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Homestuck Episode 1- TV scriptTEASER
INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - STUDY – EVENING
The study has a desk in one corner and a piano in the
other. A large safe is in the corner opposite the door.
There is a hat-stand next to the desk, and a tobacco pipe
on the desk. JOHN (13), a black-haired boy, sits at the
piano and adjusts his square-rimmed GLASSES. He begins to
play SHOWTIME (Piano Refrain).
My name is John Egbert. My
favorite movies are Ghostbusters
and Con Air; I like stage magic
and computer games. I want to
carry on my family’s legacy of
cunning practical jokes, but I’m
not too clever yet. Hopefully I’ll
get there someday.
Images of puffy white CLOUDS moving in a BLUE SKY are
overlaid with the shot of John and the piano. They seem
to be moving quickly, even though they cross the screen
It’s my thirteenth birthday
tomorrow, and just like on all
my other birthdays, it feels
like something is missing from
my life. The streets feel empty,
CascadeEdmond checked the street address with the GPS one more time– 3, rue Jean Jaurès, 93170 Bagnolet– and got out of the car. Carefully, and with practiced ease, he walked through the door, tipped his hat to the receptionist, and walked up to the third floor. He walked down the hallway until he saw the number he was looking for on his right. Three brief raps on the door, followed by a sharp “Police, open up!”
A few seconds later, the door opened to a girl grinning warmly, twenty like he was, with a loosely kempt bob-cut framing her rounded face. She smirked, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
“Bonsoir, Edmond. And look at you! You’re not even in uniform. Ca va?” she asked before bouncing back inside, leaving the door open behind her. He followed her in, silently taking note of the new locations of old items.
“Ca va. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Pénélope. I like the new room. More space
StagnationMy mind has been molasses as of late;
concepts to which I sped like mercury
escape my understanding, so I wait
and in the meantime sleep quite steadily.
Concepts to which I sped like mercury
move at their normal speeds as I delay
and, in the meantime, sleep quite steadily;
I am no more quicksilver in my way.
Move at your normal speed as I delay;
escape my understanding as I wait.
I am no more quicksilver in my way;
my mind has been molasses as of late.
Three trees: translationThree trees
by Gabriela Mistral, translation by Ryan Yates
Three felled trees
lay still by the wayside of the trail.
The woodsman had forgotten them, and they commune,
entangled with love, like three blind men.
The setting sun pours
its lifeblood into the wounded logs
–and the winds, they carry the fragrance
of its opened side!
One, twisted, extends
its immense arm of trembling foliage
toward another, and its wounds
like wide eyes cry, brimming with anguish.
The woodsman had forgotten them. The night
still comes. I will be with them.
I will receive in my heart their dying
resins. They will ignite me as would fire.
–And muted and blinded,
the sunrise will find us in a mound of pain!
por Gabriela Mistral
Tres árboles caídos
quedaron a la orilla del sendero.
El leñador los olvidó, y conversan,
apretados de amor, como tres ciegos.
El sol de ocaso pone
su sangre viva en los hendidos leños
¡y se llevan los
AboveThe words with which you once disparaged me
were swords which sliced at my soles
They made every step feel like falling
But now your weapons are grass in November
their glittering blades
like clouds beneath my feet
Every step feels like flying
TempleDaily we crack
our joints free of rust
built up from yesterday’s wear—
this daydream wears me
down to bone, when
I’ve no shelter
myself a tower
out of royal blue and silver, spun
and soldered at the seams
with the mists of dreams
flowing freely where they’re woven
like the waters from the
stream of my
Pompton LakesHow am I to know if I am sick?
My heart beats quickly
at the thought
of how they strictly
said we ought not
to swim in lakes or rivers when I was five.
A comedy of errors, so to speak; rather,
a leak in the disposal
of a sediment they owned
The traces in the rocks
we somewhat mocked.
When we took stock and told the story,
we chalked it up to silly worry—
Now that we know the score,
my hometown sued for reparations
for the traces in foundations
and the cleanup’s still not done.
the river from our park
and the lake from common use.
no lives– thank higher powers– but that’s still not an excuse.
I’m not sick.
But to be strict, I’m lucky I’m alive.
And when I was five?
How was I to know?
our highwaysthat day we walked along the freeway
cars rushed past
and blew your hair in circles
cars rushed past in mile-long arteries
blew our minds in circles
and we both were blushing
minds rushing in circles
we had trouble breathing
as we tried to talk
we were out of breath
yelling as we talked
over the rush of blood
yelling to each other
over the wind in our ears
but we couldn’t hear,
the noise in our ears was
louder than our voices
so we leaned in closer
louder than our voices
as we leaned in closer
rubbed our cheeks together
as we leaned in closer
rubbed our cheeks together
neared the intersection
and a moment just after
the lights turned red when
Finding the Safe RoomMerritt made her way through the tunnels, slinking along as quickly and quietly as she could. She couldn't wait to get back into any open space, whether it was a sewer room or the safe room. She was trying to distract herself from how close the walls were around her by keeping her thoughts elsewhere- she closed her eyes and listened carefully to all the sounds around her, and realized her steps were louder than she thought. She slowed down a bit and tried to quiet her footsteps.
Fahne likewise was quickly moving through the tunnels, but unlike Merritt he wasn't very concerned about how close the walls were. Neither was he trying to keep quiet: the small black fox was highly entertained with the multiple puddles along the way, and giggled as his paws made small splashes. Though Ainu had explained to him where the safe room was, Fahne hadn't been there yet, and didn't seem to find it all too important at the moment. He was content exploring his new home.
Had Merritt not slowed down, she
CensorshipYou came from far away
Came from outside
Came from the air
But you've always been welcome to enter and share
But you can really even comprehend?
How things fit together
And run over here?
You came from far away
Came from outside
Came from the sea
But you still can not see
We never gave you
To come flying
And change everything we believe
Turning around the taboo
Put strips in everything you say is shame
Threw mist in our values
Judged and criticized
until the end
Made a world in your own image
Tumbled to the correct
Full of mirages
What we never accept
My Autism is NOT a PrisonIf you saw what we’re capable of
You would not want to cure us.
Yet you belittle it as a curse
And try and shove it away.
Do you just not to deal with it?
Because you want your “dream child”?
I’m sorry, no one’s perfect.
(And the only thing that can imprison us is you.)
So why do you make us feel worthless
When really, we have a gift?
The GlyphsThe Glyphs
Strange glyphs upon a stone wall
The readers are confused
A time beyond our reckoning
"We were not created then."
"Indeed not. This is too old,
Too long ago."
"What of those figures?"
The figures told of creatures before our time
As old as the earth itself
Names strange and unearthly
At last, they turned to go
sometimes [11/30]the stars won't align for us,
love, not now
fate isn't meant to be
that's the most beautiful thing about it.
The HeirophantHigh on your lust for power
Faithful to only greed
You stand erect and proud
Feeding off of the followers
Of your vindictive god
You are the god
Or so you think
Control the masses with morality
Corrupt their minds with bigotry
Bind them in your so-called truth
"My sermons move the masses," you say
You bring security to their ignorant minds
With your promises of an eternity in the Kingdom of Heaven
That is sure to follow this hellish life
But there are a select few
They see through you
Straight into your miser soul
Beyond your false promises
Into the darkness you actually spread
These few unravel the tapestry of who you are
Tearing your knots free
Revealing the insecurities and hypocrisies that lie beneath
Dissecting your vile plans
Usurp your power over the world
How long can you lead with your self-righteous organized religion
How long can you hide in your enlightenment
When there are those
Who don't see your light
Only your nightmare
So dress in your satin wh
of blisters and broken bandages [12/30]he never broke my heart.
he only taught me what it feels like
to love and,
as a result of that,
techno beatsLet's party all night long to the techno beats
So fresh so sweet party to the techno remix
Club lights dance all night I don't care about the time.
12:00 all the way to 1:00
City spot down some shots.
Let us party all night long
Let's dance to the techno beats all night long.
Friday night let's dance the night away.
Fresh new to the beat let's dance the night away.
Hell yes l want to party all night long.
Lol OMG such fun.
Party all night long.
Let me take a beer.
Damm son are you drunk?
Pass out 1:00 oh my God.
Lol what happened?
So high to the sky can't see straight.
Oh time to go...... *thud* snooooooore*
X's and Y'scomes down to the forty-sixth
I've got oaken leaves on the ashen strips
and they can't tell by looking in my eyes
there's nothing wrong with a simple life
based on anything else in the first forty five
but that's not what they want to hear me say
we could chat here for hours
about Halo or flowers
and there's no shame in liking them both
but at some point you'd ask me
to answer the question
so you could tell me which was wrong
I retreat to a world
made of crystal and pearl
with the beautiful boys
and the beautiful girls
so that I can be friends
with whoever I want
make a life for myself
based on what's in my thoughts
and can cry
at the near-perfect world
where the people are nice
and the morals are closer
to black and to white
it's a mess– pretty, though
and nature and harmony are king
but on earth I'm content
to hold ashes of oak
and of juniper
and hope that no one will ask
and hope that in October
the sixth, the forty-sixth
won't become a crude joke
about X's and Y's
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