Brain Drool [Character Sketchs in Four/Four Time, Part 2]

more poetry dribble from the mess of a story in my head. Firstly a bit of commentary from Seth(well his alter-ego anyway)that talks a bit about the political situation in the beginning of the story. As bit of an explanation on the government of Islin; It is a Monarchy (always ruled by a queen) but a new Queen is chosen every twenty years by the Joint Council made up of the heads of the Noble Houses, Guild leaders, and the High Priests of different faiths. The New Queen is always a female blood relative of the current Queen who has put in a petition to be considered. There a list of criteria that has to be met before you can even put a petition in, including three years living with the lower classes. The current Queen is ill with three years left in her term and only two have put in their petitions; the Queen's youngest cousin, Winnedell and the Queen's niece Rÿche. So when Prince Ethan's(the Queen's son) daughter Laura-Jane arrives at the University it causes a bit of a stir. there is a lot more background involving the first queen Glorianna and the founding of Islin and how the country has drifted from her vision for it but I'm still working out all the details. Like I said, it's just a big mess in my head right now...

Anyways, this would be Seth on the state of the country before Laura's arrival:

Good Morning and Welcome [Jimmy Shadow]

Good morning and welcome
To the end of an age
Islin's a powder-keg
Of political rage
Our glory is tarnished
Our values a lie
But I never believed
In live and let die

Son of a noble and a gypsy bitch
I have no patience for the lives of the rich
I had it all but I threw it away
No one's ever gonna tell me what to say

Winnedell's just a clone of the Queen
Stagnation of tradition is the name of the scene
Stick with her and watch the Monarchy rust
Nothing will change, that's what we can trust
I pity all the working class heroes
Her wardrobe alone
Will turn the treasury to zeros

Welcome to the breakdown
Watch Glorianna's vision burn to the ground
Why are we just standing idly by?
Does nobody care that we're living a lie?
Glorianna your children betrayed you
All signs agree that Islin's dream is through

We all heard the rumors of Rÿche's tragedy
But she doesn't get much sympathy from me
Poisoned honey falls from her lips
And I don't wanna be here when the mask slips
Can you hear the mission-bells ringing?
Their mournful hymns
Are all that we'll be singing

So, good morning and welcome
To the end of an age
Islin is falling
Let's throw a parade
All hope is gone
So fare thee well
Three years from now
I'll see you in hell

and now the thoughts of Ethan Mars and Kieran Drayke (Laura and Sam's fathers) on the decisions they made to try and save their country:

Father's Lament [Ethan, Kieran]

I can never ask for your forgiveness
I did what must be done
But will our hope's survival
Be worth a daughter's love?
You must be beyond dispute
When you put your paper in
For if the favored daughter rises
Islin's doomed again
A danger now is waking
And stretching in the west
And none who See now can say
If we'll survive the final test
And so I cut all ties with you
But leave you with my name
I can never be your father
Just another player in the game

My burden now I pass too you
It's weight your soul bescars
A demon on a leash
To protect the Star of Mars
Glorianna's dream is fading
And pious snakes are creeping in
Blood to blood the war is starting
Steeped in purity and sin
Don't think your heart will never fail
You won't be always in the right
And no one now can comfort you
From your terrors in the night
So keep the Star from straying
And don't think that you'll survive
You won't ever be the same again
If you make it out alive

My friend, My loyal brother
What have we doomed our children too?
We've given up our future
So Islin will make it through

Brain Drool [Character Sketchs in Four/Four Time]

This is just word dribble from work again as I try and get a good handle on a couple of my characters. I'm finally back to writing swords-and-horses type fantasy again but this time around my plot is very political and twisty rather then the straight forward quest-and-destroy-the-bad-guy plots from my younger years. Much more challenging for me because every character has different motivations for what they are doing and all of them are going to have to compromise their ethics at some point to get where they want. Fiction writing as an adult is a lot less fluffy then when I was a kid and with a lot more subtext to keep track of. Anyways, this is dribble from Laura and Rÿche (pronounced:rike), who are my protagonist and antagonist respectively and is just me trying to get my sense of them down.

My protagonist's thoughts at the very beginning of the story:

Overture [Laura-Jane]

This is my home
Whither go I now?
Far away from rock so rusted red
And bridges made rope and wood
This is my home
How can they ask me now
Just to leave it all behind
For the sake of a man who shares my name?

What could I care about there
In that city made of grey unending stone
What secrets could I learn
That would ever make me yearn for more
Than just the sights of my canyon home?

They say this was the way
It was meant to always be
But no one ever thought to let me know
That I was going to have to go
The road ahead is winding
And I cannot see the path
Now all that's left is wondering
Who will I become in the aftermath?

and then again towards the end of the first book:

Reprise [Laura-Jane]

This is my home
Where will the Heiress lead us
If I choose to turn away this day
And go back to the life I used to know?
This is my home
Jimmy, I won't be your Glorianna
But I can only try my best
to rise up to the challenge of a country in unrest

The ink is drying on the paper
As my heart beats now in fear
Elliana is so sick that
She might not last the year
And with Winnie's death I know
That I am all that stands between
A madwoman and Islin's Golden Throne



And a peek inside the head of my antagonist:

Requiem for a Doll [Rÿche]

Everyone has heard the rumors
The scars that mar my skin are hidden
But still within the public view
Where is the child who chased butterflies?
She died

Little sister, little broken doll
I can fix you so you will never crack again
Little sister, little broken doll
I can make the pain you feel now never come again
Take my hand
Let me remake you better than before

Recast in porcelain and ice I stand
A testament to the frailty of man
So many that have gone astray
Will not be saved as I was that day
The pain it caused has long been gone
But the scars can never truly be undone

The laws that stood to break my soul
Shall soon be torn asunder
A new regime is rising now
Godless heathens testify
Death to those who dare defy
It's really just a mercy on your soul

Little sister, little broken doll
You will never crack and fall
Little sister, little broken doll
This much I shall promise you
The world will see when we are through
Just how wrong their sainted Glorianna was

Brain Drool [Fallen Angels Don't Have Hearts]

This is the segment where I let a little bit of what exists beyond the tourist sites in my brain dribble out for you to see. This time its an old poem of mine that I found about ten minutes ago. I think it was about my character Tristan Sorrow, but I don't remember.


Fallen Angels Don’t Have Hearts

Born in sorrow, blood and bone
When treacherous Heaven espied
Malicious mistakes in a lost heart
Cast out while angels cried

Wandering in a unknown wasteland
So far from the comforts known
Blackened wings spread in supplication
While a hatred inside had grown

Where light once beat beneath the breast
Now festering darkness coiled
Cursed now to sorrow and rage
Until insouciant Heaven is foiled

A hand is raised to the stars above
And falls as they turn away
Never to feel their gaze again
Forsaken ‘til Judgment Day

Dismissed as simply broken
A soul beyond disrepair
Crawled beneath the barren earth
To shun the sun’s harsh glare

Betwixt the moon and trees
Unseen by the blinded stars
A crown of thorns is passed
A son of prophecy it bescars

And when Judgment Day arrives
Blackened wings shall rend the white
A heartless soul will mourn
The death of Heaven’s light.

Uncultured Friday [CATS]

A lot of the subtle programming in our minds comes from the many forms of media available to us, especially in this age. Now I am not saying that we should attempt to live in a vacuum to prevent this nor is this going to be a rant against modern technology. One, that would be uncomfortable and at times very loud (though I am sure the dustbunnies would enjoy the company), and two, I quite like my many forms of media. However I do feel we should be aware of how what we watch/listen/read make up part of our fundamental thought process. It is only then that we can decide if that influence is something we like or something that is no longer working for us.

So much of my life had been spent face down in one book or another, lost in the lyrics of a song, embroiled in the world of a movie, as I desperately searched for a way to escape the dissatisfaction with my own reality. Trying to pick apart twenty-two years of novels and musicals, news and documentaries, songs and TV shows and see what is it that makes those special ones stick with me, and which ones are just further tangling my thoughts in the net, is not going to be easy. So I'm going to do a weekly post, on whatever bit of pop culture I am currently caught up in or was at one point.

To start with I am going to take my current obsession and long standing interest in the musical CATS. Based on a book of poems by T.S. Eliot the musical first opened in London in 1981 before hitting Broadway in 1982. The first time I ever saw Cats was on a battered VHS that I rented from the Flagstaff Public Library. It wouldn't be until I was twenty that I would actually get to see it live (which always leaves more of an impact on me with musicals). I'm not going to review the play, suffice to say I enjoy it still, but I am inclined to look at the characters that I like the most and think on what that says about me.

First and foremost is Mr. Mistoffelees



The young, eager magician of the Jellicle clan; it's of no surprise that he was my favorite character from the very first. As a little girl(well tomboy) who spent most of her time wielding a magical staff (read PVC pipe), banishing evil squirrels and crushing the small child eating plants that populated my back yard (which was admittedly ten acres of trees so it was a lot of ground to cover), the young sorcerer-cat was always going to be the one I identified with the most.

Next of course we have the Rum Tum Tugger



If Misto was the character of my youth then Tug was definitely the character of my teen years. Of course looking back now it is amusing how closely entwined the two characters are in the story. Tug is the David Bowie of cats and would definitely be the one to capture my attention as I discovered exactly what the word libido meant. He's the flashy showman who gives Misto his moment to shine and perhaps there is a part of me that simply wanted the same acknowledgment. I wanted to be special, not the outsider, and I wanted someone to notice that. (And if the noticing was done by some hot popular guy...well that would be lovely) Such is the thoughts of silly adolescent girl (ok, still a tomboy, but really...) I suppose. I won't deny I still enjoy watching Tug gyrate about the stage.

And lastly we come to Munkustrap, the proud protector of the Jellicle clan and narrator of the play. He is the character I seem to identify with as I move out of adolescence and into adulthood. He looks after his clan, tries to protect them as best as he can. He is the storyteller, always part of the action but at the same time somehow apart from it. I'm still chewing over the correlations between his actions and my own. I have my own group of friends that I like to look after, to defend, to tell my silly little stories too. Sometimes I take myself a bit too seriously, as it appeared he did sometimes too. So I leave you with one last clip, one I chose because it is Munkustrap as a storyteller (which I always will be, good or not) not quite as in control of the situation as he would like (as I often am) and simply because I love the mental absurdity of people pretending to be cats pretending to be dogs.



Presto!

[Yes the doodle of Misto is mine and yes I was aware that I cannot draw felines at all]
[all clips are from youtube user MrMistoffelees666, I just borrowed them to illustrate my point, so credit where credit is due, but I think you are smart enough to realize that.]

Redirect. Fnord

From time to time I will post things that I find elsewhere. It may have some relevance to things I have been talking about it, but it probably won't. You could try and find a connection if you want, it probably wouldn't be that hard, but it's not necessary.

Words are a huge part of my life. As a self style writer (self-styled because two poems published in an obscure book does not an author make) I live and breathe words. But even I find that I don't always stop to consider what a word means or where it comes from. Or how it could be used differently, thereby opening up a whole new door you never before knew existed.

Example:

ver·dant
   /ˈvɜrdnt/ [vur-dnt]
–adjective
1.
green with vegetation; covered with growing plants or grass: a verdant oasis.
2.
of the color green: a verdant lawn.
3.
inexperienced; unsophisticated: verdant college freshmen.

Now I was aware that it meant green vegetation or at least something that would remind you of that. I have used this word often enough as I try to describe the setting in my latest scribble. I did not however know that it could also be used to describe a lack of sophistication, though I have often used green in that capacity. I could have put two and two together, but I never really thought about it. How many connections have I missed? What other words could I slip in place of other, tired ones, even if it has never been done before. I write mostly because I like to tell stories, but sometimes I write to learn things. Write what you know is all well and good, but sometimes one must be willing to write what you don't know. It is then that you discover things.







Five Non-Definitions of Fnord*

being by
Reverend Loveshade,

Episkopos of the Discordian Division of the Ek-sen-triks CluborGuild


* From the Non-Existent Apocrypha Discordia
The following are not the meaning of

Fnord:
1. Not wanting bad grades: "I don't want an F nor D."

2. dronF spelled backwards.

3. You aren't cleared for that information, Citizen.

4. For no other reason, dummy!

5. Fnord

*******************************************************

In the true Discordian tradition, use this thingy freely--just please
credit the author, Reverend Loveshade, Fnord.

Random Thought

Ok, I just have to say that the little fish gadget at the bottom is probably one of the funnest things ever. It has no redeeming value what-so-ever and will probably entertain me for hours.

That is all.

In The Begining

Maybe it's the drugs talking, or maybe it's just four years of life after the world ended, but it's time for a change. Maybe it took my mother's death to make me wake up and realize that while I might have been dreaming about a life that was mine I was living one that was theirs. If you've stumbled here looking for grand revelations I'm not sure I will have anything for you; I'm still stumbling around trying to find my own. Of course that's not to say you won't find any. How should I know? You could find some deep, profound meaning in a throwaway sentence that I will probably never think of again. Life can be like that sometimes; one man's trash and treasure and all that jazz, it's just we don't notice it. If you are here quite by accident (if you believe in accidents) I can only hope you might stay and consider what I have to say, if, on the day you are here, I have anything to say at all.

It started with a story that lead me to a little book and a strange irreligion that I am just fumbling around the edges of.(Yes, I ended a sentence in a preposition. Bite me) I don't know why it called out to me, probably because nonsense had often seemed to make the best sense to me. I gave it a first glance because it looked quirky and I stayed even after I saw it wasn't just about being silly and random. It asks me to think, not what others want me to think, but what I want to think. I'm discovering this is much harder then one would assume, but I am trying and now that I have started I'm not sure if I can stop. I'm not going to pause and explain myself to you along the way (this is for me not you after all) so if there is something you don't understand or want to know more about, I suggest you paste it into your search bar and go find out about it for yourself. That's part of thinking for yourself too and one that I find especially annoying. I liked having everything explained to me, at least in the broadest strokes, but that's still thinking what others think (or want me to think) which is not what is going to lead me out of the dark. I tried that and it got me nowhere or maybe it just got me back to the same somewhere if that is what I meant. The harder I look, the less things make sense, but for some reason I'm almost relieved. As if I never liked the way the world made sense.

So it's time to take the blinders of the horse and get this carriage moving. You can come with me if you would like, or just drop by and see where I am at from time to time. Don't expect all posts to be this obscure, some will be less, some will be more, half the time I will be lying to you (I'm good at it), and half the time I will be lying to myself. Maybe there will be something meaningful in here for you or maybe I'm just beating a dead horse. It doesn't matter; this is what I am going to do.

I am going to think for myself.