Intoxicated

The Last of Us

Went a little old school today. Negotiating my health challenges, and hoping The Tumblr doesn't crash. Super excited about Season 2 of the Last of Us coming out this Sunday, but might need to watch after the fact. If you're looking for a fix until then, check out my "Crime and Punishment; Last of Us" hybrid I wrote for Pedge's Bookshop. I'm really proud of the series and it sets us at the doorstep of Season 2. Check it out!

Until then, "endure...and survive..."

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…”

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Sigh. I'm conflicted. I love my blog title, but over the last year I've run into a little resistance. Two anons have questioned the title and last year there was tremendous discord associated with this particular nickname. I think at least one amazing writer has blocked me because of it, and I don't want to be associated with anything even peripherally gross...But I'm also working on finding my own literary voice...as I write about somebody else...ummmmm....

Moody Nathan

I gotta be totally honest: I forgot this character existed. I'm so sorry Pedge. Oh boy. I think I'm gonna owe him extra chocolate chip cookies, he just went in the other room. PEDGE, I'M SORRY!...I must have seen this character back in the day, but I've never seen a fic about him. They must exist! Are you the one to write it??? I think I've got my hands full, making apologies. PEDGE, I CAN HEAT UP SOME HOT CHOCOLATE WHEN THE WEATHER COOLS DOWN??? Gotta go folks...amends must be made...

Moody Whiskey

"I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie's out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.”

Moody Zodiac

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. Dieter has gone animalistic this week, and is exploring all things Jungl-ian, including Zodiac Signs. One of his favorite pieces is Rousseau's Jungle Series which he has taken to paint in the hallways, with his own...questionable additions. His good friend and fellow actor Pedro Pascal has also recommended the Nobel Prize winning novel "Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead" by Olga Tokarczuk. He is currently determined to appear in the live action movie...as a deer, and has invested in a home salt-lick. I for one, have experienced some of the benefits of this devolution into his more base animalistic tendencies, and I have no complaints. Yes, D I will come lie with you on the bear skin rug and tap into our inner beast. Sorry folks, I gotta go...I've managed to stymie his purchase of the local alpaca farm, but I'm not sure how long that will hold. Wish me luck....

Boxed or Unboxed?

Hallo-Weenie Pedge

I think y'all were inspired by this SAG Awards classic look and voted for Pirate Pedge! Pedge and I managed to write a quick limerick for anyone feeling saucy. I hope your Halloween yields excellent booty. Aarrrrrrgh!

Triggers: smut abounds plentifully...

*thank you @saradika-graphics for the cool dividers!

There once was a Pirate named Pedge Who fancied your fancy to edge He traveled the seas His head twixt your knees Your treasure trove he’d give a stretch. On Sundays you’d walk his hard plank Your tooshie he’d give a quick spank He’d shout, “‘Vast there mate!” Your lips penetrate Or watch as you had a quick wank Pirate Pedge never is snooty His hours he’ll spend seeking booty While walking the deck Your pussy he’ll wreck Considering it true beauty’s duty His sword is beyond earthly measure When plowing canals for their treasure When seeking medallions He’s one sexy stallion And always cums after YOUR pleasure On Mondays when feeling quite bold You like a quick tease and a scold He’s captain to you You like playing “crew” And always do just what you’re told. While searching your map for the “X” He’ll spot the right spot during sex Like coins for your slot He’ll leave you besot And edge you till happily vexed Discarding his fancy eye patch His lips to your lips he will latch The seas are quite violent But you are quite pliant And love when that itch will get scratched So here’s to a holiday haul And hoping we all have a ball Whether treating or tricking Licking or flicking A Happy Halloween for ALL!

Fantastic Four

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book. It took me a second to get this man's hair color correct, but I think I'm pleased. Wanted to work something simple without a fic or attached prose...Can't wait for Fantastic Four!

My Darling Muse (iii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Triggers: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, blood, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Rothko's "Red On Maroon", thanks @thecutestgrotto for dividers!

My Darling Muse,

I am a gaping wound, Aligned with your iron fluidity Throbbing with the passion of blood Warming at your scalding touch Like lava, I flow unbidden, a verse of self unhindered and free Pulsing, ebbing, molten and boiling Pistoning forward in poisonous acid, I am the red monster Alight with desire, wings unfurled in splendor and terror I survey all and know little, a word unspoken A thought unuttered, a feeling unrequited, A husk of a shell unravelled, like trinkets in a wind chime My words bounce on a red dawn A red tide that bears stealthy fruition A soundless crimson wave of meaning, Into your chasm I plummet, into the red void I sojourn Feathered wings in pained approach Molt and melt like Icarus, I am the red death I am the maroon birth, I am love alight And rage unaltered (scribbled in margins: Was Rothko bi? Is blood a good paint substitute? What's it like to date a vampire? Can I list myself as a Google location? Online anger management...with goats.)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he even knows who I am, but I also run his TikTok page so he can "commune with the proletariat". His fellow actor and good buddy Pedro Pascal recently recommended "Autobiography of Red" by Anne Carlson. And Dieter has similarly been obsessed with John Logan's production of "Red"....No Dieter, I won't mention you thought it was originally a musical about menstruation...

Pedge's Cinema The Trailer

Concessions Stand @iamasaddie is getting us ready for a true snack! See some of the fics we are going to be covering with Javi this awards season...

Triggers: profanity, alcohol consumption, lite flirtation, disastrous attempts at Italian, easy peezy we're just getting started...

Words: 2.6k

The landlady handed you an archaic looking key that was easily the size of a small brick. You half expected her to give you bottles that said “eat me” and “drink me” in Italian, but she merely snickered tossing her hands up with exasperation. “Idiota americano!” she muttered, not wholly under her breath, closing the ornate door behind her, leaving you alone in the somewhat crumbling apartment.

Guess you didn’t need Google Translate after all.

You looked down at your myriad of belongings, heaped into two large suitcases, and the somewhat dilapidated but charmingly rustic Italian apartment that smiled before you. You had arrived. After about 15 hours and one too many espressos, you found yourself at your Italian residence, anxious to start your teaching internship, yet even more enthusiastic about taking a shower. Finding yourself in your mid-forties, embarking on a summer adventure of this scope seemed an implausibility, as you rubbed at your lower back wincingly. As you shuffled slowly down the narrow hallway, you were exponentially grateful for the study abroad program at the college you had recently gained tenure at. Things were finally starting to amount to professional and personal solidity, so why did you still feel so lost? The bumbling taxi drive hadn’t helped, as you felt for the stale bag of airplane peanuts in your pocket. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d been working with students your entire life and we’re finally exploring the international ways to bring creative techniques to life. But maybe your artistic eyes were somehow bigger than your metaphorical stomach. What were you even doing here? You opened the first door on the left, expecting it to be the water closet and were greeted by the imploring eyes of….a pigeon.

A bona fide pigeon. You blinked back and forth at one another curiously until an unexpected shriek from you caused your temporary flat mate to flutter haphazardly around the room, seeking immediate solace through the nearby open window. Sigh. Expect the unexpected. And, no toilet paper. Obviously. You felt around your pocket for the discarded cocktail napkin. Score. You could do this. Your path might not be clear, but you had earned your summer of adventure. All that remained was to take full advantage of the opportunity, and try to enjoy yourself in the process. Besides, weren’t pigeons a sign of Italian good luck? Maybe they needed to poop on you first. Heading him off at the pass, you quickly locked the window for good measure, taking stock of your surroundings. The shower was a dubious looking pipe that awkwardly found its way to a free standing bath tub. The ceiling of the water closet hovered about two feet above you, as you finally expressed gratitude for your diminutive stature. Finally, being short was working to your advantage, once you figured out how to use the faucets. You returned to your quest, shuffling down the hallway to the first door on the right, finding a queen sized, decorative bed frame showcasing the boudoir and more open windows. Luckily, there was no flora, fauna or fowl this time, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the picturesque view. Dragging your fingers lazily across the veil-like linens you gazed at the idyllic panorama before you. As though mirroring your cinematic dreams, the small Italian town stretched out before you, a winding fantasy of artisan shops, coffee, clotheslines and cobblestone.

What a view. Maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

Savoring the afternoon air, you sat cautiously on the pillowy mattress, a very thin layer of particle dust billowing in the sunlight. But nothing could stop you, as you nestled into the linens for your first nap. Any pigeons were welcome to join you.

A blurry feeling of disorientation greeted you, along with a melodic Italian argument, punctuated by puttering vespas. You blinked lazily at the dusky horizon, propping yourself up on your forearms. Your stomach immediately gurgled in response. You had given yourself several days to acclimate to your new Italian environment, before attending classes and symposiums, but hadn’t really considered what your first order of business would be. The stale bag of peanuts was holding little appeal, so you willed yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to tidy up. The apartment was slightly dilapidated and breezy, but the summer charm was already beginning to work its magic. You laid out your wardrobe on the bed before enjoying a luxurious shower, gazing forebodingly at the ceiling, as though it were about to crash down upon you. Just some getting used to. You looked around the small kitchenette, but only found a teaspoon of dried coffee grounds and what appeared to be some dried olives in the cabinet. Tomorrow’s task; find the nearest farmer’s market.

You had gone to inordinate lengths to make your phone internationally ready, but were already encountering difficulties. Other than a smattering of musical terms, you weren’t seriously proficient in Italian and were looking forward to honing your skills, as Duolingo had proven only conceptually effective. But that’s what this entire experience was about! Dipping your toes into the adventure of travel and mystery. You had tried to research this area of town, but could only find the local cinema listings which seemed to feature at least one movie in English. Clutching your chatty stomach with annoyance you slipped into a silky blouse and comfortable jeans. Stop overthinking and head out the door! Grab your Alice in Wonderland sized key and start exploring, woman! Smiling to yourself with chagrin, you checked for your Euro, passport and key, took a deep breath and closed the front door behind you. Ciao Bella!

It had been several decades since you had been to Italy, but your memory did not disappoint. Floating down the cobblestone streets, you were once again thankful to be wearing sneakers as you gazed at the nonnas bringing in their dried laundry and shouting at one another across the way. You were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb as you used your cell phone as a divining rod to arrive at the local cinema art house, patting yourself on the back. Surprised to discover your very limited geographical intuitions had actually served you, as you noticed the only English Film available blazing against the darkening sky;

PADDINGTON 2.

Alright, it wasn’t “La Dolce Vita”, but you were determined to give your stale packet of peanuts a run for its money, if this Italian cinema had anything resembling the Western definition of a snack. As per usual, the Italians were eons ahead of the United States, offering a sampling of pasta, wine and confections, which you unabashedly stocked up on. You sheepishly entered the small movie house, balancing an array of popcorn, snacks and wine, the latter of which was offered from a soda-like dispenser. Your international travels were already getting off to a GREAT start. You gazed around the room appraisingly, surprised to discover that you had the movie house COMPLETELY to yourself. 

Bellisima.

Indulgently plopping down in the absolute center of the room, you nearly squealed like a little girl when the projector clicked to life and the room darkened in response. This was only partially stifled when another figure peripherally entered your vision and began ascending the stairs. You weren’t overly concerned. Having visited Italy nearly 20 years ago, you had received more than your fair share of attention, but now, at 45 you were fairly certain you could blend into the background. It wasn’t until the curious stranger sat in the seat next to you that you glanced sideways with slight annoyance. Your heart immediately dropped at the sight of the standard Italian god that greeted you; well coifed, colorful, a curly mop of hair gelled into submission and a potent, but not disagreeable cologne that mixed with the heady smell of buttered popcorn. You weren’t sure why he had selected the seat immediately next to yours, but were momentarily distracted by his matching box of indulgent snacks. His face broke into an immediate grin as a handful of popcorn fell into your lap with his jostling.

“Popcorn, principessa?” he muttered, jamming a handful into his own mouth and licking the butter from his fingertips playfully. In another lifetime, you might have been irritated, but there was something immediately disarming about this man’s demeanor. You stalled, at the realization that he might not be Italian after all. Thankful he couldn’t view your blushing cheeks, you sputtered, 

“Oh I’m all set!” before wondering if he spoke English, and then realizing he was in the same movie as you. “Uh…par…parlare inglese?” you bumbled, spilling some Golia licorice into his lap in turn and grabbing at them haphazardly before flushing a dark shade of pink. “Scusi…”.

“Si!” he blurted out before wiping his hand embarrassingly over his face with chagrin. “I mean, yes!” He awkwardly grabbed your hand, shaking it emphatically and spilling still more popcorn over the floor and both of you. You both laughed good-naturedly as the movie was preceded by several Italian commercials you didn’t understand.  Settling into the gravitas of the cinematic experience, you quietly chewed your snacks, attempting to be demurely polite, but quite frankly you were starving. You were also immediately charmed by your unexpected movie date, as he uproariously laughed at the smallest jokes, nodding in agreement at the the most poignant dialogue. The snacks eventually discarded in satiation, you hadn’t expected the well of emotion towards the end of the movie, but that was nothing compared to your seat-mate. He was sobbing vociferously, his body quaking with emotion, when you finally reached over to tentatively pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I…fucking…LOVE…this…movie…” he sniffled, between big gulps of air as you smiled knowingly to yourself. God, European men were so much more beautifully emotive than some of their Western counterparts. No wonder you had found yourself currently single in the States. You chanced a quick look at his left hand and found his wedding ring finger unoccupied, but internationally, did that even mean anything? Come on, woman, this isn’t “Only You”; get a grip. Just enjoy your new friendship and move on. You swiped at a few stray tears of your own before the lights gradually increased, leaving you both alone in the lightened movie house.

“Is that not the BEST movie you have ever seen? Without cinematic film star, Nicholas Cage, of course…” he oddly presumed, staring at you with saucer shaped eyes of warmth, a slight tinge of red dotting his cheeks at the corners.

“Uh…well, yes. Quite good, Much more emotional than I was anticipating” you admitted, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

“I feel the same way. It made me want to be a better man. I would even place it above towering films of cinematic greatness like “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”….or maybe even “National Treasure 2”” he observed dryly, taking in your inquisitive expression.

“National Treasure 2?” you repeated dumbly, blinking with curiosity at the tenure of your conversation. Who the hell was this guy?

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bore you with my encyclopedic knowledge of the greatest actor, and my personal friend, Nick Cage” he blushed shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You know Nick Cage?” you brightened, stumbling upon a fellow afficianado. You worked with artists all the time and loved discussing the creative process. That was the exact reason for your internship.

“Do you know him as well?” he turned his body to more fully face you, the fragrance of cologne intoxicating you slightly in response.

“Oh…certainly not. But I know OF him, he’s quite talented, and eccentric I believe…” you started before he launched into a cinematic info. dump.

“I find his artistic choices to be quite outlandish, but in a very stylized and curated execution…” as he began to wax theatrical for the next 20 minutes. You tried to remain focused on his discussion points, but you were equally distracted by his animated and appealing aesthetic, as much as the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t until you stifled a yawn and shivered slightly that he paused in his information monologue with a look of lamentation. “Oh, principessa, you are quite tired of my ramblings. Please, may I walk you home?”. He stood impressively above you, holding out his hand in inquiry.

You cleared your throat with some embarrassment, as the wine fueled evening crawled up the back of your neck with a seductive tickle. “Oh, certainly mister….?” you inquired, stumbling ever so slightly to your feet as he grabbed you protectively around the waist.

“Javi! You can call me Javi!” he intoned. You weren’t sure, but you thought he brushed a small, affectionate circle at your lower back, turning you towards the exit and guiding your steps. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was a good idea to lead this stranger right to your door step, but you were even less sure you could make it there on your own, the inefficient osmosis of popcorn and wine happily buzzing inside you. Jet lag didn’t help. But the streets of Italy were warm and inviting, as children continued to play late into the night, and old men sat smoking cigarettes and drinking grappa.

You wrapped your arm warmly around his as he gripped you solidly around the waist. The combination of wine, jet lag and cobblestone streets was proving a challenge, but your newfound friend didn’t seem inconvenienced. If anything, he kept chirping about his favorite movies and inquiring about your own theatrical tastes. It was like something out of a movie, and you decided to give in to the romantic idealism, however short lived it might be.

“This is me” you blinked lazily, arriving at your apartment and happy to return to your queen sized bed. And doubly grateful for your new and unexpected friendship. Javi.

Javi beamed, a dazzling smile dotting his face as you unlocked the door hesitantly. “What time can I call on you tomorrow?” his question immediately poked you in the stomach as you nearly tripped over your own doorway.

“Wh-what?” you sputtered, butterflies immediately erupting in your abdomen and cascading into your fluttering heart. He looked back at you curiously, as you swayed slightly in the night air. “Uh…noon please” you found yourself saying, equally delighted and confused at the surprising turn of events.

“Excellent, we can continue our cinematic discussion, and I will bring my screenplay for your perusal” he stated matter-a-factly before leaning in confidently and kissing you just to the side of your lips, which curled in delight. You blushed at the welcome bristle of his beard as it tickled your face, before he pulled back slightly and inhaled pointedly. “Buona notte, principessa” he whispered before purposefully turning and jaunting down the cobblestone street, his arms swinging happily from side to side, as he disappeared round the corner as quickly as he had entered your evening.

You stared after him, not entirely convinced he wasn’t some sort of cinematic illusion himself. It wasn’t until noon the next day, as you blearily considered the friendly knock at the door that the realization began to dawn on you. Squinting into the sunlight, you gulped dryly at his reappearance, two espressos in hand, as he stood once again, on your doorstep. He seemed to lustfully drink in your disheveled head of hair and naked legs which peeked from beneath the large white t-shirt you had haphazardly settled into before bed.

“Javi?” you rasped, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and smiling dopily. It seemed your cinematic dreams had temporarily come to life.

“Buongiorno, principessa!” Javi beamed, shoving the espresso emphatically into your hand and downing his own in one shot. “What movie are we seeing today?” he beamed, removing his glasses and smiling broadly.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship….

*Thanks @dornish-queen for the cool footage!

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