"Aderyn. Wake up, Aderyn."

He climbs out of bed, rubbing his eyes and wiping his hand on his tunic. His curtain flaps gently in the night wind. He folds it over his head, peaking out. In the night sky, hundreds of moons freckle the night, all of them different colors. Red, blue, green... they stand there, hovering over the hills he's seen so many times. They distort his home. They make it foreign to him. He looks up. Fayber is there.

"What is this?" Aderyn asks. He looks up at Fayber. His face is empty. His eyes are wide and unblinking as he gazes out onto the strange scene.

"Does it really matter?" the old farmer replies.

Aderyn is the farm boy's name. The Machinist is Idaris, the boy's friend is Drystan, and Drystan's father is Fayber.

There'll be times when we worry each other to death for no good reason. It's okay. It shows how much we love each other, I guess.

...although I believe God and the entire fucking Holy Kingdom are aware of how much I love you. It's all I ever think about. I imagine putting my thoughts in a bottle and corking the top, and tying a little balloon to it and launching it out my window. I think of it rising, to a higher plane of pastel yellows and oranges... your city in the clouds. A blushing cherub intercepts it, reads it, and gives a cute little smile in spite of herself.

But really, the Republic of Heaven... it's right above our heads, isn't it? We'll reach it some day. If anyone can, it's you and me.

You know I've never used your name here before?

I fucking love you, Midori Wada.

I think I've forgotten how to tell if somebody likes you. Or how to recognize if they're flirting or just being friendly?

...i still have my apprehensions. A (somewhat large) part of me thinks I shouldn't do this... I know you told me nothing will change, but my instinct...

When I was younger, I'd hide in the space under the sink in my mom's room. I pretended I was in magical places. I still go there in my head every so often: that's where I invent Armour, and it's where all the beautiful things happen. When I talk to you, though, it's as if something from one of those worlds were plucked out and made real as flesh and tears.

Remind me next time you're over and I'll show you the space underneath the sink.

If Armour had a princess, it would be you.

For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

Let's show the world how it's done. We're gonna last, and for real this time. I love every single fucking thing about you.

(PS, I can't find a way to tell him about us, even though I know I have to. I'm just so afraid... I know it's going to spread.I don't want to deal with it if people find out. I know he won't say "why didn't you tell me?" but others will. Serena especially. She'll be pissed. She'll keep asking me for reasons why, and nothing will satisfy her.)

We should visit Germany someday.

In history class Mr. Zwemer was talking about Japan's expansion during WWII. I thought it was exciting, brutal as it was: I think it'd be cool for a country to just take over half the world, only for it to be defeated again. I don't know. a bit of international excitement.

I found myself watching the clouds
passing and rolling today and
I imagined your head on my chest
as you pointed and named the formless
things, and you would laugh
and kiss my cheek as if
this is what we were made for.

I realized: I remember everything between you and I when you visited, but only as I experienced it. I want to know how you experienced it.

When you get home, write me an email. Pick some moments, tell me what they felt like for you, in detail. How did it feels when I kissed your stomach? When I bit your neck? When I rubbed the spot on your chest? When I grabbed your ass? When I touched you down there...? I want to know how it was on your side. I'm curious.

Tell me if you want me to do the same! And if so, what moments? I love you!

There are stories that children learn from their parents.They're folk tales, although they border on almost religious superstitions. There are a few very interesting stories. The farm boy often hears these stories from his friend's father as he lies i his hammock with his straw hat cocked over his head, his eyes closed, chewing on a piece of straw. The boy listens intently. Sometimes, while the lazy farmer talks, the boy closes his eyes and lets himself imagine these stories. The boy wishes this was his father talking to him, and not the stern, distant man he knew...

The Watching-Thing
The watching-thing is an eyeball, sprouting out of your back, in between the shoulder blades. It comes out and looks over your shoulder your entire life, watching. Right before you die, it whispers a single phrase into your ear. If you have lead the life of a hero, a virtuous human, it blossoms into a violet rose and lands on your chest.

Here's the reason, I think:

I feel like my friends are drifting away from me and it's my fault. I feel like I used to be really well respected, and I'm not anymore. I feel like people don't take me as seriously as they used to take me, and I'm not as nice a guy as I used to be. I think I'm giving up a lot of that just to come home and talk to you at night. I don't want to make it out like it's your fault, becuase it isn't, it's mine. I should be balancing my life more. You are, and I'm not. And when I called you and yo sounded happy, even away from me, I got that you were balancing your life and I wasn't, and every so often something sets me off that lets me know subconciously that the real world around me is falling apart, and that's my deepest fear.

It isn't your fault, it's mine, I promise. Don't feel guilty, it'll only make me feel worse. I love you so much.

I remember everything about the day you left. I remember we sat on my table and you took your glasses off and I kissed your face all over.

I don't ever want you to leave again.

The farm boy and his mother don't speak the same language but when they meet they can understand each other anyway.

And she disappears into thin air never to be seen again.

Two posts in a day!

“He just let you go?” He nodded. He swallowed, his large eyes staring off lazily in front of him. He put his left thumb under his chin and hooked his index finger around over his mouth, and nodded again, just slightly. Tentatively, I asked, “What did he look like?”

“He looked like your uncle Doyle, but with darker, matted hair and with stubble all over. He was rather short, and his stature was fairly large. He could have been my brother, for his complexion, his build, his face. He was not monstrous in an outward way. But when I looked into his eyes I knew immediately that this beast had no soul. It was sucked from him, and it has been long gone. His body is a machine now, and the orders come from the crude, cold brain of a man directly to his limbs.” He paused for a second. “There was no soul left in that man, I am sure of it.” Another pause. “And so he looked at me, and he looked into my eyes, and God knows what he saw. And we traded then, what we were, and a judgment was passed between him, so he released me and we both turned away.”

At this, he looked down and scratched the back of his neck. My grandfather looked back up, both hands covering his mouth. He removed them to speak: “I sometimes wonder what ever became of that man.”

The Japanese is coming well; I'm starting to really appreciate kanji, and I'm slowly learning hiragana. I'll be good at that before you even know it. Katakana is still a mystery to me, but I'll get there. Words are starting to take their place, and although Rosetta has taught me very little conversational vocabulary, I'll leave that to you to fill in later. I'm enjoying myself for sure (although I've noticed that there are like, 800000 different ways to express plurality or singularity.)

Here's an article from the H-W Paper that I ripped out for you: (typos galore, ignore them)

Josh Oreman '09 fiddles with a pen in his fingers, glancing at his digital watch every so often. Shaking his auburn hair and squinting to block the sun, he disagrees adamantly with the misconception that he is all about math and science, instead describing himself as "complex." It was in fourth grade when Oreman realized taht he was too advanced for his elementry school, Chandler, and began taking online courses, allowing him to get through Precalculs but the seventh grade.
He would watch lectures, do homework, take tests and mail them in, enjoying hte self-paced online classes. He continued taking the online courses through ninth grade, though he prefers the experience of a real class, "provided that the teacher is competent and engaging."
"moving at such a fast pace, the material does lose some of the fun of the applications," he added, now pacing back and forth, again checking his watch.
He sips his soda between sentences, renewing the sentiment that he is just like anyone else who develops alternative software for the iPod Linux program, plans on taking 10 to 11 AP courses and is the only sophmore this year to take Advanced Seminar.
While most other students are running around the track or tossing aorund a ball, Oreman practices Jujitsu because "it has a more intrinsic point compared to toher sports because there are so many levels. It's not just a mindless sport. Needless to say, it does wonders for yours elf-confdience."
When asked about his work on alternative software for the iPod, Oreman launches into an explination rife with technical terms and details. Mostly volunteering and working on the weekends since 2005, Oreman found this latest project perusing the Internet.
"I always worried about the other programmers knowing that I was a teen, but it actually didn't matter much since most of our work is conducted over the internet," he said.
In addition to his programming persuit, Oreman particularly enjoys science, intent on taking both PHysics C courses in his junior year and AP chemistry as a senior. As an only child, Oreman laughs describing how different he is from his parents: his mother works for KIIS-FM and his father is a wine broker.
"When my parents ask me how school was, I start telling them about what I learned and they just don't really understand most of the stuff I get into."
Entering Harvard-Westlake in 9th grade, Oreman's motehr was worried because of the schools "rich snob reputation." However, Oreman remarks at how surprised he was about how accepting everyone was: "It's just great to be at a school where the kids appreciate the fact that I can do somarth stuff," he said. "I don't really think I'm seen as esoteric or 'scary smart' because I don't really think I am."
Although he plans on attending a technical university like Cal Tech or MIT and persuing a career in computer science, Oreman confesses that "not everything can be described through logic and cold hard facts. A mathematician can't tell you everything."
With that, Oreman casually walks out of his AP comptuer science class, finishing his test in about 20 minutes.

To catch you up: I failed a math quiz today and I thought I did really well, and I was just feeling so crappy and frustrated that I faked sick to get out of school internship (didn't have any real classes left) and went home. My dad's getting a (different) tutor to come on Thursday, and I just hope it helps. Because the other tutor sure hasn't been. I was pretty upset about it. I studied hard but it doesn't pay off it seems. I don't get it. I get that I'm not stupid, and I get that I can do it and I can turn it around. But obviously I have no idea how to succeed in what's an easy course for people who get far worse grades than I do on average.

Anyway. I got a lot more work today and I'll probably go to sleep on time, so at least that's good. But I miss you, Midori. I hope you're having fun there. We'll talk soon.

You've had a strange manner about you lately.

Please tell me what's really going on. You can't fool me... please let me in. Even if it's about me.

Long Red String

The places where the chords go is fucked: ignore it.

(flute)

D C G G
It seems there is a long red- string
D C G G
With a tincan tied to either- end
D C G G
It unravels across the lakes and- plains
D C G G
And bi-nds you dire-ctly to- me

(bass comes in)
G/D D C G

D C G G
And when you yell into your- side
D C G G
You place it gently on your- ear
D C G G
And as you wait for it to reso-nate
D C G G
You note the latency on the other- side.

(drums, saxophone)
G D C C

(CHORUS)
G D C C
So find me here, find me here.

G D C C
Find me here, find me- here.

G D C C
I've been waiting so- long, and I'm

G D C C
ready to go-.

G D C C

(sax solo)


(softer) D C G G
D C G G
This sordid tale has come to an- end
D C G G
A new decree has brought a lasting- peace.
D C G G
So throw out your guns and lay your defense- down.
D C G G
Cuz I'm not going any-where.


(chorus)


G D C C
G D C C
G D C C (let fade)

Government (more specifics)
The government is actually not as laid back as you'd think (at least, not in all regards.) In fact, it has a fondness of keeping tabs on private activity. There is a constant sense of paranoia regarding secret brotherhood uprisings, and the public is made to believe that these brotherhoods are bloodthirsty, savage brutes (which is, in fact, not a completely inaccurate generalization.) Also, in Armour, the government may decide someone is obligated to attend an academy. They may do this for many reasons: the adolescent may have demonstrated potential, or there may be a general economic need for educated people.

Interpersonal and familial relations are strictly monitored among the important persons. This prevents governmental setbacks or economic blunders: the government likes to keep track of its money, essentially.

The method of control is very friendly. Investigators are trained to be as personable as possible, and the government is not feared or hated by anyone. The idea is not to be the feared leaders as one would think. It really is "for the good of the people." Councilmen are elected officials, after all, and if the government is not enacting the people's will, the people will certainly change their councilmen quickly.

Liberty or representation of the people is not a virtue in Armour. The people mostly want protection more than they want liberty, and most citizens wouldn't trust their fellow people to run the country. They'd much rather "leave it to the professionals," and this is the kind of attitude that encourages this almost Totalitarian system.

My life is so perfect, except for that you're 3,000 miles away. I mean that. You let me move on.

Education
Education in Armour for the peasantry is basically nonexistent. A peasant would be lucky to be able to read, and very few can write. The only people who can read or write are the people who receive top notch educations. These people go to academies outside Armour. Mostly, people learn their craft from their parents, and it is thus passed down.

People who do go to academies must meet rigorous testing. Children start academies from the age of 12-13 and learn all areas of schooling. Mostly these people take respected positions. Learning at the academy isn't free, although the price is not high. The professors who live at academies are not payed, and simply live their lives there, studying & conducting research.

Slavery
Tribal people love slavery, and Armour supplies them with a good population of slaves through the criminal justice system. Slaves are revered and respected, and given good homes and jobs. Manual labor is respected by most tribes. Slaves are given decent housing conditions and good food. However, they are owned property, and may be bartered. Slaves may be whipped or beaten, but it is unholy to kill a slave; it is punishable as theft

Ever get the feeling like the night has overstayed its welcome?

The longer I talk to you the more bitter it is to leave.

please resist our sordid propositions; everyone reminisces (ostensibly):

"But this rough magic I here abjure."

(maybe someday I will understand what it is to wish to break your staff. but i am young and stupid, and i want to explore this further)

-----------

perhaps i'm going crazy, but i see more and more of it in our everday lives. weaving its way in. I feel bad for all those poor wiccans who try memorizing the incantations to no avail, when it just oozes out of us with no control or effort. but, we're the blindfolded kids with the bat, swinging the bat randomly hoping for candy to fall out eventually. i propose an expedition deep inside ourselves.

next time i see you, we'll experiment. put it on your list.

Love.