Post by Josh Kennedy on Jun 17, 2017 20:08:16 GMT -5
Off-Camera:
[Mood Music: This Will Destroy You - Burial On The Presidio Banks]
28th June 2016
Birmingham, England
Father's Day always dredges up a lot of things for Josh, none of them particularly positive. At least, not anymore. In the years since his father's death, Josh has increasingly spent time ruminating on the little hints of his father's condition that he had completely missed as a child. Sorely hungover, and ruminating over his relationship with Saskia, Josh heads out of the hotel lobby and into the mild air of the obscured English summer. Casting his eyes upwards, he sees exactly why it's so dim, despite the relative warmth. Foreboding dark grey clouds hang in the sky, bringing with them the vague threat of potential rain. Disregarding the sky's warning, Josh presses on, making his way into a rustic coffee shop. He stands in line, casting his eyes around the place and registering the bustle of the people packing the place to capacity, catching snippets of conversations about work, family, recent holidays, all that standard fare. He orders his drink to go, recieving it in a polystyrene cup with a plastic lid and handing over a few coins in exchange. Josh finds himself taking a liking to Birmingham. Despite the typical miserable, grey architecture of your average English city, and the densely urban surroundings, it has an odd, almost grim charm to it. He finds a seat on a bench on one of the streets, and takes it, nursing his coffee. Amongst the bustle, he notices a long-haired metalhead type nodding in his direction and gesturing at his shirt. Josh sees that the stranger's also rocking a Darkthrone shirt, and Josh returns the nod with a small grin. The guy winks and disappears into the crowds of passers-by. Josh's mind wanders far from Birmingham after this, back to Florida, back to his childhood. When Lexi was born, it was their father who'd left the workforce to care for the children, as their mother's job was the one that had brought in most of the money. Josh still remembered the days they would spend in the nearby mall as toddlers. He and his sister running around the place, ducking and weaving between strangers' legs, high on sugar from the ice-creams their father would buy them. The cheap bubblegum flavoured ones that made their tongues go blue. But no matter what, their father would just laugh at their antics and keep a watchful eye on them at all times as the siblings hyperactively ran into each and every store around, eyes darting across shelves before they immediately got bored and moved onto the next storefront. It was almost uncanny, the way that their father would always manage to keep up with them somehow. The budding, active imaginations of the young Lexi and Josh had determined it was because their father had some kind of special dad-themed superpowers that allowed him to always know where they were, what they were doing, when they were lying. Those things that somehow always seemed so impossible to them at the time. Josh's favourite thing about that mall was one year when they had a large animatronic T-Rex installed. The thing would jerkily sweep its head and let out a tinny, mechanical roar every few minutes. Josh would always try to roar back in some vain attempt to scare it in return. Really, it was a rather cheap piece of kit, but to Josh, it was everything. He'd always loved dinosaurs. Fearsome, dominant hunters of their world, perfectly evolved to serve their purposes. Now, as that childish sense of wonder at the world had long-since worn off, he'd realised that those magnificent, mysterious, extinct creatures little more than dumb, oversized lizards that lumbered around with no understanding of the world around them. The other thing he'd always been fascinated by was the pock-marked, craggy, almost leathery skin of his father's face. It had made him look battle-worn, but strong and stoic. As Josh had grown up, almost completely alone except for his sister, he'd come to learn just how battle-weary his father really had been as he started to fight those same inner demons himself. And he'd learned shortly afterwards just what a hard battle to sustain that was, began to understand the strength it had taken his father to make it as far as he had. Every single day recently, Josh had increasingly seen that same quality start to etch itself into his face like a sculptor into stone.
[Mood Music: This Will Destroy You - Burial On The Presidio Banks]
28th June 2016
Birmingham, England
Father's Day always dredges up a lot of things for Josh, none of them particularly positive. At least, not anymore. In the years since his father's death, Josh has increasingly spent time ruminating on the little hints of his father's condition that he had completely missed as a child. Sorely hungover, and ruminating over his relationship with Saskia, Josh heads out of the hotel lobby and into the mild air of the obscured English summer. Casting his eyes upwards, he sees exactly why it's so dim, despite the relative warmth. Foreboding dark grey clouds hang in the sky, bringing with them the vague threat of potential rain. Disregarding the sky's warning, Josh presses on, making his way into a rustic coffee shop. He stands in line, casting his eyes around the place and registering the bustle of the people packing the place to capacity, catching snippets of conversations about work, family, recent holidays, all that standard fare. He orders his drink to go, recieving it in a polystyrene cup with a plastic lid and handing over a few coins in exchange. Josh finds himself taking a liking to Birmingham. Despite the typical miserable, grey architecture of your average English city, and the densely urban surroundings, it has an odd, almost grim charm to it. He finds a seat on a bench on one of the streets, and takes it, nursing his coffee. Amongst the bustle, he notices a long-haired metalhead type nodding in his direction and gesturing at his shirt. Josh sees that the stranger's also rocking a Darkthrone shirt, and Josh returns the nod with a small grin. The guy winks and disappears into the crowds of passers-by. Josh's mind wanders far from Birmingham after this, back to Florida, back to his childhood. When Lexi was born, it was their father who'd left the workforce to care for the children, as their mother's job was the one that had brought in most of the money. Josh still remembered the days they would spend in the nearby mall as toddlers. He and his sister running around the place, ducking and weaving between strangers' legs, high on sugar from the ice-creams their father would buy them. The cheap bubblegum flavoured ones that made their tongues go blue. But no matter what, their father would just laugh at their antics and keep a watchful eye on them at all times as the siblings hyperactively ran into each and every store around, eyes darting across shelves before they immediately got bored and moved onto the next storefront. It was almost uncanny, the way that their father would always manage to keep up with them somehow. The budding, active imaginations of the young Lexi and Josh had determined it was because their father had some kind of special dad-themed superpowers that allowed him to always know where they were, what they were doing, when they were lying. Those things that somehow always seemed so impossible to them at the time. Josh's favourite thing about that mall was one year when they had a large animatronic T-Rex installed. The thing would jerkily sweep its head and let out a tinny, mechanical roar every few minutes. Josh would always try to roar back in some vain attempt to scare it in return. Really, it was a rather cheap piece of kit, but to Josh, it was everything. He'd always loved dinosaurs. Fearsome, dominant hunters of their world, perfectly evolved to serve their purposes. Now, as that childish sense of wonder at the world had long-since worn off, he'd realised that those magnificent, mysterious, extinct creatures little more than dumb, oversized lizards that lumbered around with no understanding of the world around them. The other thing he'd always been fascinated by was the pock-marked, craggy, almost leathery skin of his father's face. It had made him look battle-worn, but strong and stoic. As Josh had grown up, almost completely alone except for his sister, he'd come to learn just how battle-weary his father really had been as he started to fight those same inner demons himself. And he'd learned shortly afterwards just what a hard battle to sustain that was, began to understand the strength it had taken his father to make it as far as he had. Every single day recently, Josh had increasingly seen that same quality start to etch itself into his face like a sculptor into stone.
