A Tinsley Tale

February 10 2010

I have a story to tell to all those who care to listen. It isn't until today that I record it here, on my blog. The night began as any other, sitting alone my room. I had just finished writing a bibliography for my Introduction to Information Technology and Informatics class and handed it in electronically 6 minutes short of its due date. I recline in my chair a indulge in a moments respite. At precisely midnight someone comes knocking on my door. "Hurry, come outside, there's a war on!"

I grab my hat, coat, scarf, goggles, and boots. Run outside. A battle stretched out before me. Between the dorms an array of snowballs fly back and forth. I look up at one of the dorms, Tinsley. On the fourth floor the enemy waves a flag at us. Taunting us. For it is the Demarest flag. The flag of our dorm. Previously that day it was stolen from us by assailants. The rage builds within me. "No" I whisper to myself.

I turn to a comrade. I say "So help me God I shall restore the honor of Demarest and return that flag to it's rightful owners."

The man looks at me with fear in his eyes and says "But... that's suicide,"

"No, that's war"

And with a flourish I run towards Tinsley while I can hear the protests of my associates behind me. "No! Come Back!" ... never.

I make my way around the back of the enemy base. Behind enemy lines, I remove my hat, scarf, and goggles. They make it too obvious that I am from Demarest. Just as a fresh battalion of Tinsley men storm out I seize my chance. Silently I slide into the building just as the door closes.

I'm in. Now what. The building is more complex then I thought, There is an elevator, but that would take too long. I go for the stairs. I see enemy voyeurs watching through their windows the battle unfold, unaware of the infiltrator lurking behind them. I reach to top floor. I search endlessly for the flag. But to no avail, it is nowhere to be found. "Damn it" I sit and watch along with the enemy. Trying to blend.

Outside the battle rages. Fights break out. It's hell on earth. Finally the police arrive. They break up the battle. For a moment, the attention of one of the viewers breaks. He glances at me, does a double-take and says, quite loudly "Who the hell are you?"

I am discovered.

"I am from Demarest. And I have come to take back what is rightfully ours"

"We don't believe you, you could be anybody! Prove it!"

Slowly, I put on my scarf, newsie cap, and goggles.

Whispers: "My God, he must be from Demarest"

"Now give me back our flag and I shall return in peace"

They say they have been looking for it, but someone had hidden away in their private quarters.

"Curses" I say under my breath.

So for the next hour I introduce my self and engage in small talk.

A young man with some sort of social disorder introduces himself as "Greg"

A woman introduces herself as "Maria"

I later tell her that she has questionable morals. She attempts to accost me, but rather falls into me. Luckily I had a friend on the inside who could vouch for my genuine identity.

Outside the police have finally forced everyone back into their respective dorms.

I hear the stomping of feet coming up the stairs.

Something is wrong.

Coming through the door are seven or ten of the most testosterone-filled, creatine-sucking, red-faced inbreds I've ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. One young man in particular, comes in, points at me and says "Who the fuck are you?" Someone says "He's from Demarest, he's come to get his flag"

The man says "Well I don't like him. Get him out"

Lacking any formal introduction, I resort to calling him "The Rat." He has a shaved head, deep sunk eyes (as if someone had punched him in both eyes simultaneously), and wearing a wife-beater and shorts.

I say to the Rat, "I am simply here to take back what is mine"

He sits down in a wheeled-office chair and rolls, menacingly, towards me. As if that would frighten me. I was laughing inside but dared not to show it.

"Let's negotiate"

"Okay" I say

"Let me see you wallet"

(Oh God, I have my wallet in my coat pocket, and it has at least $50 in it)

"I don't have it on me"

"Well how much is in it?"

"You mean back in my room?"

"Yeah"

"About $20" I lie

"How many floors are there in Demarest?"

"3"

"Okay... if you get $40 from each floor in Demarest, I'll give you your flag back"

A man standing behind me says "No we want $1,000!"

I say, "I'm sorry, we don;t have that much to give"

The Rat says "Okay fine, do you know any one who sells cocaine?"

I see Maria urging me to leave. Luckily I still had the women who I charmed earlier protecting me.

"Why yes, yes I do"

"Good. If you get me 20 grams of cocaine, you can have your flag"

"20GRAMS???" I cry. "That's at least $2,000! You're insane!"

"At that comment I knew it was time for me to leave.

I back up slowly. But the Rat follows me on his chair. He grabs my legs and screams "Kiss me on the cheek!"

"I'm sorry darling, we aren't meant to be" I say

The Rat, in desperation: "Rub my chest and tell me you love me!"

"I must go now"

I release myself from his grip. I run out of the building saying:

"I love you all, I'll come back and visit soon!"

I return to my dorm and receive a heroes welcome.

"He's alive!" "He has returned to us!"

La Règle du jeu

-Now you've played my game

I can see it in your eyes

Rainclouds in otherwise sunny skies

-

Ne Me Quitte Pas

I will give you pearls of rain

From countries where it never rains

I will dig up the earth even in death

To cover your body with gold and with light

I will make a kingdom

Where love shall be king

Where love shall be law

Where you shall be queen

From Me to You (A List of Likes)

Me

Clocks

White socks

Lavender fields

Hiding in plain sight

Hide and go seek at night

Snow falling through a streetlight

Tasting through the steam off of tea

Puncturing the skin of an orange

Drinking juice from a wine glass

Taking time to tie shoes

Piano concertos

Wearing a suit

Screaming

Midnight cereal

Cold showers before bed

The sound of a door unlocking

A symphony of ticking pocket watches

The smell of a pack of gum after there's none left

Sitting at sidewalk cafes long after I've finished my drink

Reading the directions on shampoo bottles

Climbing a tree until you can go no higher

Holding a pizza on your lap in the car
A head resting on my shoulder

Windowless rooms

Sweet perfumes

Holding hands in the dark

Hearing a far-away dog bark

Launching bottle rockets twelve at a time
Touching one of everything in an aisle at the supermarket

Spending hours on a meal only to watch others enjoy it
Being face-to-face with tomato soup
The taste of sterling silver

Looking up at a tree

Hammocks

Beheading a boiled egg

Trays designed for breakfast in bed
The cracking sounds of a new book being opened

Cleaning out the holes from a hole-puncher

Pulling the hairs off of black clothes

Crying in front of a mirror

Grinding pepper

Pacing in a public bathroom
Pretending I'm being followed
Stealing stirring straws from cafes
Jumping on ketchup packets
Being muddy

Moss

Creek water

Deep holes in old trees

Roots that come up from the ground

Building a model out of paper then setting it on fire
Thinking out loud while walking naked around my house
Slipping in the shower and catching myself at the last second

Pushing people around in wheelchairs while we talk

Having a hotel swimming pool to myself
Bed and breakfasts

Practicing faces

Punching through a wall

Flowers in unexpected places

Stars reflected off a pond in the woods

Running until I can't run anymore

Hidden passages in old buildings

Water washing away sand

Walking on thin ice

Sudden urgency

Umbrellas

Southern sunsets

Slowly sinking into wet sand

Lying on the beach with a book on my face

When you can see a rainstorm from a distance

The second of blindness after a camera flash

A silent film in a crowded room

Witnessing car accidents

Scaring my brother

Digging holes

White walls

Waterfalls

Air dusters

Honey mustard

Watching someone fall asleep

Pretending to take notes

Dirt on my nose

Band-aids

Scavenger hunts

Catching food in my mouth

Burying something and finding it years later

Watching movies together
Sharing my world

Learning truth
Finding love

Living

You

Laugh

Is this what madness feels like? Hahaha! I love it! There's an energy in my stomach and it rises slowly up my throat until it comes out of my mouth in the shape of a strained cackle. I throw my head back and try to eat the sky. My fingers. My fingers are the most changed of all. They cannot stay straight. They keep changing shape. Tense and strained like so many caterpillars weaving their cocoons. They claw at something. I fall onto the floor in euphoric agony. Hahaha! God you are a cruel master! But he makes slaves of us all. We must thank him for that. Freedom is a curse you bohemian liberals. Loveless slavery! War or death! SOMETHING MUST HAPPEN! Stand alone. Stand alone and be silently judged! AGHHHH! I can feel the pump of adrenaline through my veins as every muscle tries to escape my body. Writhing with a joyous fervor I've never felt! The music swells! The colors move! Destroy something! Create something! What will it amount to? The world is a joke you idiot. Yes you. IT'S FUNNY! IT'S HILARIOUS! Finally I've let it go. I've slipped. Finally I've admitted to being stupid. I can't understand and no poet or scientist ever will. My bones turn to iron. My muscles turn to slugs. Sinking now. Sinking into the floor of sand. Warmth. A warmth fills my body. I am calm. My body has stopped. My heart beats. Slower and slower. This is incredible. It's like every part of you, inside and out is being tickled. Ants crawl and spiders eat the ants and birds eat the spiders and the birds lay eggs and the eggs hatch and the chicks fall out of the nest and a snake eats the helpless chicks and the snake bites a man who just stepped on an anthill. It's a joke. Ouroborus. It's just a joke. I'm slipping off the ground. Slowly collapsing. Like a snow melting into the ground over the course of a day. Down. Down. Into the ground. My fingers. I haven't blinked. I must write now. I must write this down. I must learn. I can't say this wasn't self-induced. Namdam a fo edisni deppart m'i, pleh.

See Now How The World Cries

Well I haven't said anything about my New Years resolution. And there are parts I won't tell you. It's like making a wish and hoping it comes true; telling people ruins the magic. But I suppose there are some things that I'm willing to share. Firstly, it is my goal to start acting like a gentleman again. It's something that happens over the course of a year. As the weather gets warmer I become more considerate and pleasant to be around. The cold just makes me cynical and depressed. Of course, the hardest part about being chivalrous is finding someone worthy of your chivalry. There are few people I can think of who deserve such a title. Lady. But as a gentleman, you must treat everyone equally with courtesy and respect, regardless of class or grace. "May I help you cross the street" "Could I escort you back to your home" "I don't mean to interpose but you look absolutely radiant" Let me tell you a story about the day I decided to fall in love with every attractive woman I met. I would walk up to any woman of notable exception and introduce myself thusly: "Excuse me, I couldn't help but see you smile from across the room. You are by far one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon. Good day." Then I would bow and walk away. Every time I evoked some sort of nervous laughter and, on occasion, even name-calling. But it was not the act itself that was important. It was the stares I got from these beauties afterwards that made my heart soar. I assure you, there are still some romantics out there who still long for a knight in shining armor, and I was prepared to slay any dragon in any kingdom near or far just for that look. I could see in their eyes a certain wonder and excitement at my unexpected act of kindness. Perhaps it was not for me per se, but for that decent quality in men. That quality that makes every woman feel like a lady. But to admit it to their friends? Never! Sadly the world has lost it's appetite for table manners and polite conversation. Ah mon cher compatriote, while the women of this world secretly desire a decent hard-working man, they only chase after the men who ignore and abuse them. How self-destructive feminine youth are today. It makes my stomach churn. I say with absolute modesty and a fair amount of certainty that I can treat a woman better than most men my age, but what do I get for it? Rejection, a nervous laugh, a mockery. Its hard being a 21st century gentleman. Especially when there are so few true ladies about. It's why I've all but given up.
In my Junior year of high school our Theater department put on the stage adaptation of the Charles Dickens masterpiece Great Expectations. I played Mr. Jaggers (seen in the picture), the lawyer who delivers young Pip to London for him to become a gentleman. I learned alot from that play. Especially that women are tender things that the world treats harshly. All I want is to protect. All I want is to protect.

#19. A real gentleman never backs off when he's challenged, always standing up for himself and his values.

I'll be a gentleman again. Even if it means warm dishonesty, staunch courtesy, and showering daily.

"And the communication I have got to make is, that he has Great Expectations."

Just Words

One is the loneliest number. But that's the way we get by. I'm listening to Brittany Murphy sing Faster Kill Pussycat. The song that introduced me to Paul Oakenfold and I never even realized it featured her. I'm a little sadder now. I've made a playlist with one song from all of my favorite bands. It's just about reached 200 songs. I have very little to complain about. I realize that I truthfully am very accepting of all art forms. I think it has to do with me as an actor. I have to be able to justify any point of view. If I play an 18 year old serial killer I have to be able to say "he deserved it" will full conviction. If I play a middle-aged transvestite I have to be able to put on heels and enjoy it. If I play a dying grandfather I have to cry about my wasted life as if it had already passed. I'm convinced that every human being has their own sanity as long as they are human. Any portrait or sculpture has a purpose and justification for existing. Every song or strum of the guitar is beautiful to somebody. Each short story or gossip column has its value. Each photograph has its unspoken words. I see the best in things. I suppose its my biggest flaw. So I hide it. I'm argumentative, critical, and sometimes I'm just mean. Plain old mean. I just want the world to know that I'm constantly making the conscious decision to disagree.
I love beauty. And I'm very good at seeing beauty in all things. And by some jealous urge I suppress my compliments and instead point out flaws. If I just said that everything was dandy nothing would happen. The artist would be content and stop there. By some sort of deep-seated altruism in my heart I want people to succeed above all. Telling them they aren't doing enough pushes any self-respecting artist to that success. The greatest compliment I've ever received was from my acting teacher last year: "You're a thinker. Stop that."
I love you all more than you can know. I just show it in a very... VERY different way. If your wondering what the picture is about, its Russian surgeon Leonid Rogozov performing an auto-appendectomy in an Antarctic military base when no other trained staff were available for months. He didn't use anesthetics. The surgery lasted an hour and forty-five minutes and he never lost consciousness. What a guy.