i just wanted a page for twin peaks

[back to start][Vibez]

I'll fill this out later idk!!!

[back][Vibez]

• Lemony Snicket is gonna be a touchstone here, for pairing if-anything-TOO-sophisticated wit with a very accessible, parsable flow.
• Handler's Adverbs, meanwhile, is pretty much my ne plus ultra for what style can be.
• Charles Portis and the "Army Man" zine both speak to how colorful prose can get.
• Achewood's handling of dialogue feels as precise as Pogo's lettering of dialogue.
• Calvin and Hobbes taught me just how much can be said with very little.

• Diana Wynne Jones and Philip K.

Some music is good live. Some isn't. Some musicians were made for the recording booth, to have a protective layer between the audience and whatever they create.

Some music is meant to be heard live. The Oh Hellos are meant to be heard live.

What is more hope, than making music to be heard live, during a time when live music seems so distant that it feels ancestral? Like a myth? 

What do you care about? What do you stand for? 

Do you let the fear own you? Or do you trust the unknown? Can your friends do things so evil that you cannot forgive them? 

Are you sure? 

Put away video game morality for a second. Pretend that this industry did not cut its teeth on asking you questions that really dig deep, questions like "Do you want to save a puppy or set an orphanage on fire?" Pretend your choices are saving murderers, or saving murderers. Pretend your choices are mostly futile. 

Pretend you need to make them anyway. 

Dragon Age 2 is a game about hope. It is a game about despair.

But, mostly, it is a game about hope. 

The very beginning of the tutorial has you in your fanciest armor, and your sibling beside you in the armor of a Grey Warden. You are packed to the gills with high level spells. Enemies melt beneath you. In this moment, you aren't worried about your mother, or your other sibling, or Aveline's husband. You don't even know these people. You're just a hero. 

You are never safe at home in Kirkwall. You are safe in your house, for the most part, but the city is a dangerous place. Especially at night. Death is common in the streets, and while any B-list pickpocket or assassin who tries to take you out is in for a bad time

It is inevitable: I begin to live with the terror. I begin to live with the fear. 

Different things. 

The terror is brief, sudden, transient. It wakes me up from nightmares, it makes my heart race and makes me run and hide when I'm in my office and I hear familiar footsteps. It is a finite resource. It exhausts itself. 

The fear is the hard part. The fear goes on forever. When I wake up in the middle of the night, it is the fear that keeps me awake, staring into the darkness, listening to the blood in my ears, seeing ghosts in the shadows.