Marowaks and Plays

I'm going to post two things this evening. Well, three things, probably. I'll tack a bit of prose on the end of this to satisfy myself. But two things to be going with. It's been a few weeks since my last post, so a big post probably isn't a bad idea at this point.
Let's get started, shall we?
First off, one of my wives made an interesting post about Crobat. For those of you not in the loop (or future me, if by some horrid twist of fate I forget what a Crobat is when alcohol starts to rot my brain) a Crobat is a pokemon. The favourite pokemon of the aforementioned wife. And there were some very well-presented reasons for why Crobat was a favourite. That got me to thinking - there are so many pokemon, and they are so utterly varied - inevitably, the pokemon you choose as your favourite would shed some light on your personality, no? After all, Ben's favourite pokemon is Scyther. Enough said, in my opinion. Thought confirmed.
So, what's my favourite pokemon? Marowak. Let's get a picture.



That is a Marowak. Would you like to know why I love Marowak so much? Well, you're going to find out. First of all, the skull. When Marowak is a Cubone, Cubones wear their skull as a large, bulky item. The skull is the skull of their dead mother, I believe. They wear it and it is tragic, really, a mark of grief and childhood. Adorable, yes, but weak. But when a Cubone evolves into a Marowak, that skull is no longer bulky and external. It is moulded to fit the Marowak and is used for protection and cover. It's a metaphor for grief. At first you're pathetic and you wear it obviously - but over time it shapes itself to fit you, or you shape it to fit you, and you use it, draw upon it. Marowaks have forged strength from weakness. Second, the club. I can't remember the exact expression, but it goes something like "Give me a big enough lever and a place to stand and I will move the earth". Marowak has that lever. Marowak knows that there is a tool for every task, and it has chosen a task and chosen a tool. Marowak has nothing to fear as long as it has that club. There's a lot to be said for the sensibility of this. I can certainly appreciate it. Everything can be sorted if you approach it with the right tools. Third, Marowak is fucking badass. When it throws that club, the club always comes back. In the anime, Marowak meditate under waterfalls. They are fanatically loyal and almost savage in it to boot. They are agile, powerful and dangerous. And that is why I love Marowak.

That was a fun post to write! Let's talk about some real life stuff now.

My name is Jason. I am currently two days away from opening night of "The Witches" my first play with Monash University Student Theatre. I am feeling...grim. Determined, I suppose. In the past few months I have befriended a lot of people, a lot of people I'm reasonably shocked have taken a liking to me. I have met lovely ladies and beautiful men. I have glared at cunts, I have argued with my director, I have performed in the freezing cold and I have forsaken hedonism for bloody-minded survival. I'm fast concluding that hard work is more satisfying than sitting on my butt all day. I may even get a job. My mind changes constantly. I am in flux. It is satisfying.
I am still incapable of romantic feelings. The few people who have stirred something within me in that regard, I have driven off or converted into an affection receptacle (hi, Ollie, you're getting mentioned twice in one post, Sav will be most enraged). I am not creating enough and I am falling slightly behind in assessment.
I am reasonably certain that I want to spend the rest of my life in and around theatres (and in and around actors, hurr hurr sex joke). I feel...right, here. Melbourne is seeping into my bones. I am pleased with this.

Fuck, let's get some prose happening, yes? Two out of three, don't fail it now, Jason.

Where there's a will, is what they'll say.
And put me softly to my bed.
But I'm not sleeping anyway.
For there's a poison in my head.

You turned the lights up and I turned to ash,
The smell of sulpher bright and strong,
The pretty ornaments you smash,
The feel, the scent, I do belong.

And I'm not giving up,
Two in the bush, nothing in hand,
Fair-weather friends will drink from my cup,
But they don't dare understand.

There's no bed to rest this ache,
No respite, no remorse.
This is as much as I can take,
No mercy! No recourse!

Where there's a will, is what they'll say.
And make me take my medicine.
But that's a pill I threw away,
And I won't let them in.

Success.