ive been working on riding no handed so i can grab a stick in both hands and catch my ears in the nodes and hear a mountain range valley strange of waves in the cold night air.

one asked me, why do i perform? i cant answer you, i cant. i have no idea. its what im here to give? its just there and its beautiful and thats all i can do. maybe im doing too much? i can barely feel.

tomorrow ill make the drummer a vegetable lasagna in exchange for a haircut, god my hair is so long, its the only helmet ill wear. i know how to make a good vegetable lasagna; i just have to pick the right vegetables, and only a few, so that its about *mushrooms*, or its about *broccoli*, its about the *one* taste, dont lose it, dont lose it//

(but on cannery row hazel pours all the half drunk drinks into a single jug, and comes home with a wild punch maybe champagne spiked one night and fernet the next. one taste. 

i have no idea what all of this tastes like, 

i have no idea what god looks like, 

i have no idea how there can be so many sounds in the universe that when i open my mouth next time ill sing one brand new song, once and only once always one note to the next never ending, never goal, just sound all the way SHHHOOM! to the end of the universe getting absorbed by all around it cymbalstars bursting and dying brand new)"

-Dave Malloy, December 09 2005