necrosongs

When you ultimately failed, once, because they went back on their word, abandoned me, left me without support, they blame me, not themselves. I have given years of my life to people who do not appreciate the literal blood I've spilled in this place.

Now, before I'm even gone they're replacing me. The new manager has been there for all of a month and I've seen him show up hungover, in a mood, late a couple times. No worse than me, I suppose. No better either. I sit on the side of a shallow retention pond, eyes cast skyward, wondering where I went wrong to throw my life away on this place. A month ago I had a seizure for the first time in my life. Even my body is in revolt now. Why did I give anything to this place?

Wet fingers trying to roll wet paper

Bloody tobacco refusing to tamp into

God-given shape, refusing to light

Against open flame in blood-wet rebellion.

Strange the feelings that defined this life

Are the very same it ends in:

Angst and anger and frustration.

The last breath more a damp huff

Than a welcome kiss.

I'm really liking Andor but I'm not excited for anything else. I think stealing the "Tales of the Jedi" title from the old comic run to name this new show is absolutely preposterous. I saw that as a title card and had a brief glimmer of excitement that they might be leaving all these familiar, beat-to-death characters. Then I heard what it was about and couldn't believe it. It's Filoni, but I'm sick of seeing the same old characters.

I've generally heard a middling response from people online about Andor, but critically and popularly it seems like it's being received well. It's odd that the same complaints I've heard about House of the Dragon seem to get leveled at Andor as well.

"It's boring. Nothing is happening."

How do you tell a story if your audience is unwilling to sit through characterization? Conversations, choices, consequences and reactions to consequences; how does anything matter if you don't know what matters to the character?

You have two men on screen. One shoots the other in the head. It's graphic. There's a slick "splump" as his empty head hits the pavement.

Was that a satisfying story? Doubtful. You don't know either character, don't know either story, don't know anything at all about their relationship. It was all action though.

On that intersectional bit of lumber

Welcoming the unwelcomed into that

Unknowable embrace,

Or would it have been better if we'd

Never been forgiven?

I think there is no one I'd like to forgive,

And I hang myself on my own intestine

Weeping that no one and no thing

Can fill the void, the great emptiness

That consumes all and craves more.

Undisciplined, undiscipled,

Unconquered, unforgiven.

Leaving you wondering what it meant

That flesh did not linger in contact, and

Those feelings find purchase in turgid soil.

Clear your lungs, the pipes, all the way down

And let loose those thoughts.

You neglect the moments you have

For the moments you desire.

What did it mean that he kissed you quickly

Before he left for work?

Probably that I was in a hurry to escape

I reach and the only thing I feel is the tangible void.

Where I once connected, there is only the ache of longing for connection.