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FLAMR
FLAMR TAKASUGI SHINSUKEI'm not here for dating; I just want a good a spar. Who among you can fight? Alternatively, if you have a hard copy of a good book you can lend me, swipe right.Ambitious and competitive teen enjoys long discussions on poetry and philosophy, drinking liquor, and smoking opium; craves both understanding and entertainment; has anger issues and a sadistic streak. Single white male devout watcher of hentai, dedicated player of L**gue of L*g*nds, and self-proclaimed 'Brony'; wears a fedora and is shocked by claims of chivalry being outdated. |
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poetry and opium? but you're too cute to pass for a post-mortem samuel coleridge
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[well this has nothing to do with a fight but it might be about a book -- how does he know he likes poetry and opium...]
You again.
Who's Samuel Coleridge?
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he was a poet who really liked opium
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I would never have guessed that in the entirety of my afterlife, really. What did the content of his poems cover?
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he wrote some long narrative poems. the one about kublai khan and xanadu and shit was inspired by an opium dream and my comment would've been WAY MORE IMPRESSIVE if i didn't have to explain it to you
[ Hey, look, high school English classes are coming in handy. ]
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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
3/3 I LIED HE IS A SPAMMER
1/2 an adorable spammer
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[it takes him a few long moments to reply]
Yeah. It made me miss home.
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yeah? must've been an interesting place
[ For his part, Chase rarely misses home, and when he does, it's pretty much just his fully functioning Power, and the convenience of air conditioning, that really tugs at him. ]
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Dying for me was like giving up one war for another, but it was the devil I knew. This is your favorite author, then? Or simply one you know?
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[ Like Chase is one to talk. ]
just one i know. had to read some of his stuff in school. i liked it, though
[ He's a bigger nerd than he likes to let on, really. ]
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You'll have to answer the implied question now. Don't you know how conversation works?
[is he teasing him or just being an asshole. hard to tell.]
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anyway my favorite author is probably kurt vonnegut. you've probably never heard of him
[ Although he means that last sentence in a joke, that may be hard to pull off with text. He debates adding a ;) for good measure. ]
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You're right, I haven't. You have something of his?
[TAKES IT AT TOTAL FACE VALUE, but wonders why he made the words slanty...]
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not here. guess i could pay a smuggler to get some for me
[ IN THE MEANTIME: ]
so who's your favorite?
[ He could try to guess, but Takasugi's OLD TIMEY so who would Chase even know that seems likely? Shakespeare? ]
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Mizuta Masahide or Wen Tiangxiang. You've probably never heard of them either. [although Masahide is hells of famous so MAYBE]
[Romeo and Juliet is perfect and died together, it's so romantic!! no he actually has very little Western exposure]
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sure. maybe i can get my hands on slaughterhouse-five. that's the one people usually start with
[ ALAS, Chase's education was overwhelmingly Western-centric, so he probably only knows, like, Murakami, AND NOBODY ELSE. ]
i haven't. guess my fancy private school was lacking in some departments
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As was mine. That was why I... "transferred", so to speak. I have Wen Tiangxiang's Song OF The Righteous Spirit memorized. Would you like to read it?
[i'm not typing that out for you if you're not interested]
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yeah? lay it on me
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Oh...
:(
[yeah he wrote that just for you]
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Yes. I wanted to show my empathy for you.
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NEXT you'll be trying out emojis 🐙🐙🐙
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...but you're right; I wouldn't trust any here either.
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close: fried squid. sometimes they look like little baby squids and it makes eating them even better
but hey if you REALLY want to get hungry... 🍆 🍕 🍣 🍣 🍣
[ Look. Emojji weren't a thing in 2006. He's kind of really into them now. ]
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[HE WANTS THEM SO MUCH]
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i AM in hell for a reason
[ Of course, that reason's more "murder" and less "spamming with emojis." ]
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Not exactly what I had in mind...
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So? Let's have it.
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Preface:
I am held captive by the North, and sit now in an earthen room. The room is eight feet wide and twelve yards deep, its single door is low and small, its windows short and tight. It is dirty and dark. On a summer day like today, various vapors gather here. When the rains come in on all four sides, causing my bed and table to begin to float, this is the energy of water. When the muddy dirt dries halfway and steam bubbles ripple through it, this is the energy of earth. When the skies are clear and oppressively hot and the wind is blocked on all four sides, this is the energy of the sun. When cooking fires are lit under the shade of eaves, making the long heat even more brutal, this is the energy of fire. When the grain in the storage begins to decay, releasing an oppressive mustiness, this is the energy of rice. And when one is shoulder to shoulder with all sorts, rank, dirty, and oily, this is the energy of man. When the stench of privies, rotten corpses, and decaying rats emerge, this is the energy of fetor. These various malign energies overlap one on top of the other, and few are the men exposed to them who can remain unharmed. Moreover, my constitution is weak, yet I have lived amid them going on two years now, and thankfully have emerged unscathed. This is probably because I have something I have cultivated within me that makes it so. But how do I know what I am cultivating in myself? Mencius said, "I am good at cultivating my flood-like qi." There are seven energies, and I have just one. One has held off seven. So why should I worry?! Especially since what I mean by "flood-like" is the "Righteous Spirit" of Heaven and Earth. I hereby compose "The Song of The Righteous Spirit".
The Song of The Righteous Spirit:
Pervading Heaven And Earth is a righteous spirit --
Mixed and manifold, it assumes various forms.
Below, it makes rivers and mountains;
Above, it makes the sun and stars.
In the world of man, it is what Mencius called "flood-like,"
Surging forth to fill all that lies beneath the blue sky.
When the Great Way is tranquil and peaceful,
It inspires the bright court with harmony.
When events reach and impasse, integrity is tested;
Each instance is recorded down in the annals of history.
In Qi, it was the Grand Historian's bamboo slips [that told of Cui Zhu's assassination of Duke Zhuang];
In Jin, it was the brush of Dong Hu [that attributed blame to Zhao Dun for Duke Ling's murder].
In Qin, it was the hammer of Zhang Liang [with which he attacks Qin Shihuang's carriage];
In Han, it was the staff of Su Wu [that he carried as envoy].
It was general Yan's head [that refused to bow in submission],
It was Palace Attendent Ji Shao's blood [that he spilled defending the Emperor].
It was the teeth of Zhang Xun at Suiyang [that he ground down while defending the city];
It was the tongue of Yan Gaoqing at Changshan [that was cut out when he insulted An Lushan].
Or, it appeared as the cap in Liaodong [that Guan Ning wore in his reclusion],
Whose purity was more intense than ice and snow.
Or, it appeared as the "Memorial to Dispatch The Troops" [by Zhuge Liang],
Which made even ghosts and spirits cry solemnly.
Or, at appeared as the oar that crossed the river [which Zu Ti beat, vowing to reclaim the north];
With righteous determination to vanquish the barbarians.
Or, it appeared as the tablet that struck the bandit [Zhu Ci];
Whose traitorous head was split open.
Each and every place that this spirit springs forth,
Has stolid dignity that shall last for eternity.
When it suffuses the sun and moon,
How can life and death merit disucssion?
The Terrestrial Perimeters depend upon it to stand;
The Pillar of Heaven relies upon it to rise tall.
The fate of the Three Bonds is tied to it;
For Righteousness and the Way are its roots.
Alas! I have met with an ill-fated year;
And am now one held captive, truly powerless.
Like the Chu prisoner who fastened his cap strings,
I was brought by carriage to the remote north.
To be boiled in the cauldron would be sweeter than candy;
I begged for this, but could not obtain it.
My gloomy cell fills with ghostly will-o'-the-wisp;
The spring courtyard is plunged into darkness.
The ox and the steed share the same trough;
A phoenix is made to eat among chickens.
One day I shall be overcome by the damp, I thought,
My fate to be an emaciated corpse in some gully.
Two winters and springs have passed like this,
And a hundred malignancies have kept their distance.
Oh this damp and soggy place,
Has now become my paradise!
Surely it is not because of some clever trick
That I am immune to the harm of the elements.
I know it is the radiance that lies within,
Pure as the white floating clouds that I gaze at overhead.
Vast ist he sorrow in my heart;
Blue Heaven! When will it end?
The great wise men grow more distant each day;
Yet their example lives on in the past.
Under the breezy eaves, I open a book and read;
The ancient path illuminating my face.
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It's just that he might focus on the more superficial aspects. ]
that started off slow. it picked up once it got to the cauldron boiling
how long did that take you to memorize anyway??
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Hm... I'm not sure. It's been with me for years.
[religiously poured over in his text book, clutching to the words for a glimmer of hope in a long, dark war]
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[ Because that line sure resonates with Chase, the GLORIOUS WITCHY PHOENIX surrounded by dumb normal teenagers for so many years. ]
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[ YEAH. THAT'S RIGHT. He went there. ]
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[sidesteps like a pro]
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[JUST CUT YOUR DICK OFF FOR ULTIMATE POWER ALREADY]