FINDING CALVIN PART VII -2 - Chalk & Cheese

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Part VII - Finding Calvin - 2 - Chalk & Cheese

Calvin grips the steelcapped railing
In fresh linens of class and warm hues
Overwhelmed by sunscreen and sea salt
He palms sweeps his new silky hairdo

He peers up at the ponderous sun
And the crescenting ocean view
Before distracted by an owl landing 
Then the EDM that would come too

(20 feet away, a familiar sliding door and EDM played. And an Oriented man exits moving slowly Calvin’s way)

Chinese Man: I like them better without feet (coyly smirks at Calvin as he passes)

Calvin watches the man in black
A restrained 5.7 feet
Considering the underhand
The high-end Burmese teak

Calvin readjusts his frame
Perhaps to somewhere he’ll never be
Peering the ocean's sea-topped green
A shifting visage few would see

Lamington:
I've never seen that before (commenting on the owl perched upon the railing)

Lamington: 

How was your night?

(Mr. Lamington proffers a handheld baker's bag of hazelnuts)

Calvin: A fox that pisses on a toil, does not consider it a douche.

Lamington:  Ah, I see.  

(Mr. Lamington retracts the offer. A moment of silence lingers)

Lamington:

Give unrestrained the old emotion

The bliss that touched the verge of pain

The strength of hate 

Love's deep devotion

Oh, give me back my youth again. 

...it’s Faust. 

(While looking at the nearby swimming women and children )

Lamington: One day his mind played a trick. And he found that what is just isn’t enough, and he needed something to persist. Something to hate. What do you hate?

(With a soddened smirk and his sullied besmirching stare, Though parsing lips, he parsed not his sea-topped glare)

Calvin: An open hand covers twice the space, yet it cannot catch the wind.
(Perhaps a tongue in cheek for perceived trick. Perhaps because he did not know where to begin)

Lamington: Well, I suppose you’re one of the lucky ones--not to be boxed in. Not like one of them. No, most of them will grow manicured, quiet lives. And they will live within the confines of the preordained. They will know what, when, who and why--who not to love--and who and who not to be.

But they will never know what it’s like to truly win, will they?--Because winning is what people have to do when they face loss. No, most of them—most of anyone, really—will never feel that pang: that desire to dominate when there’s no need to. Because they’ve never learned the thirst--because they’ve never been truly thirsty. So they dawdle, satisfied to live within the confines of their cufflinks--their charities--their bed and breakfasts

But you and I we’re different, aren’t we?--We’re the difference makers. We know what it’s like. We’ve seen the other side…

(Lamington waits for a show of expression)...

Meh, maybe there is no them. No baby. No bathwater.  Just a Mestuffstoplease.

(As if for the first time, Calvin’s soiled eyes meet Lamington’s crystalized)

Lamington: Mephistophles.  Faust.  You’re so well read--did you not read it? Did you know there’s a worm named after him, found miles deep within a South African gold mine...

Calvin: Where are we?

Lamington: France...maybe. Dubai. Does it matter, really?

(Calvin recomposites into the steely Stonehenge formed from future’s antiquity)

Calvin: A seed finds much soil. And waters rearrange.

Lamington: Do you see it...the dorsal fin. It’s huge isn’t it? I wonder what it is…

Did you know that a Great White hunts where the light meets the dark.  It's called the Twilight zone.  It uses the darkness to obscure its approach, scanning the sunlit water column above for any contrast.  But if they aren't completely submerged in the dark--or, God forbid, if they ever go tits up, exposing their white bellies, they won't be ambushing anyone.

Behaviorally that makes sharks very much like cats: both relying on surprise to ambush much smaller prey.   But I suppose that's the key to any attack isn't it: just make sure you're bigger than your target

But that's where the comparison ends. You cannot domesticate a great white.  It's on an instinctual sensory loop.  It doesn't matter how much you feed it, how much you beat it,  it won't change.
No--there's no traumatizing a shark: It just runs its algorithm.  A fish is just a fish, I suppose. 

But all is well when you're the baddest apex predator in the ocean, right?--Besides orcas of course.

(While looking at a passing cossie-clad 9.6)

Lamington: yes, it’s a strange thing to empower something knowing that it will enslave you.

(Mr. Lamington drops his almost emtpy bag of hazelnuts beyond the railing)

Lamington: Come--men that hunt lions must not stare at butterflies

All kept would go unsaid
As Calvin staggered Lamington--
Suffocating the funneling
Walnut, bergamot, and eucalyptus

Through the bunkered 
Between the decks
Thumping and murmuring 
Came and went
Calvin makes a tactical shift
Hugging opposite 
The sensory drift 

Upon entering a free-form lounge
Where many thems wafted about 
Accompanying pastries and animal fats
Many grasshoppers atop this lily pad

For semi-Divined on raptorial legs 
Ladened with big feet, big hands,  big heads--
Some played cards 
Some had paper and pens 
Some seemed enraptured in creative conversations

Mr. Lamington would stand one of them
Above six feet he was above Calvin's 5'10"
They'd find a seat opposite a painting 
Among the archipelago'd--
It was the keystoned centerpiece

It was a knee-bent toddler standing above the excrement--
Mud, blood, or something antiquitous--
Curly blonde in buttercream'd brioche skin 
He blew his conche two-handed to his lips 

He was the light beheld among the bleak
Amid the deep gamuts and the earth-toned beach--
But Phosphorus backdropped or perhaps Komētēs
Though the two whites were separate the sea light would bleed 

Light in the loafers
Beneath rock and bare feet
Four entrancing eyes
Two Cthonic morphic beasts
They cloistered the frame
Amphibian creep
The painting's counterweight
Friends of Dorothy

(Lamington picks up the menu at an empty table, as does calvin.)

Lamington:  hmm, pizza's on the back ( he seems to murmer to himself)

Calvin turns to the red glimmer’s corresponding geometry
As the man unannounced gives a shoulder rub before he's seen--
With his big head and big mouth
All would compound when he speaks  
And the company came to crowd as the two became three

(Authorial note: Lamington is Rupert Featherstone)

Reginald: is Operation Sauerkraut still a go?

Rupert: until the cows come home.

Reginald: Just make sure you keep thorough notes

Rupert: in my periwinkle book, of course

(Reginald has a seat across from Lamington and Calvin)

Reginald: How do you do? (as he looks to Calvin for a response)

(Calvin’s momentary eye contact retracts back to the railing and the sea-top glimmering--Retreating into prescinded dismissiveness that he clothes carefully)

Rupert: A forked man does not consider platitudes, Reginald: he is steeled for purpose and above the lying
(With a charmfully persuasive tone and an underlying nod implying)

Reginald:..do you see him.  Your 10. 

Rupert:  sipping his bisque. I do.

Reginald: with some shark fin no doubt.

Rupert: well you show me the man, I'll show you the crime.

Reginald: Durkheim?

Rupert: No idea

Reginald: mmm, neither am I, but obscure guesses are more impressive...

(Reginald sifting through a centerpiece of something yellow and sweet)

Reginald: Yellow peanut M&Ms.  Is he mad?

Rupert: part of his creative synthesis no doubt

Reginald: or perhaps his mid-life crisis.

Rupert: people like him don't have existential crises: they just think otherwise.  Cultivating another personality for the toolkit. Who knows where he thinks he is.  Who he thinks he is.

Reginald: Maybe your Zupedo can rub his magical Popsicle sticks and tell us the way of it.

Rupert: yes, well, we must not question the divining: he brings me my supplements.

Reginald: That spear is massive....

Noticing it for the first time 
Calvin eyed it from side to side
From lentil to lentil
Fit for a titan it was raised upon high

Reginald: What abandoned cave do you think he plucked that painting from?

Rupert:  I have no idea.  Another pearl of the desert, no doubt.

Reginald:  who would have ever thought ISIS would be so good for the art world?

Rupert: yes, well ISIS may be good for the art world, but not so for its extractors.  It seems that Al Ana Arabi caught wind of Ana Turki's cache, and Ana Turki had to vacate his findings and flee.
Cultural appropriation comes with a hefty fee--head, hands and feet too

Reginald:  so the hyena calls the dung beetle a thief.  Hilarious.

(While still staring beyond the railing, at the shifted sea-topped green, intermittent his water sipping, Calvin still staring intervenes)

Calvin: one man strokes his pelt
Another man strokes his cow--
And the one that is fed will feed

(A waiter arrives)

Waiter: good afternoon, gentlemen.  Today our wonderful chef Maurice is on standby at the buffet with pizza...
(Before he could continue, Calvin would rise to his feet and leave)

Calvin approaches the red velvet robe
And is motioned by a soft-spoken man--
Dressed in all white and a papal-sized hat
He would act the sacred host for the bread that he kept
All trad 
All monad

In his right hand he held a gold spoon
It matched his gold ring that enshrined a warm blue--
He looked over Calvin to wait for his move
Behind flakes of fine spices and the chilli infused 

Calvin points to oregano 
And they side step their way through--
Onto the moist ladles where wet toppings came too
Then minutes of baking provided brief interlude
For conversation that waited for those in the mood

The chef gave a soft smile that warmed those that came to
A Real Presence for submission and for all to commune
Finally a sacred drizzle of the honey infused
Accompanying a wave of peace
And Calvin's outerlude

Chef: May God bless you

Calvin looks over his pizza
 on his way back--
A serving fit for a child
 or a man of temperance

After a few bites
Arriving from the unknown
Zupedo shows up with supplements
Before retreating to be stowed

Reginald: Ghastly. Avante Garde nonsense.

Rupert: What’s wrong?

Reginald: He’s perverted my crème brulee.

Rupert: How so?

Reginald: There’s no contrast. It should be hot and cold—with a crisp outer shell. It’s like eating flavored air.

Rupert: It really is about the cakes that we bake isn’t it (he looks at Calvin, sharing his concern and disgust, before he bites into his BLT and its lightly toasted crust)

Calvin hammerfists the table
Hearing enough
Picks up the crème brulee
And walks where help trickled from

Calvin: (Calvin walks up to the nearest servant) Take me to the kitchen.

Through wooded frames of mahogany
And entrances requiring electronic keys
He finds cooking and lounging
And Matt Damon stalwart on adjacent screen

This time it's The Departed
And the pocket texting scene
He's so unobtrusively intelligent--
Even when they know they can't believe

And he's not limp-dick'd he's celibate
Forced preservation from power unseen--
He won't be bullied by Madolyn
Nor Sergeant Dingham's anger displacing philosophy

In comes the doubting Thomas
Forced to look upon his non-contextual masterpiece
It's no cake worthy of a bonnet 
Nor the avante garde treat he thought it to be

After a brief stare
Nothing needed to be said
The chef knew of the preference 
And the one chosen in its stead 

Calvin gets to work.  He grabs a shallow ramekin, caster sugar, and blow torch.  He tops it off with a sour morello cherry, bathed in vanilla bean and almond-scented kirsch.

Before heading for the door
He gives Matt Damon one last look--
But just before he leaves
He gives him just one more

(He returns to the table with gratitude and compliment 
At the same time a woman would arrive and showcases a small peacock in her hand)

Meredith: one of the Kiwi's gave me this trinket.

Reginald: why?

Meredith: he overheard my fascination.  Pleasant man.

Reginald: he had a peacock trinket?

Rupert: very...interesting (as the two gentlemen share a laugh)

Meredith: Rupert,  Reginald are you two coming to St. Barts in October?

Rupert: No.

Reginald: I'm uncertain. Why do you ask?

Meredith: I’m just curious.

Calvin: Skinny pigs are not natural--look closer.

Meredith: Hello?  I'm Meredith.  And who are you? 

Calvin: Pleasantries are for peasants for a present unknown.

Meredith: Is that Rochefoucauld?

(Calvin sips his mango infused water, and slowly sips some mo--half in wrath and half in show)

Meredith: Why the palsy of insensibility?

Calvin: Ignorant it says: as it chews its cud: eating and shitting where it stands

Meredith: Wer ist der Salonlöwe? Ist er Franzose?

Reginald: Es ist der Raumdeuter.

Meredith: Ist er psychotisch?

Rupert: Mitspielen

Calvin: (ha-ha-ha) the dung beetle burrows to find a foxhole--and easier travel (Calvin leers for approval)

Rupert:  The sweetest kisses are bitter to a honeyed mouth (as he looks at the woman)

Meredith: And a manure fork makes the burden light...yes, well--we mustn't kill our ugly babies, I suppose
Just make sure you keep Mr. Bultitude away from the bee hive...

Reginald, let me know about St. Barts... Rupert
(Woman, nods and leaves)

Calvin: It shuffles its feet: thirsty it is

Reginald: Behind every great man is a woman--and behind her a fridge: keeping the milk from going sour (coquetishly smiles at Calvin and Mr. Lamington, as to hint to its inherent charm)

Rupert: (Lamington returns the reframe) I love the great despisers of the world, because they are the great adorers, are they not?

(Suddenly a Leitmotif would resound throughout the lounge)

Reginald: did I just hear a jingle

(As they look to their left, to the center of the room, Calvin would catch the side profile of the man dressed in blue. He touches the man in black, as he passes on through. With the Chinaman ferried, the one became two)

Rupert:  he has his own leitmotif now.  (With Incredulous contempt). 

Reginald: Him and his razzle dazzle.  I can't believe he is your brother. 

Rupert: mergers and acquisitions

Reginald: I wonder where he's off to on his roundabout of splendor?

Rupert: he's probably off to play with one of his many toys--to move fast and break things no doubt. 

(Calvin, as if murmuring from his soul, realizing he's not alone, spares a smile from the reserve, and in compassion he'd let go)...
Calvin: oh--happy blue Barry, how large you have grown.

Reginald: well I should head off.

Rupert: where will you be going after this?

Reginald: Saint Lucia. 

Rupert: Ah, enjoy

Reginald.  Always. Good luck, Rupert (with a look of caution and concern).  It was a pleasure meeting you, Raumdeuter (gives Calvin a thirsty smile)

(Reginald leaves)

Rupert: We should be going too. (As he clenches his jaw hearing the leitmotif at greater and closer distances far and apart)

Traveling through the corridors
With Calvin close in toe
Mr. lamington would show impatience
Before giving his remote a good throw

He pounds on the wall
And Zupedo would soon show
From behind the sliding synthesis
A few feet now in toe

Lamington: we're leaving

As they wait for the limo tender
There was nothing to be said
As Lamington was upset
And Calvin was entranced and entrenched 

Do they not see what he sees
Now not so far off in the distance
Was it just sea-topped greenery 
Was it something to be witnessed 

Once again, the EDM and the blue cascade  And emerging the maristroyken
The man black and the happy blue Barry

Lamington: He's happier than a pig and pork-- Isn't he? Isn't that what you people say?

(Calvin has no words)

Lamington: But we mustn't kill our ugly babies, should we?

As they boarded the tiny boat
Lamington preened the undergrowth
While Calvin far-sighted and apropos
Delivers an insight few would know

Calvin:
They hunt giant squid too


Notes:

You may disagree with his approach, but you have not seen the other side: You are not a difference maker: You are not Calvin.

Besides, who knows what Calvin is going through: apparently afflicted with jungle sense, PTSD, layered trauma, and his pre-existing mental illnesses.  Regardless,  he did seem rather engaging when he saw fit--especially at the end? Perhaps it was the sugar rush from the honey-infused Pizza.

The setting takes place on a gigayacht (the lily pad), where Rupert's brother (happy blue Barry) is host. Beyond that I will let you do your sleuthing to figure out why this is hilarious. (C.f. 4_2;  2_5; 2_6)

Without further reveals, here's dots for further context...

Is Lamington probing Calvin for sincere sentiment to establish a heartfelt connection?  Does he want to do this so he can troll him more effectively!? Or does he want to save Calvin from himself?--for unclear motives? Perhaps he rescued him for further research--and as revenge for Sarah, Barry, and the Lord in the woods (maybe that would explain the Great White convo.  Perhaps he thinks Calvin ambushed the Lord?--Sarah, The detective, the SWAT, the Chinamen, and Baker Brian too!) Is Calvin a ninja?

Is Mr. Lamington trying to redirect Calvin's malignity of spirit? If so, did he convince Calvin that they are the difference makers, while the thems are just too "plugged in" to comprehend true struggle and love? Or is Mr. Lamington just probing Calvin with the Madness of Two architecture on display?

Is Mr. Lamington's rhyming at the very beginning another hint that he's attempting to work within Calvin's mindframe, to establish or exploit synchronicity, or is that just bad prose 🤔
Regardless, the picture painted serves the future and it's a fun read.

Maybe Mr Lamington and Calvin are in a madness of two feedback loop: Calvin, Lamington's prodigal son--and Lamington, Calvin's God to his Jesus Christ? With shared delusion, but delusions not shared, what could go awry?  Would that make Jesus French in Calvin's mind?--or was the woman's comment more social humor than linguistic analysis?--perhaps Calvin is Lost in translation.

Did he really think that they are the difference makers?--did he really think pizza was a good choice--even though he chose a BLT?

Has Lamington brought out the poet spirit in Calvin?--Does Calvin feel like he needs to impress his social, economic, and intellectual betters? Regardless of the reason, it looks like Calvin may have let his ego run amock ($); but without a big head you cannot do big things, as is seen with his cake course correction and proverbial wooing.

Is Mr. Lamington probing, or does he really think he shares a mindset with Calvin? Or is he sifting Calvin like wheat, prying at the stalk for the valerian seed: Calvin's source of hate--his "them."

Mr. Lamington clearly misconstrues Faust.  Was it deliberate? Was it his attempt to prime the direction of conversation.--To box Calvin in?
Further, Mr. Lamington's performance verges on the brink of satire.  Is he working within the frame of Calvin's understanding of the "thems"?  As we know from Transblend, Calvin is aware of the bed and breakfast phenomena of the landed gentry.  Is Mr lamington extrapolating this to the other "thems"? Is he mining Calvin for understanding, for something unseen, or is he just trying to pave common ground? Establish a synchronicity?

Was Calvin a victim of suggestibility?--Did he feel peer-pressured to indulge in pizza?--Did his deepening proverbial contempt gradually bubble over with the presence of a woman: another "them."

Maybe the Matt Damon film is a coincidence? I mean, given the kitchen inclusion, it is highly improbable that he's being trolled, right? Or maybe it's selective attention: we see what we want to see ❤️

In 4_3, Lamington could have been cartooning Calvin with the cat comment. Remember, Calvin did try to catch Baker Brian and he did catch many cakes and even put some on the clearance shelf. (A.k.a. The Highland Clearances)
He also could have been mocking him as he did call him a mouse in the next entry...little did either of them know, Calvin was really a unicorn, and an ant, and a ram—and, of course, a dog.  And maybe even a shark🤔

Operation Sauerkraut: could that be referring to Lamington's recruitment activity at the Pink Fairy?
...
Could the periwinkle comment confirm that reference? Did he carry a periwinkle notebook with him while at the Pink Fairy🤔

If you think about it, the bishop is the host

If Calvin was to be groomed, did Mr. Lamington’s plan go kaput—leaving him or Calvin catstrated ($). Is there still redemptive possibilities ahead for Calvin and Mr. Lamington? If Calvin keeps impressing, how could there not be!?

Did Calvin abandon his kimono for hygenic practicality?--Does he seek to elevate himself above his caretakers with a new hairdo and fine, warm linens that resemble his surroundings?  Is he now an equal or better-than—given his distinguished speech?

What's up with the great white inclusion?  Does lamington think Calvin ambushed the Lord in the woods? Perhaps he was one of the small ones--much shorter than Calvin's 5'10"

Why did Meredith assume Calvin didn't speak German? It's very rude. 

Still no mention of the forest experience. Interesting.

Once again, Calvin found a way to amuse--providing proverbial inspiration and spreading its use.

Was Mestuffstoplease a Freudian slip?--Did Calvin mishear? Or is Mr. Lamington privy to Calvin's fantasy role with cakes?  2_1 could support this theory.  Is he also confused about what he thinks of it?--of Calvin?

Do they know about the hunt?--About whatever else is going on?

Mr. Lamington is quite the litterbug, isn't he?  Perhaps it would be impactful if Calvin found a cherry coke can or something along the riparian buff, before witnessing the disregard of the pizza container and nut bag on the yacht.  A sly way to introduce social commentary on the dangers of littering.

OMG!--was that his brother from Switzerland, the yoddler?--poor blue Barry's doppleganger?  And like poor blue Barry, is he adopted?

optional dialogue for the Chinaman: "I like their feet in my mouth." I think the dialogue I provided is more sophisticated,
but this certainly provides real-world context for their bird feet preference in the orient.  However, Gemini agrees that a broad sweeping statement is justifiable...
"When applied to a high-register or surrealist narrative style, that kind of blunt, indiscriminate devouring carries a powerful unsettling weight. It doesn't need to match real-world menus if the intent is to paint the character as delightfully unhinged or operating by an entirely alien logic." So perhaps this is not only about birds, but maybe he likes his women without feet too. Just a thought 🤔

This entry was inspired by Robert Sapolosky's Us vs Thems exploration

$ - #NewWord

I initially thought of the American Lamington as a tall Tom Buchanan (from The 2013 Great Gatsby).  In fact I'm going to recommit to that personage, as it will become quite entertaining to imagine going forth.
Though, if both personas could be juggled, I like envisioning Tom Hiddleston as Lord Rupert Featherstone.
It should be noted that whenever it's only Calvin and Mr Lamington, the name Lamington is used by Calvin, even after his reintroduction in 4_3 as Lord Featherstone.  So does he sound like Tom Buchanan or Tom Hiddleston in the presence of Calvin? I like to believe that I have accommodated both possibilities with the syntax.  With that being said, it is hard to fathom him code switching without Calvin bringing it to attention.  Then again, it seems that Calvin is quite the code switcher too.
(The idea of code switching is supported with Lamington's introductory character description in The Many Colors of B (It's probable that I purposefully crafted it that way for the future possibility🤔. 

1_2 reflective:
Perhaps there is a presentation where we don't know what was said at La Vue--just the visual of Calvin's dictatorial presentation and the striking music overlaying the scene (perhaps Beethoven?).  (It seems more mysterious and negates the silliness of the jelly sales pitch,  while preserving the dictatorial flare that Calvin effusively presented. Presumably.)

Did Mr Lamington unknowingly start Calvin on a path of one-upsmanship? Perhaps it's a coincidence? Perhaps it's destiny?... That was the initial idea I had with the Faust quote opener.  But I decided for Calvin to be predetermined in that direction, as to not imply Lamington's direct influence.  I suppose, regardless of the reason, proverbial sentiment has been brewing for quite some time, hasn't it?

Calvin seems collected. Perhaps even calm and cool. Perhaps he didn't sabotage the individuation process. Perhaps it is only through further trauma that his trauma could be amended. Perhaps.  But the individuation process is a misnomer as it is a lifelong endeavor--as there is no beginning nor end.

It should be noted that it's unclear if M&Ms are adorning every table top, but what a unique decorative use...
(Yellow M&M's? Yellow Pearl?) I got the idea from Van Halen's unique use of them.

Grasshoppers eat wheat

Image:
it seems that Calvin and Lamington can be seen in both a positive and negative light. Though positive could just be a matter of perspective?

Did both Lamington and Calvin expose their undersides?--Going tits up?

I passed them in the halls, I knew them by name--and I even watched some of them eat.  Yet I only walked by their classrooms.  I never entered.  So I cannot say that I was privy to their inner-circle contemplations.  Still, though I cannot say that I know the intelligentsia, I imagine their conversations include more than shorting, asset accumulation, and arbitrage--as the demonification often depicts. 

Note: there could be a future where I explore small-bus culture, as I am familiar with the avenues of exploration
--and, believe it or not, there are more of us than you would like to think.

I imagine that it would be a prequel, or perhaps a spin off with Dave--he would be quite entertaining within a special-ed classroom.  At least, that's what I suspect 🤔

There's a certain humor that Dave can elicit that Calvin and Lamington cannot.  And then put him on a small bus--and who knows!?!

Proverb insight:
was Calvin referring to his midnight mistress or the offer of hazelnuts? Did Calvin urinate on her?--and why?

Authorial reflective:

I thought of a more subtle approach-- at least until the woman arrives--but I really wasn't inspired to create any more proverbs once the process developed after a certain point, so I had Calvin come hard out the gate.   
The impression chosen could have a a couple different impacts, and it does work with all of the endings contrived so far: but of course that will depend on how I present them.  But rest assured, regardless of your politics and religious opinion, there is an ending for you! But which ending will I prefer?--Honestly, at the end of the day I just want to see Calvin happy.

P.s.  if you see me and I look mad, I probably am. Because every moment I waste not paying attention to Calvin and his journey is one more moment I can't get back.  But I guess this is the work-life balance I heard so much about.  I guess it's not too bad.  Jacob had to wait 14 years for his Rachel, after all.  I do, however, feel like Liam Neesen in The Dark Man--except with a stronger sense of humor about the whole thing

On a personal note, time at my age is too precious, so I don't do anything unless I'm invited or ignited--and Calvin is someone I'm on fire for!--Thanks be to God!

Also, during my cooking-with-Calvin heyday--I have called for death upon my enemies on a couple of live streams, and I am sorry for that.  I became one with Calvin and I took everything personally.  In short, I forgot who I was: becoming lost in my method-writing and ego.  But now on the tale-end of Calvin's drama, being of a mature mindset, I no longer wish my enemies harm: for I understand "The Game."  And whoever they may be, I stand with you!--unless you're anti-American, then obviously I can't support you.  I hope everyone understands that the artist makes the art: the art does not make the artist (unless you like it, of course :)--then I'm #IT).
Regardless, I lean into the provocative and funny. And I've actually never done anything inappropriate with cakes: I do not even overeat--most of the time: let alone eat in the bathroom or broom closet like some...one interesting #interesting.  Any way, now that I've said my mea culpas, hakuna matata.   

The day we start policing our art is the day we can no longer tolerate rap music--which is a great tool for antagonizing that which we need to perform on a physical level.  I suppose we could transition to Wardruna🤔. The point is that we should laugh and feel empowered, and comedy and rap can assist us in accomplishing these goals.  I'm pretty sure that was the point.  Besides, the Lord laughs at our calamity, so why not laugh at each other!?

Note: this verse seems needlessly provocative...
"He was the light beheld among the bleak
Amid the deep gamuts and the earth-toned beach--
But Phosphorus backdropped or perhaps Komētēs
Though the two whites were separate the sea light would bleed
"
...
it's about the dawning of a new day, or a comet hitting the Earth 🤔
And it alludes to the reunification of the two whites--Lamington and Calvin...or America and Britain...the brain and the heart #🫶

Comet?--hmm. I wonder if it resembles the pictures of 3_4 and 4_3?

Authorial reflective:

Going forward, I'm really thrilled about the ramification possibilities, and I really hope that I can give Calvin the ending you deserve--whichever Calvin you choose to believe in when the end comes 🙏

Going forward I would like to thank my team for their faith and support.  You know who you are #<3

The only reason to explore the conversation beyond entertainment purposes is to root out a truth that contributes to the story as a whole--whether fictional or not.  Since there is no truth to be understood at this time, it would be pointless to muster up something that is speculative.  So I chose this approach--as it's entertaining, justifiable, and contributes to future reveals.  I really thought I was in a hole with this one, for I did not foresee the proverbial possibility at first.  But like magic it just popped in my head.  And what turned out to be non-contextual "extra" just might be a contributing factor for the "wow"—hopefully.  But I do not want to put the carts before the horse, as I still have to entertain and execute until the end.

Truth be told, there are elements I want to explore and those that I don't. Anything uninspired will feel blasé, and it will read as such--like some parts of some scripts (&)  Besides, the notes at the end serve a great deal in providing context, and are sometimes a reveal in themselves.  Irregardless (☺️), the endings should resonate with the psychologies involved--whatever they are revealed to be.

I will not get into specifics regarding Calvin's foosball trauma, but it will be light-heartedly and wisely exploited. Unlike...Clergy, Calvary, The Pope's Exorcist, Doubt, Spotlight, Sleepers—all involve imagery much more controversial than Finding Calvin. Regardless, the genre of this narrative is quite flexible depending on what ending you want to believe in. 

With that being said, in order to keep it PG-13, I think the torture scene with Sarah would have to be revisited: maybe she was just dropped off and then the dialogue would pick up again with the mouse and lion comment.

Note on endings:
I've noticed an extreme lethargy when one decides to wrap up a creative endeavor.  You see this in many movies where they just wrap up the last third, perhaps relying on formula rather than inspiration for their work's completion.  To avoid this one must believe that there is no end, and it should come as a surprise for one's self as well.  Three is the magical number. I recently heard the documentary that Pixar demands creators to have at least three possibilities, so they don't write towards the ending (I imagine it would be otherwise a foreseeable conclusion.  Also, powers higher still might have another preference for possibility).  Any way, the remaining material will inevitably lead to future content, at least with one of the endings involved.

The beauty of this narrative is that there's something for everyone.  Everyone can feel reflected within the drama!

Does anyone bait The rolling Stones to cover Nirvana?--Drake to cover blink-182?--Steven King to cover Shakespeare.  What this is suits the character of the drama: the drama of Calvin.

It seems that Calvin has made a transition #trans
#staythirstyteam

$ - new word!

Artistic selection: instead of cow and ant, I used "it"--Because I think it's funnier to visualize when he says it.













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