The Royal We is Us
Making another round, we are rather pleased to release ‘Observing the Observables: Vol. Two.’ It is now available for download at the link below. Hard copies are also available. Simply contact us at bradley.erobinson@gmail.com and we can get one snailing your way.
Enjoy.
http://www.TheRoyalWeIsUs.com
(Source: theroyalweisus.com)
Never on my radar, I managed to find myself in Northwest territory. My last memories of the Northwest were of Seattle, with a friend when we were 15. The key parts that I took away from that trip was that rain ruled the day on a systematic clock work of the sorts, skating was of the utmost quality, the green scene was immaculate and they had Jack in the Box. Despite the rain, I had took quite the liking to it.
Having returned this time around was refreshing. Jack in the Box lost its swagger, the green scene is still killing it, skating is on a whole other level and wet season is something you have to deal with. The circumstances surrounding the initial pinpointing of the Northwest, specifically Portland, were of the best intentions I must say. Though some, and in usual order, equate to other circumstances that are always of the best intentions as well.
One early evening I had the best of intentions yet again. I was given a post, which was placed upon me by three young lads. The first, my friend who I was living with for the moment, a rather respectable young chap, who for title sake, was an ark builder. The second, a guitar guru of the sorts who was another rather respectable chap, and who for title sake, could be paralleled to Eric the Red. The third, a pint size Japanese lad who had tendencies of a .007. All three were great comrades residing from the islands. Though again, and in usual order, this equated to circumstances that were out of the order. And again, I might add, held with the best of intentions.
My main duty was being the designated state of being. My duties included, but were not limited to, simply making sure nothing out of the sorts got too nutty or out of hand, and to properly advise against any possible incursions with authority of any nature. One might say otherwise, though keep in mind, ark building is tough work, ruling shit is not for the light hearted, and having .007 skills is a rather serious juncture to come to in one’s own life. Having a chance to disconnect from such toil, can be seen as refreshing and an exploratory effort for oneself. Having understood this, I agreed to my post.
Upon watching the three lads stamp, validate and board, the mission seemed rather simple. Space and back.
Creeping in like the tide at an unreasonable hour, the energy of the room began to take shape while our agent in training began a mission that was unlike any other thus far. In this case, ark builders and conquerors are accustomed to such explorations, with agents being the rookies. Knowing the terrain, the ark builder and conqueror patiently waited. The agent however, was curious and apparently bought a space ticket to the next station and beyond. A stop on the ticket, which was not validated for the ark builder and conqueror.
“What?….This is like….wheewww..” staring at his petite Japanese paw. “I didn’t think that this was….WHAT!……NO FUCKING WAY!” with an immediate grabbing of his head with both hands.
It was obvious his energy was slowly becoming uncontainable. Pacing the small apartment on Hawthorne, the agent was getting rather excited. Still, holding true to the stereotype, the ark builder and conqueror waited… patiently. Almost break time for my post, I decided to run down the block to get a slice. The situation appeared secure enough, to exit my post for a mere 30 minutes. Upon my return, I would now conclude otherwise.
Wrapped up on the bed was the agent. I observed a keen defense strategy in play, ark builders go for the feet, while conquerors just muffle you out. With the agent in full defense mode himself, he flopped on the bed like a rag doll, with the sounds of someone dabbling in the arts of porn perhaps.
“WHAT!!!…..NO FUCKING WAY!!!!” yelled the agent with his hands flailing towards his head head and his feet kicking.
The conqueror and ark builder gazed towards me with a bewilderment of what to do. A move that I can absolutely understand. Though the intimate encounter which was occurring, was one that I felt was in better control in the hands of an ark builder and conqueror. By this time, the agent’s pants were at his ankles and he had subsided his rampage. He had managed to knock a hole in the wall during the escapade as well. Cliche as it was, his wig made me question whether or not he had misplaced something in a nearby light socket.
Dazed and to the utmost confused, the agent then stared at me. Interpreting me accordingly, he questioned with the response and shaking of the head, “What…are you seri….no way…WHAT!” And began to yell that as a mantra.
“WHAT!!!….ARE YOU……NO….FUCKING WAY! ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!….WHAT!!!!”
I was certain as to one thing, that to an outside perspective, an inconspicuous snuffing was taking place. One of my post, requirements were as follows, simply making sure nothing out of the sorts got too nutty or out of hand and to properly advise against any possible incursions with authority of any nature.
By that stature, I was again to intervene. Though the tickets of the ark builder and conqueror had been validated to a further destination they had previously not intended. From my post, the agent had chartered some serious territory and with best intentions, consequently took his mates on the ride.
Knowing that the situation would work itself out, somehow, I laxed on my post and decided to lay down, while the agent continued to blurt insanities at the absurdities in which he was witnessing. Attempts of reassuring him were futile. Leading him to an understanding of some sorts were meaningless. Nonetheless, I remained vigilant from my pillow, with covers intact.
On most accounts, ark builders, conquerors and agents are rather cunning bits of machinery. Highly honed and focused on the craft. Unnerving on the task, even during duress. But despite all these admirable qualities, on occasion the guards do slip and one becomes human. A sudden knock at the door confirmed this.
“Are you serious?” questions the ark builder of the gods.
“Portland Police Department,” responded the gods abruptly.
Small brief bits of the events about to unfold, played about like curtain climbers on the loose, in the back of my brain. From past space travels of my own, situations such as this were of the dire concerns. Though this one breathed indifference.
Dismantling from the agent’s feet, the ark builder made his way across the small apartment and to the door. Cracking it just a smidget, the light from the hallway made its way across the tile floor. The ark builder peered out, barefoot and surf shorts intact. A black boot then slid itself into the smidget, while a hand placed a Maglight at the top.
“How are you doing tonight?” poked an officer. “We had a call about some disturbances coming from this apartment. Do you mind if we come in for a bit? To make sure everything is OK?”
“Uhm…No..not really. It’s….just me…and some friends…hanging out,” poised the ark builder, while the Maglight strategically scanned its way over to the bed with the conqueror and the agent.
“Why does your friend have his hands over his mouth?” inquired the police officer. A brief moment lay still. “Why don’t you let him go.”
A natural acceptance that the mission had been bamboozled, overshadowed the ark builder and his travel mates. Sensing this, the officers stepped in, flipping the light switch and making their way to the middle of the small apartment space.
Amazed at what was in motion, the small Japanese agent sat with quarters for eyes and legs extended on the floor, coddling a sheet while his pants float at his ankles. And by every motion, I am quite certain the police officers believed a light socket of some sorts was involved.
“What..” quietly questioned the agent, as though the movie that now play was that of another tone.
“How you doing there buddy?” again poked one of the officers to the small agent, knowing full well what the gig was.
Repeating his disbelief for this b.class movie, he instead this time, chose to communicate in the language of face. A simple dead stare, in hopes that perhaps they were not onto him.
“What did you guys take tonight, I need to know cause it seems that you’re friend is having a bit of a time with whatever you did,” tendered the officer.
Not before letting the air breath, the conqueror came loose, “We took some Psilocyben..all of us.”
“You mean mushrooms?” inquired the officer. “Did you take some as well?” he quickly followed, pointing at me.
“No,” I said with covers still intact, with a bit of a chuckle for what was unfolding.
“Can you tell me your name,” again attempting to communicate with the small fragile agent. Obviously having a time with this task, the agent again chose the language of face. Fully understanding his position, the room now lay with paramedics and fireman as well.
“Well, if you’re friend can’t tell us his name, we’re going to have to take him with us and to the hospital,” said the officer.
Sizing up to the magnitude of this, the conqueror stepped in. “All you have to do, is tell them your name, and this will all go away,” he whispered into the agent’s ear. Such information to most would be given up rather quickly. Though small Japanese agents are trained for such situations as this. And with striking ability the small Japanese agent held fast.
“He’s coming with us,” declared one of the officers. Still maintaining a half troused pose upon the floor, a sudden wave of disbelief crashed in for the agent, despite his attempts to stick to the fundamentals.
“Does he have a bag or anything personal that he needs to take?” inquired the officer. “Uhm…yeah…let…me..” scrambled the ark builder, finding a the small packpack built for small Japanese agents. The conqueror also helped by adding the necessary supplies to the small and nimble packpack.
“What’s that?” bamboozled the officer.
“Oh…it’s his PSP,” responded the ark builder in a confident reassuring tone.
“I don’t think he’s going to need that where he’s going,” joked the officer. “He just needs his ID and any other thing for the night.”
“Oh…yeah, yeah…right..” clamored the conqueror.
“Let’s go buddy,” signaled the officer. “You gotta’ stand up for me.”
Slowly dragging the small Japanese agent to his feet, the officer made an inquiry for a bit of help on his trousers. Again making quick work of it and rising to the task, the ark builder and conqueror responded to the inquiry. Then following like clockwork, the moment positioned itself where it first was intended.
“Look guys. Here’s the deal. Someone called, it wasn’t a neighbor to be honest,” he said pointedly. “And by the looks, you’re not dealing drugs,” gesturing to left fields. “And whatever you guys did, your friend had quite the time with. Just take it easy. We are going to take your friend to the hospital and make sure he’s ok.”
Treating the words like a laborious task at hand, the ark builder and conqueror agreed.
The scene rapidly changed like a season on the fall. The room’s motion exited towards the door as the ark builder gave his farewells to the officer, locking the door securely behind them. A task he failed initially, and had realized early on. Giving a tug and sigh on the the chain idling mid air, at the center of the apartment, the ark builder and conqueror again chose language of face. Dashing on the wall, flashed perusing medics, officers, fireman and any other social service having regards for small Japanese agents that have been compromised.
Falling back into relief, the ark builder and conqueror called it a night, awaiting for the agents return with eyes wide asleep. Following suit, I too was relieved from my post. Eventually falling quiet, the room shift smooth. Falling fast asleep.
And like a blink, some five hours later around 2 a.m, the agent made his way back, with only the words of tired and sleep. Apologizing the following morning, the agent only again had a few words.
“Sorry about last night. I didn’t mean for all that to happen.”
Idle and still, the motion remained.
Face pale with his dark creamy frame.
Hands in pocket, legs crossed, his mind raced.
The man sits still, as the traffic swims by. His eager step to make it to the bench. He eyeballed me for a slight moment and I felt his presence. And then he sat. I was sure that I was in his chair. His bench. His view. The river…it was his. His hands never left his pockets as he strolled to his next option. The curiosity ran amuck in a simple graceful manner. A sigh. A release. Yet everything had changed and still so much was the same. The day was new. Unlike the one before. Yet he remained, quiet like a stain. He continued to sit.
Hunched from the days of labor, his cap lye still. Jacket flapping. The boats row one by one, stroke by stroke. Elite by elite. He admired with a curious nose. Pacing towards and away, with the occasional pose.
“No one would dare question his motives,” I thought to myself. “Old folks get passes for such things as farting, snarling booger bubbles and habitual compulsive habits.”
He continued his stroll. Hands in pocket. Jacket flapping. Curiosity remaining at the tip.
His life has been one that I will merely know. One that has been long and drawn with random bits of laughter, love and enjoyment. His sighs at random, signalled his inability to be entirely content with the situation. Yet he has pushed forward. Making a life for himself and his love. Overcoming the bourgeois.
“Death by smile they shall take me,” he sighs.
The world has changed and so has he. One by one, the world built itself to what it is today. The smog of twilight. Paddling bourgeois. Endless lines of honking machinery.
Yet so much still remained the same.
