Uho. Will has to go.
He doesn't have any notes on him. Doesn't have anything that is readily prepared and though he's done his homework he's having the moment that every orator has when they get in front of the podium and suddenly suspect that their speech wasn't good enough, that it isn't going to land, that you're going to get booed off stage and never asked to come back. There is that fear that you might not be good enough, that your pursuits and perceptions weren't good enough to make anything count. The fear that in the one area he believes himself competent that he knew nothing.
"We totally should have talked to the tree before you came back, but that tree probably doesn't want upstarts bothering them- especially since those upstarts are strangers. Especially if those strangers are asking about the primary resident of the house," he half laments, "I don't think we could have had anything to offer anyway, seems like the type who you do favors for, not the other way around. Can't make a deal if you don't have any ground to stand on."
"You walk onto the premises and there is life and there is order. Everything is neat, but not <i>tidy</i>. Despite the plots being a little overgrown, needing some care, having some vines that need some work- the tree? Is thriving. They're probably one hundred years old, or older than that. This tree looks like they've been here longer than most houses, and instead of the tree bowing to the landscaping, the landscaping bows to the tree."
Exhales, hard and long like he's trying to get his thoughts back together and that ping pong ball attention span continues to bounce until he reins it back in with the kind of muscle that William very rarely has available to him, "have you ever been to New Orleans? I mean, this kind of only applies if you've been there, or at least are familiar with the landscape... Before Katrina, it was a place that was loud and alive. You could feel it, you could tell that there was history and presence. There were layers. Then the hurricane went through, flooded everything uprooted the dead, destroyed the cities, made the entirety of it all a screaming mass? Years later, the city and the government cleaned up what they could and people are living but you can still feel the disaster. It's been a decade and you can still feel it. It's like the other side is the world's true self."
A beat. A second.
"... I think I answered the question."
He hopes he answered the question. On to the second one.
"Second question: if you go up in this theoretical model you reach the high umbra- which is either the high umbra or the astral plane. You find the abstractions and what some consider to be high umbrood... but you could also argue that, really, when you go up you just go up. I would think that there is up and there is in and in would be a lot more interesting."
"Third question: a Summerland special is where you take one part ideal natural realm, mix with three ounces of water untouched by man, two flowers that no longer exist on this plane of existence, and four ounces of hibiscus vodka. Shake. Serve in a rocks glass over ice.
"An alternate version exists for people who go wiccanate neopagam afterlife, where you take three cubes of diced melons, four fresh basil leaves, some apricot juice, peach liqueur, and vodka. Crush the melon and the basil with a shaker, add the liquids, shake and strain twice. Put it over ice and serve. Best served cold."
He doesn't have any notes on him. Doesn't have anything that is readily prepared and though he's done his homework he's having the moment that every orator has when they get in front of the podium and suddenly suspect that their speech wasn't good enough, that it isn't going to land, that you're going to get booed off stage and never asked to come back. There is that fear that you might not be good enough, that your pursuits and perceptions weren't good enough to make anything count. The fear that in the one area he believes himself competent that he knew nothing.
"We totally should have talked to the tree before you came back, but that tree probably doesn't want upstarts bothering them- especially since those upstarts are strangers. Especially if those strangers are asking about the primary resident of the house," he half laments, "I don't think we could have had anything to offer anyway, seems like the type who you do favors for, not the other way around. Can't make a deal if you don't have any ground to stand on."
"You walk onto the premises and there is life and there is order. Everything is neat, but not <i>tidy</i>. Despite the plots being a little overgrown, needing some care, having some vines that need some work- the tree? Is thriving. They're probably one hundred years old, or older than that. This tree looks like they've been here longer than most houses, and instead of the tree bowing to the landscaping, the landscaping bows to the tree."
Exhales, hard and long like he's trying to get his thoughts back together and that ping pong ball attention span continues to bounce until he reins it back in with the kind of muscle that William very rarely has available to him, "have you ever been to New Orleans? I mean, this kind of only applies if you've been there, or at least are familiar with the landscape... Before Katrina, it was a place that was loud and alive. You could feel it, you could tell that there was history and presence. There were layers. Then the hurricane went through, flooded everything uprooted the dead, destroyed the cities, made the entirety of it all a screaming mass? Years later, the city and the government cleaned up what they could and people are living but you can still feel the disaster. It's been a decade and you can still feel it. It's like the other side is the world's true self."
A beat. A second.
"... I think I answered the question."
He hopes he answered the question. On to the second one.
"Second question: if you go up in this theoretical model you reach the high umbra- which is either the high umbra or the astral plane. You find the abstractions and what some consider to be high umbrood... but you could also argue that, really, when you go up you just go up. I would think that there is up and there is in and in would be a lot more interesting."
"Third question: a Summerland special is where you take one part ideal natural realm, mix with three ounces of water untouched by man, two flowers that no longer exist on this plane of existence, and four ounces of hibiscus vodka. Shake. Serve in a rocks glass over ice.
"An alternate version exists for people who go wiccanate neopagam afterlife, where you take three cubes of diced melons, four fresh basil leaves, some apricot juice, peach liqueur, and vodka. Crush the melon and the basil with a shaker, add the liquids, shake and strain twice. Put it over ice and serve. Best served cold."