Technologically-challenged lush. Does have a name, but you can call me tonight.
This blog is run by a bird. It contains bad text posts, and sometimes hot mutant yaois.
[click to sharkify] Following on from this, inspired by Palalife’s art…
His encounter with the papier-mache-headed musician leaves Charles a bit nostalgic for that Residents album he liked so much in his first year at Harvard, and he wastes some time that evening on YouTube, looking up the songs and listening to them again. Ten years on, they’re every bit as strange as he remembers; most of the album sounds as if it comes from another planet. Starting university at sixteen, Charles had felt quite like an alien himself, and when he stayed in his room revising all the time, listening to such strange esoteric music had made him feel as if he were being arty and introverted, rather than ignored by his older classmates and rather lonely.
Now he’s an adult and a tenure-track professor, and he doesn’t have the excuse of being two years younger than his peers to explain why he’s holed up in his flat rather than out and about. But then, that’s one of the pleasures of adulthood, isn’t it, Charles reflects as he puts the kettle on. He can make all sorts of questionable decisions, and answer to no one but himself.
It’s too late for caffeinated tea, but he makes himself a pot of Darjeeling regardless, buys the Residents album on iTunes and loads it onto his phone. It accompanies him everywhere throughout the rest of the week, recalling to his mind all sorts of funny things he first encountered in his early student days. By the time Friday night rolls around, Charles is sufficiently girded for whatever might happen, he thinks, though he’s hoping he won’t have to ignore any giggling people saying “Fnord.”
At the church, he follows a couple of taped-up sheets of paper bearing arrows to a large plain box of a room, with loads of folding chairs in rows and a space in front with a lot of musical instruments scattered about; not exactly a stage, since it’s not raised in any way. Well, the mystery musician did say it was a workshop, not a show. Still, there are a dozen or so people sitting in the folding chairs, so Charles joins them and waits to see what will happen.
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Oh wow, first Cherik fict I’ve had in a long while and I simply adore it! Hoping for more. ♥ firstclasssims liked this 
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codenamecesare reblogged this from luciddrugs and added: Yes, that was a reference to The Residents– here’s a playlist of YouTube clips from their Freak Show album. I’ve...
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mrkinch reblogged this from codenamecesare and added: Aaaaahhh, this is hilarious! Oh, Charles.
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Oh, this makes me so happy…I love this!!! 