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damalurbackup) wrote2009-03-20 03:06 pm
damalurbackup) wrote2009-03-20 03:06 pm
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she has come possessed by the skies
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fannish5:
List 5 storylines that were never really resolved to your satisfaction.
1:- X/1999. I'm not sure this actually counts, since the series remains technically unfinished, but as long as it remains unfinished I reserve the right to be dissatisfied.
2:- Harry Potter, specifically the house unity thing. We kept getting these warnings that the four houses must unite, but I feel like this really never came to fruition. On the whole, the Slytherins remained cookie-cutter bad-guys.
3:- Pirates of the Caribbean. Between the after-credits scene in AWE, releases by the writers, and DVD leaflets, who really knows if Will's curse is broken or not?
4:- Twilight. Big surprise, right? I don't feel like the tension between Bella and Jacob was really resolved so much as magically waved away.
5:- X-Men. I'd love for them to do something more with Gambit's stint as Death.
I am not going to get sucked into writing for this fandom...
I was reading this poem by Dylan Thomas earlier -
Love in the Asylum
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
And that meandered around in my brain and finally connected up with this. Maybe I'll finish it someday? Who knows.
01.
There's this sort of singing, in her head, and at the best of times it's beautiful and at the worst of times it's beautiful and all the time it's so exquisite she can hardly stand it, the singing in her head that reminds her of the bars on the windows in this asylum where she is caged.
Nothing she had known in her life before this one could have prepared her for the bars on the windows; and now they say that the life before this one was no life at all, that it's merely the fractured pieces of her mind searching for some pattern and texture and background for reality in the aftermath. Aftermath of what, she wants to scream, but they never answer her and she is falling and for her now the outside is always, always bigger than the in.
-
It starts with Shireen, right? No, that's not it, that's the men in the lab coats talking. She refuses to call them doctors, as far as she can tell they don't help anyone, not really. That gets some of them all up and angry, she can tell, but she doesn't care, because they can lock her away in this place and they can tell her that her mind is not her own but there are some things they cannot take from her, some things she refuses to let them take from her, and she will not be passive.
Except.
Really.
There are some things they can take.
-
It starts with Shireen, right? She gets these moments of lucidity after she meets Shireen. Coming out of your delusions, there's a good girl, the white-coats say.
Funny, though. When she's not thinking, she always recalls Shireen as being her own age and brunette, not the middle-aged woman with mousy hair that keeps burning her hands on the lightbulbs because she can never remember that they blaze.
02.
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and three years ago she was twenty when she came to this place. Wealthy father, doting mother, one younger sibling.
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and she is twenty and she came to this place two years ago. Single mother, no siblings -
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and she is five and twenty. Orphaned at six months -
-
Her name is Rose Tyler, and she has two parents, and she does not remember their names. She is twenty-three years old, delusional, and she remembers life outside of this place with bars on the windows only in her dreams. Her dreams are not real. She knows this because the white-coats tell her so.
03.
Rose Tyler does not remember life outside of the place with barred windows, but although she does not remember, they brought her to this place when her mind shattered in the middle of a department store and she began tearing wedding dresses from the racks. Looking for the spiders, she'd said, and when three hefty clerks couldn't keep her pinned they called the police, and the police put her in hospital, and finally she was passed to this place, and this place is smaller on the inside.
-
Sometimes she thinks that there are bars on the windows not to keep her within but to keep the outside without. She thinks that if she walked to those windows she could peel the bars away, pinch the bolt at the bottom between her thumb and forefinger and peel the bar away like the backing from an adhesive, and when she thinks these things there is no longer a song in the back of her mind but a screaming void, a place that is beyond time and below time and without time and she is falling.
It seems terribly important for her to remember what time it is, and she births a fascination with clocks that is matched only by Shireen's preoccupation with light.
-
"Rose Tyler," says the white-coat. "They say you hear music, all the time. In your head." He smiles at her and leans in, leans closer, and there's something manic about his grin, something wolfish. "Do you hear drumming?"
"Sorry," Rose says, and bares her teeth back at him. "Drumming?"
"War drums," the white-coat says.
Rose tilts her head; if she listens just so, there's a low thrum, but she doesn't like the way this white-coat is beating his pen against his clipboard, so she frowns and her teeth flash white and quick. "Sorry," she says again. "No drumming."
"Defender of the Earth. How grand," the white-coat says, and then snorts. "You are completely insane."
"Sorry," Rose says. "But do you know the time?"
The white-coat gives her a double thumbs-up.
04.
And when he pulls her from the darkness she is chanting one thing frantically, over and over again: not his name, but her own.
-
When Rose Tyler is twenty-three and delusional, she meets John Smith, who is thirty-three and ageless and wearing a blue bathrobe. "Do you know," he says, and his spine curves so he can whisper in her ear, but although his lips brush her skin he does not whisper; she's not sure he knows how to whisper. "Do you know," John Smith says, "That I am nine-hundred years old?"
"What, nine hundred?" Rose says. "Really?"
"Look awfully good for nine centuries, don't I, is what you're thinking," he says, and tips her a jaunty wink. She can feel his eyelashes flutter against her cheek.
"Come along, Mister Smith," says the nurse. "Time for your medicine."
"Rose Tyler," John Smith says over his shoulder, as the nurse carts him away.
"Yes," says Rose.
I'm coming to get you, he answers.
fannish5:List 5 storylines that were never really resolved to your satisfaction.
1:- X/1999. I'm not sure this actually counts, since the series remains technically unfinished, but as long as it remains unfinished I reserve the right to be dissatisfied.
2:- Harry Potter, specifically the house unity thing. We kept getting these warnings that the four houses must unite, but I feel like this really never came to fruition. On the whole, the Slytherins remained cookie-cutter bad-guys.
3:- Pirates of the Caribbean. Between the after-credits scene in AWE, releases by the writers, and DVD leaflets, who really knows if Will's curse is broken or not?
4:- Twilight. Big surprise, right? I don't feel like the tension between Bella and Jacob was really resolved so much as magically waved away.
5:- X-Men. I'd love for them to do something more with Gambit's stint as Death.
I am not going to get sucked into writing for this fandom...
I was reading this poem by Dylan Thomas earlier -
Love in the Asylum
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
And that meandered around in my brain and finally connected up with this. Maybe I'll finish it someday? Who knows.
01.
There's this sort of singing, in her head, and at the best of times it's beautiful and at the worst of times it's beautiful and all the time it's so exquisite she can hardly stand it, the singing in her head that reminds her of the bars on the windows in this asylum where she is caged.
Nothing she had known in her life before this one could have prepared her for the bars on the windows; and now they say that the life before this one was no life at all, that it's merely the fractured pieces of her mind searching for some pattern and texture and background for reality in the aftermath. Aftermath of what, she wants to scream, but they never answer her and she is falling and for her now the outside is always, always bigger than the in.
-
It starts with Shireen, right? No, that's not it, that's the men in the lab coats talking. She refuses to call them doctors, as far as she can tell they don't help anyone, not really. That gets some of them all up and angry, she can tell, but she doesn't care, because they can lock her away in this place and they can tell her that her mind is not her own but there are some things they cannot take from her, some things she refuses to let them take from her, and she will not be passive.
Except.
Really.
There are some things they can take.
-
It starts with Shireen, right? She gets these moments of lucidity after she meets Shireen. Coming out of your delusions, there's a good girl, the white-coats say.
Funny, though. When she's not thinking, she always recalls Shireen as being her own age and brunette, not the middle-aged woman with mousy hair that keeps burning her hands on the lightbulbs because she can never remember that they blaze.
02.
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and three years ago she was twenty when she came to this place. Wealthy father, doting mother, one younger sibling.
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and she is twenty and she came to this place two years ago. Single mother, no siblings -
Her name is Rose Marion Tyler, and she is five and twenty. Orphaned at six months -
-
Her name is Rose Tyler, and she has two parents, and she does not remember their names. She is twenty-three years old, delusional, and she remembers life outside of this place with bars on the windows only in her dreams. Her dreams are not real. She knows this because the white-coats tell her so.
03.
Rose Tyler does not remember life outside of the place with barred windows, but although she does not remember, they brought her to this place when her mind shattered in the middle of a department store and she began tearing wedding dresses from the racks. Looking for the spiders, she'd said, and when three hefty clerks couldn't keep her pinned they called the police, and the police put her in hospital, and finally she was passed to this place, and this place is smaller on the inside.
-
Sometimes she thinks that there are bars on the windows not to keep her within but to keep the outside without. She thinks that if she walked to those windows she could peel the bars away, pinch the bolt at the bottom between her thumb and forefinger and peel the bar away like the backing from an adhesive, and when she thinks these things there is no longer a song in the back of her mind but a screaming void, a place that is beyond time and below time and without time and she is falling.
It seems terribly important for her to remember what time it is, and she births a fascination with clocks that is matched only by Shireen's preoccupation with light.
-
"Rose Tyler," says the white-coat. "They say you hear music, all the time. In your head." He smiles at her and leans in, leans closer, and there's something manic about his grin, something wolfish. "Do you hear drumming?"
"Sorry," Rose says, and bares her teeth back at him. "Drumming?"
"War drums," the white-coat says.
Rose tilts her head; if she listens just so, there's a low thrum, but she doesn't like the way this white-coat is beating his pen against his clipboard, so she frowns and her teeth flash white and quick. "Sorry," she says again. "No drumming."
"Defender of the Earth. How grand," the white-coat says, and then snorts. "You are completely insane."
"Sorry," Rose says. "But do you know the time?"
The white-coat gives her a double thumbs-up.
04.
And when he pulls her from the darkness she is chanting one thing frantically, over and over again: not his name, but her own.
-
When Rose Tyler is twenty-three and delusional, she meets John Smith, who is thirty-three and ageless and wearing a blue bathrobe. "Do you know," he says, and his spine curves so he can whisper in her ear, but although his lips brush her skin he does not whisper; she's not sure he knows how to whisper. "Do you know," John Smith says, "That I am nine-hundred years old?"
"What, nine hundred?" Rose says. "Really?"
"Look awfully good for nine centuries, don't I, is what you're thinking," he says, and tips her a jaunty wink. She can feel his eyelashes flutter against her cheek.
"Come along, Mister Smith," says the nurse. "Time for your medicine."
"Rose Tyler," John Smith says over his shoulder, as the nurse carts him away.
"Yes," says Rose.
I'm coming to get you, he answers.
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No. Seriously, finish that.
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