Author Archives: mcscarry

Sitting in the Grass

I did something very important today –

When I saw that it was 60 degrees and sunny outside, I left my desk and I walked to the nearby Panera. I purchased a cherry danish, stepped outside, and sat in the grass. It occurred to me that I hadn’t sat in the grass all year. I ran my hand across the blades, which were simultaneously scratchy and soft. In the dimming sunlight of the autumn afternoon, I realized 2018 is drawing to a close.

This has been a hectic year. A year where I voluntarily lost control of my time. I didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy my summer. My 1-year anniversary arrived with my pending fiancee, and I was surprised by the fact that months 1-6 contained more vivid memories than months 7-12.

In 2018, I tried to do too much, which resulted in me doing little at all. My band absorbed so much of my time that I’m considering quitting. I haven’t played as much soccer, poker or volleyball as I would’ve liked. I was able to get in a couple of rounds of golf, which are happy memories to me because my gf was my caddy and we went wild in our golf cart across golf courses in two countries: USA and Canada.

The tepid sunlight and its mild warmth, the smell of living grass, and the clear blue sky on an afternoon where the wind exposes the bare branches as it undresses the trees, all give me pause to reflect on the year that was.

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Fallout Zombie Dream

Last night, I dreamt that my Dad, step-mom Nora, and sister Rose were altogether and that we were with my Dad as he was shopping for space in an atomic bomb proof vault. The location was beneath a large hotel, complete with conference rooms. My Dad was completing his purchase when the alarm went off, indicating an attack. But I knew something that my family didn’t. There was no attack, it was all part of a survival experiment.

I knew this because I had a dream-memory or flashback to being in a similar situation where there was a countdown to closing the vault, but then zombies were released. In the memory, my fight had started at the edges of the grand ballroom (perks of being a wallflower) and I fought my way out, dodging zombies and hiding as I went. I was one of the lucky survivors. For whatever reason, the vault employees and security had missed me when interviewing my family. I had to save my family.

It was just after dusk when my family had pulled up to the hotel to buy, so it was dark outside. After the alarm went off, we were instructed to follow the directions of the guards as they waved us through. As we walked the majestic hallways of the hotel, I was glancing around, looking for signs of zombies. We passed a dark hallway with the lights off when I saw one in a cage, hungry to be released.

My family entered the same ballroom that I had fought my way out of, and that was the last straw. I tugged my Dad’s shirt, “We need to talk, privately. Nora and Rose should come too.” I pulled them aside near to the hallway and told my Dad that we had to get out of there. I told him about how I had to fight my way through zombies the last time I was here and that this was all a trick. He didn’t believe me. The announcement came that they were going to close the doors in 10 minutes. I told him to trust me. “What is the worst that could happen?” I asked, “So the family is instantly vaporized by atomic weapons. At least we would die together, rather than suffer the horror of being separated and eaten by zombies.”

Somehow, this convinced him. We started walking out, telling the guards that we had to pick up something from the car. We all got in the car, and started to drive away, when my Dad noticed a VIP section or gallery opening or something and pulled over the car. We all got out. If the bomb was going to drop, he wanted to have a final drink.

We entered the VIP section, shaped like a tent attached to the hotel, and everyone was dress at a black tie standard, compared to my Dad in his tommy bahama hawaiian shirt. We were offered wine and champagne. My Dad took a scotch as the countdown reached closer to completion. Only 2 minutes left. I took the car keys from my Dad and set down my glass of wine. I decided that I would go get the car. As I started walking towards the exit, one of the security guards, a woman, stabbed me in the abdomen with a syringe. “Good luck ‘seeing’ your way out of this one with your eyes dialated,” she said and the world turned blindingly bright.

I stumbled out of the VIP section and I heard the roar on the wind of the zombies. It was night outside, but I could barely see. I made my way to the family Ford Explorer, started it up, and began driving it up the staircase and crashed it into the VIP area to rescue my family.

As I pulled up, I became increasingly blinded, but more importantly, everyone was gone. Apparently they left in the final minute down the hall toward the grand ballroom. I sat in the atrium with the engine running and the doors locked. A different security guard woman walked up and was about to ask a question, when my Dad walked up behind her and said it was okay and got into the truck. There was no sign of my stepmom or sister. I crawled to the back seat and locked the doors. I felt sick to my stomach and really drowsy and fell asleep in the backseat. As I was falling asleep, I heard my Dad begin the adventure of rescuing the rest of our family from zombies.

Bungee Trapeze Dream

Last night, I dreamt that I was a member of an amateur trapeze act. We were going to perform at an outdoor amphitheater beside a frozen lake. It was late winter/early spring. There had been some melting the day before, but everything had refrozen. I remember standing on a rock beside the lake and amphitheater at dusk. Purples, dark blues and blacks overtook the sky as the fading orange of the sun dissipated.

I was attached to a tandem bungee cord with another male performer dressed in white tights and rhinestones. I was dressed in black with a fir mink collar which was soft and warm. We jumped from the rock and tandemed through the air – low, high; low, high. We would take turns landing on the lake. Up, down; up, down. I enjoyed the experience of controlled flight with someone else.

There weren’t very many people in the audience because it was dark and cold, maybe only a dozen or so. At the far end of our guy-wire, I landed on the ice and broke through. I had fallen knee deep before the other end of the tandem came down, allowing me to fly through the air and out of the broken hole in the lake. My partner and I bounced our way back to the rock, having lost our momentum in the fall. We looked like we were taking turns walking on the moon.

My partner and I climbed the rock and the attendants were beginning to examine my legs when I woke up.

Recent Dreams

I’ve had quite a few dreams recently, so I want to get into the habit of writing them down again. My dog Harley also had a dream last night. Hers was a nightmare, because I could hear her growling and sleep barking and twitching in the middle of the night.

 

They’re Taking My House Dream

 

Last night, I dreamt that I had my Dad and family over to my house for movie night. The house was very similar to my childhood home on Bloomington Ave. I have my car in the garage and everyone arrives. We are starting to settle in when I receive a knock on the door. It is a detective, 5 policemen and the sheriff at my door. They show me a worn and dog-eared summons and complaint along with a writ of eviction. I insist there must be some mistake, since I’m current on my mortgage, but the detective says that this isn’t about the mortgage. The neighborhood across the street had formed an association and sued all of the homeowners on my block to condemn/bulldoze our houses because our homes “represented a blight upon the community and local property values.” This lawsuit hadn’t shown up when I was in the process of buying the house, but that didn’t matter. The judge had agreed, the appeals were over, and now the law was being enforced. We were to vacate immediately and leave everything behind. We didn’t even have time to grab our coats and shoes.

Everyone in the neighborhood was in the street and I could tell that a riot was about to begin. I took the summons, complaint and other paperwork to a friend of mine across the street and down the block. He greeted me at the door. When I showed him the paperwork, his face turned sad. He admitted that he was a part of the association. He had noticed the lawsuit in his association newsletter, but that he had never taken the lawsuit seriously. He thought it was unprecedented; having a judge condemn your neighbors homes for blight, but it happened. I was furious, so I left his home.

It was after dark and the people in the street were gone. My family wanted their coats and shoes back and I wanted my mikick (baby blanket). I told them to wait in the car around the block while I broke into the house. My key still worked and I slowly and quietly moved through the house. I got my mikick right away, but I was discovered on the first floor. The detective shined his light on me and he was with a policeman. I explained that I came back to get my family’s coat and shoes and he let me do that.

The next morning, I went to the bus stop to catch the bus to work. I was wearing the same clothes as the day before. I considered taking the day off to get a lawyer to see what I could do to battle my foreclosure. A friend from real life, Paco, was also with me at the bus stop. Him and the other folks at the stop were barefoot. I had some notepads from the hotel I stayed in and I showed him how to use the cardboard as soles for a makeshift shoe. It worked for a few steps, but then broke.

Before the bus arrived, my Dad pulled up in his car. “Where’s your car, son?” he asked.

“It’s in the garage,” I said, “Oh fuck.”

“Do you think you can get it?”

“I’ll try,” I said as I got into his car.

For some reason, we drove to a local mechanic shop a couple of blocks away from the house. My Dad talked with the mechanic, giving him a vague reason of a sound my car made when it started. He said we would drop it off that morning. The mechanic seemed friendly enough for a middle-aged man with pepper hair. I don’t know what the plan was for the mechanic. Maybe he was trying to get more paperwork or something?

After the mechanic, we slowly drive up the alleys until we come to my house. I can see that they’ve changed the locks already because the key boxes are already on the doors. It is when I’m in the back yard, debating whether to break into the house again or into the garage right away to get the car, when I wake up.

 

Sand Dream

 

On Friday night, in real life, I was invited over to my friend Dan’s house to play poker. He is getting married in two weeks, but I’m not invited to the wedding. That’s okay. I’ve not been invited to weddings before and I stayed friends. Although, in this case, I have yet to meet his fiancé. Poker was fun. I stayed after everyone left and helped clean up and Dan and I caught up on the past year.

That night, I dreamt that I was in Chicago visiting Jazzy. We went and played sand volleyball for a few hours at sunset. Afterward, we walked back to a modern condominium complex where she lived. I was completely covered in sand from volleyball and she was kind to let me shower at her place.

After we both took a shower, I opened up a bottle of chardonnay and we started talking and playing board games. It was nice to catch up, because we haven’t seen each other for about 10 years or something. She owned a store similar to a tattoo store where she worked and where we went for her first tattoo. I vaguely remember her telling me the story of the store and of her time in Chicago. We played Scrabble and she beat me like always. At the end of the night, she went to her room and I slept on her leather couch. That was the end of a pleasant dream.

January 104, 2018

January 104, 2018 –

Gale-force winds buffet my shelter as winter weather lingers on. Astronomically, it is spring, for the sun rises and sets beyond 6 bells. Yet this forsaken land refuses to yield it’s wintry grasp.

I hear the cries of the souls of the mutineers on the winds, and I fancy they have resorted to cannibalism by now. It is already past 2 weeks since the Easter mutiny and I alone have remained, because the captain always remains with his vessel. Alas, the Good Ship Deflatable is inoperable and offers poor shelter to the storm.

I pray for spring and for an abatement of the madness of my crew. May God have mercy on us all and end this winter.

Lesson From Littlefinger

If you are not caught up on Game of Thrones, stop reading. If you don’t care about Game of Thrones or are all caught up, keep reading.

 

Littlefinger, aka Lord Petyr Baelish, is tied for my favorite character on Game of Thrones. Part of the purpose of this essay is to examine why I like him so much and what aspects of his character arch and character development I can incorporate into my storytelling.

 

 

Character Summary

 

For those not so well-versed, I’ll give a summary of who he is, what his back story is, and his relationship to the Game of Thrones. Most of this can be found on the Wiki of Ice and Fire. The Baelish family were relatively new landed lords, given scrub land in a region known as The Fingers, which were located in the kingdom of The Vale in Westeros. In fact, Petyr’s father is the first member of this minor lordship and his family was impoverished.

At the age of 8, Petyr took all he owned and moved to capital of the neighboring kingdom, Riverrun in The Riverlands. There he befriended the children of the most powerful lordly house, the Tully’s, who were Edmure, Catelyn and Lysa Tully. It was Edmure Tully who gave him the nickname “Littlefinger” due to his frail stature and insignificant nobility.

As they grew up together, a system of one-way affections developed. Lysa loved Petyr, but Petyr loved Catelyn, yet Catelyn did not return his affection, and so on. When Catelyn was to be married to Lord Stark of Winterfell, heir to the Kingdom of the North and one of the most important lords on the entire continent of Westeros, Petyr challenged Lord Stark to a duel. Littlefinger lost, and would have been killed had Catelyn not interceded. It was here that Littlefinger was at his lowest point and his true quest for power begins.

Catelyn married Lord Stark and Lysa married Lord Arryn of The Vale, which is the most powerful house in the kingdom where Baelish fiefdom was located. Littlefinger befriended Lord Arryn and became appointed as the custom’s officer of Gulltown, where he started to accumulate his fortune. His skills at money management lead to a 10-fold increase in revenues. After the success of Robert’s Rebellion, Lord Arryn becomes Prime Minister of the continent of Westeros, a position known as “Hand of the King.” Because of Littlefinger’s managerial success, Lord Arryn appoints Littlefinger as “Master of Coin,” or chief tax collector. As is remarked later in the series, “When Jon Arryn named you Master of Coin, nobody cared. It’s always been a grubby job. Why not let a grubby man do it?”

There is power to be had in the gutter and power to be obtained through money. This is what Littlefinger establishes throughout his career. He opens a chain of brothels in the capital and begins catering to the whims and vices of all the noble lords. As a result, he develops the skills of a spymaster and ingratiates himself to many a nobleman, yet allies himself with few. As he would remark in the series, “Information is power,” only to be reminded by the queen that power is power.

Even though this is a bit of a spoiler, Littlefinger is the one who convinces Lysa to murder her husband which ignites The Game of Thrones series. Through a series of negotiations and betrayals, Littlefinger deftly maneuvers himself to more powerful positions. He successfully dispatches Lord Stark by entrapping him in a feud with the royal family, freeing himself to try to win the hand of Catelyn, who rebuffs him again.

During the War of the Five Kings, Littlefinger successfully negotiates an alliance between the royal family and another powerful house, the Tyrells: Margaery Tyrell is to marry King Joffrey. Littlefinger is granted Castle Harrenhal as a reward for the alliance. At the wedding, Littlefinger oversees the poisoning of the king at the request of the Tyrells. (Fans rejoice; King Joffrey is one of the most despicable characters of the show)

Unfortunately, Catelyn’s daughter’s husband is framed for the murder. Catelyn’s daughter’s name is Sansa. Littlefinger smuggles Sansa out of the capital and they return to his home kingdom of The Vale. Once there, Littlefinger and Lysa marry and Littlefinger ascends to becoming one of the most powerful lords in The Vale. However, the marriage is a sham. Littlefinger falls in love with Sansa. When Lysa finds out, she becomes enraged and tries to murder Sansa by casting her through “The Moon Door,” which is a false door that plummets a person to the cliffs below. Littlefinger intercedes and throws Lysa through the Moon Door. When Littlefinger and Sansa undergo an inquest by the other lords, they cover for eachother and are acquitted of the murder.

Once acquitted of one murder, it is important not to forget that Sansa is still wanted for the murder of the king. Littlefinger negotiates a marriage between Sansa Stark and Ramsey Bolton. Earlier, the Boltons betrayed the Starks to seize control of The North, so Sansa is less than enthusiastic for a marriage to one of her enemies. I will return to this later to examine the reasons behind this marriage.

Unsurprisingly, the marriage to Ramsey Bolton turns out badly for Sansa. Ramsey is a sadistic bastard who derives great pleasure from the torturing of others. Ramsey murders his father to become the supreme lord of the North. Sansa’s bastard brother, Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, supports a rival King, King Stannis, who marches on Winterfell only to lose to the Boltons. During the battle, Sansa escapes and travels north to gain protection from her brother. Ramsey finds another Stark brother and holds him hostage and demands that Jon Snow return his wife and swear fealty to him. Instead, Jon Snow marches his armies south to Winterfell, where The Battle of the Bastards takes place. The deciding moment of the battle occurs when Littlefinger leads his army of mounted knights to aid Jon Snow.

Following the battle, Jon Snow is named King of The North. Littlefinger supports Sansa as leader over her brother and reveals to her his aims to become king and his vision of her to become queen by his side. Foreign affairs force King Snow to leave Winterfell, where he leaves Sansa in charge. More Stark children appear out of hiding and settle in Winterfell: Brandon Stark, who has enhanced powers to see past and present, and Arya Stark, who is a practiced assassin.

Littlefinger sees all these variables as competing factions for leadership of the north, and he sets about using his spycraft and behind-the-scenes machinations to try and sever the relationships between the Starks while, at the same time, trying to befriend them individually. His tricks ultimately prove unsuccessful for, in the season finale, he is confronted in open court for his murders and his treason by Sansa, with Brandon Stark presenting evidence. There is no escape and Littlefinger is executed by Arya in front of everyone in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

 

 

Character Analysis

 

So why is a sleazy, power-hungry, little man my favorite character on Game of Thrones? There are several reasons. First of all, unlike all of the other characters in the show, he was not born into power. He earned it through cunning and intellect. He represents a bourgeoisie element in a show mostly dedicated to battlefield prowess and noble birth. Since George R.R. Martin drew inspiration for Game of Thrones from history, the Middle Ages, and specifically, The War of the Roses, I think the character of Littlefinger is best represented by the historical figure Cosimo de Medici, the founder of the Medici power in Florence. Both Littlefinger and Medici share a common backstory and used similar methods to gain power.

Second, his background of powerlessness feeds his quest for power. He knows he can not compete on the battlefield, as was made manifest by the duel against Lord Stark. This leads to the development of other, novel skills which he uses to find a way to dispatch his enemies by using other players on the board. He develops an ability to out think his adversaries, making them unable to see the trap until it is too late.

Nevertheless, he is a flawed, malevolent character. His unrequited love for Catelyn leads him to become cynical, and his ability to manipulate Lysa makes him develop sociopathic tendencies. His financial acumen reduces everything to numbers and his ownership of brothels and human trafficking reduces people to objects and pieces on a gameboard. Even as he develops his powers of thinking, planning, secrecy, scheming, he loses almost all compassion. His sense of the people he cares for becomes twisted.

While many fans are repulsed by Littlefinger’s love for Sansa, the reaction surprises me when compared to other deviant sexual behavior that occurs throughout the show, including incest, homosexuality and sadism. Given the supposed time period, the middle ages, it was common for older men to marry younger women. Still, that doesn’t excuse the fact that transference of affection from mother to sister to niece/daughter is pretty disturbing.

 

So what led to Littlefinger’s downfall? From my reckoning, Littlefinger’s downfall was a lack of due diligence and a failure to solidify his powerbase. The peak of Littlefinger’s power occurred with his marriage to Lysa, but his marriage was so short that his lordship over The Vale was tenuous. He has to convince Lysa’s son to support him through bribery and he forces the other noble lords to support him through blackmail.

Simultaneously, his chain of brothels were destroyed by religious fanatics (The Sparrows) and there was no retribution or effort to rebuild on Littlefinger’s part. This likely led to a reduced information flow. Littlefinger himself admitted that he knew nothing of Ramsey Bolton, to whom Sansa was supposed to marry.

With regards to Sansa’s arranged marriage to Ramsey, I give the following reasons. First, Littlefinger was eager to restore Sansa to The North, no matter the cost, thinking that her nobility would protect her and give her power over that kingdom. Once in power, Littlefinger hoped to parley his relationship with Sansa toward higher goals, ultimately leading to the throne. Second, Littlefinger also believed that King Stannis would be successful in capturing Winterfell from the Boltons. Should the marriage of Sansa and Ramsey not work out, Stannis and Littlefinger would come to the rescue. These turned out to be poorly placed bets, forcing Littlefinger to take command of the army to rescue Sansa.

Even though Littlefinger is a crafty schemer and thinker, he had a limited imagination. He remained tethered to his landholdings in the Vale and was obsessed with becoming warden of the North, which he intended to use to eventually seize the crown. Had he engaged with lords from other kingdoms, or used his money to hire more mercenaries (like Medici would’ve done), he might have avoided the trap of being cornered in Winterfell.

 

Finally, what I think I liked most about Littlefinger is how the heroic flaws of detachment and secrecy, which allowed him to succeed in the capital of King’s Landing, were the very things that led to his demise in Winterfell. It was ironic to watch the man who trusted no one, trust his protégé and aspiring lover, only to be executed for treason in open court. Love proved to be his ultimate undoing. That is the lesson I take away from Littlefinger – The things we are good at are not always good for us.

The Junkyard

I came home from a movie and it was before my bedtime. I have the house to myself and I feel no great urge to watch television. I powered up my internet machine and proceeded to entrap myself in the worldwide web. When I turned on the computer, I wanted to play online poker, but once the computer was on, I wanted to play Monopoly online. Alas, my online Monopoly account isn’t working. I didn’t want to check e-mail and I felt poker would be a waste of time. Facebook is tiresome and its content, albeit from my friends, is unrewarding. I decided I would rather read a few blogs on WordPress and blolirt (blog-flirt).

 

I travelled down the tunnel of topics. I chose dating, because I was curious to see how frustratingly pointless other people find the activity. Perhaps I would find some nuggets of truth? A hidden suggestion I had heretofore never considered?

My mind wandered separately from my eyes as I clicked from blog to blog. I began to think of a junkyard. Stacks and stacks of crushed cars. Cars that were once cared for and loved by their owners. Cars which were the object of optimism and aspiration. “Some day, if I work hard enough and save, I will have this car,” the dough-eyed youngster pined.

But then the car rolled off the lot and depreciation began. Time and use caused one component after another to fail. Or else, some critical user error caused the car to become destroyed beyond repair in an automobile accident. Perhaps the initial owner loved the car, but had to sell and subsequent owners became less and less kind, until ultimately a thoughtless youngster beat it into the ground. Or perhaps the car was sold to a rental agency, becoming a whore to any person with a credit card and a driver’s license.

My point is, a question began to form in my mind: to what extent has online dating become a stroll through the junkyard? Especially for a man my age. Nothing is pure or innocent anymore. Everything has been discovered. There is no frontier, no manifest destiny. There are only broken families and broken hearts that despair at the thought of being alone. They wish that help was on the way.

So if I’m strolling through the junkyard, what am I really looking for? Parts for other cars? Or am I fascinated by the great rusting hulks, contemplating what could have been? Or do I observe the damage and imagine what might have happened?

Believe it or not, there are actually some worthwhile things in the junkyard. There are cars, whose body is horribly mangled, yet the engine is in perfect working order. There are other cars where the axel snapped and the tires rolled away, but the body is pristine and flawless. All it really needs is some tires, right?

 

I think it really is a matter of attitude. I need to separate this defeatist mentality that online dating is like a job interview for romance. I think I wanted to come on to WordPress because I wanted to get away from the Instagram pictures and the slutty, duckfaced poses and read some real words; listen to some real thoughts. Tonight, I have not been disappointed.

I would rather read some honest things that someone has written than waste my hours sending pointless, “Hey” and “How are you doing?” messages. Even worse, committing the fallacious sin of sending a structured, meaningful message to an online picture of a supposed human being using the Hi-Observation/Compliment-Personal Connective Sentence-Question format, which is my usual online messaging habit.

The only fish in the sea are the robots beckoning me to their online webcams so they can infect my computer with viruses. Why not just skip the physical contact and contract an internet STD instead?

 

Oh man, I’ve travelled to a dark place. I had better leave this junkyard and return to the dealership showroom floor.