Hey!!! Now this is what I call a party!!! I mean, man!!! Look at the crowd!!! It's you guys again!!! WELCOME BACK!!!

Yeah, yeah: welcome to the City. No, really: you guys have been here before you know, whether you know it or not. This is about the third time I've borne personal witness to it. Hey, I know it, okay? And that's what matters.

Yup, the City. Any way you slice it, it's the City. When you are tired of the City, you are tired of life (is that true, really?).

So how are you, all of you seething masses? Or teeming masses. Either way. You're a mass amassed, that's for sure. Downright exultantly excessive in your massed masses amassed herewith. Overflowing with excess--an excess of excess today, isn't it? As though the City weren't glutted enough with its pleasures and its pains, as though its desires were as insatiable as it would have us to believe. Do I address the City? Indeed, I do. And not those within the City who are usually so addressed. No. I speak to the City itself and its devices and desires.

We have all followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.

Yes, yes. Drink up, drink up. This night thy soul may be required of thee. There is yet more. There is yet so much more.

And you've always got the Network too, y'know. That's City News, City News, All The News That You Can Use.

Oh, but I digress. I think there are friends, new and old alike, in these great teeming masses. Yes, new and old alike. Else my eyes and ears and blahblahblah whateverelse deceive me.

In any regard: yay!!! :)

[ooc: For the record, this is a text post. But all types and kinds of replies are welcomed. You know you want to :3c Come to me, ye 4^th Wall visitors. He will be all over in all kinds of ways today.]

War, ladies and gentlemen.

( [ Public || Visible to All ] )

[ooc: Cut for massive tl;dr. Is it real or is it Memorex curse-induced? Nihil dicit. This post is an anonymous text post. And I'm not really sorry for double-posting. I really wanted to do this.]

Wow! What a weekend! I think my head is still spinning.

I kind of liked being a wizard. I could live like that everyday, I think. Magic and stuff. It's a lot of fun.

But now I've got leftovers. What am I even supposed to do with all these weird symbols on these little pieces of paper? They're all over the place. I've got stacks of the stupid things.

Anybody want one? I guess it's a souvenir from this weekend. You can keep it if you want. If you don't, I guess I'll use them for confetti or something.

I don't think Larry liked being my familiar for the weekend. But Larry doesn't like anything.

Anyway--come get a symbol if you want one.

[ooc: He knows what those symbols are. He knows fully well. Please consider this my apology for being unable to do jack shit this weekend despite my best efforts. Ugh. But Fl(agg)etcher was a visiting teacher from the Salem, Massachusetts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, specializing in sigil magic (among other things). These sigils are not wholly benign. Taking one, keeping one, may allow him access. If nothing else, it'll allow him to gather magic power from your character and your character's surroundings--it's an ad hoc collection net (since he hasn't had time to set up a more complicated network...yet. So help a poor(?) wizard out and unintentionally charge his sigils for him, okay?]

[Video Post;]
[It is late evening. The recording begins, but little can be seen except the silhouettes of corn stalks and red twilight behind them. The corn stalks rustle and sway when the wind blows.

Then come footsteps, clicky-clocky, crunching along in the dirt between the rows. And by the sound of them, one has to wonder if anything will grow where those feet fall. The corn stalks glide past. Even-metered, the footsteps count out a rhythm, as they always do.

Then comes a man's voice, singing low and dark:]

...hunted like a crocodile...ravaged in the corn...

[Crunching footsteps...

Crunching footsteps...

Crunching footsteps...

The voice again, low and dark:]

"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."

[Crunching footsteps...

Crunching footsteps...

Crunching footsteps...

Then, low and dark as the singing, the song is picked up with whistling. Low and dark, low and dark. The corn stalks glide past, silhouetted against a red twilight.]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: Canon references, for those who want them. And if you would like to encounter someone who may or may not actually be He Who Walks Behind the Rows (no, really: the jury's kind of still out on this one), please feel free. Just expect creepy creeping.]

[Video Post;]
[Blink blink! Someone has his Network device balanced on his shoulder to give a good view of, well, himself--and the fronts of the stores he's walking past at th emoment. And he's bopping along down the street, keeping time with the tippity-tappity steps of the worn-out heels of his boots, and singing as he goes:]

All right already we'll all float on
Okay don't worry we'll all float on
Even if things get heavy we'll all float on
All right already we'll all float on
Don't you worry we'll all float on
All float on...

[A bright, beaming, winning, friendly smile is turned on, full-power, to the Network device. He just keeps strolling along as he talks.]

Well, hey there, everyone. Just thought I'd take these guys-- [He has a handful of knotted-together strings in his hand and he waves these strings at the camera] --out for a walk.

[Moaning and grumbling sounds come from above, on the other end of the strings.]

They've been doing that all day--wouldja believe it? They showed up last night with it and they haven't quit yet. And they've been trying to give me advice and warn me about this and that and the other thing. Yessir, it's a regular inflatable Greek chorus up there.

[More woeful moaning.]

Oh, and hey, did you know that if you stick 'em with a pin, they don't pop? [An undercurrent of laughter throughout here.] No, they don't! They just squeal and whine.

[High-pitched whining and grumbling at that comment. He shrugs.]

You can't blame a guy for trying, now, can you?

Anyway--I keep trying to get them to sing, but they won't do it. They don't seem to like doing much of anything. [He tugs on the handful strings like a petulant child and there's disgruntled moaning coming from overhead.] They just, you know, float.

And moan and whine and say my parents are disappointed in me or something--which I happen to know is not true--and a bunch of other malarkey like that.

So I figured, if I'm stuck with these whiners all day, I'll take 'em for a walk and see if it improves their dispositions at all. Doesn't seem to help, but, hey, I like taking walks so it's no skin off my nose.

[From overhead, a voice:]

She loved you. But she's dead now.

[He pauses, lets his smile fall, and then lets it spread again slowly.]

Yeah, they keep saying that too. [He shrugs.] Maybe I oughta sell them--one Red each seems about fair. [That bright smile is back again.] Whatcha think?

[Singing briefly:]

And we'll all float on...

[He winks at the camera and starts whistling the same tune he was singing before, which lasts for a bit before the video turns off in a--]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: Because we all float down here. I went there. I live there. (Not really.) Feel free to see him out and about!]

[Private to Melissa McCall || Unhackable]
Hi--

I hope you're doing well. The last couple of curses have been rough, haven't they? That one late last month in particular.

I wanted to apologize to you for anything I said or did during that curse. I mean, yes, it's a curse and they make us do all kinds of crazy stuff, but I still feel like I ought to apologize if I embarrassed you or, worse, made things difficult between you and your son. I really am sorry. My fault or not, I'm sorry.

But, you know, at the same time, you really are a remarkable person. Everything you told me, even if it was all because of a curse--I can't help but admire you. And maybe the last symptoms of the curse are still clearing up for me, but I feel like I'd like to get to know you a little better--without a curse pushing things along.

Anyway, what I'm really asking is if you'd like to go out for coffee sometime. Just as friends. Just as two people who accidentally met over some pomegranates.

If you don't want to, believe me, I completely understand. I could understand it if you never wanted to see me again.

But, if you'd like to, we can try and schedule it in between the curses.

So, anyway, let me know--because I know a great little cafe.

Thanks,
--Rory

[ooc: Yeeeeeeep. He heard a little too much at the amazing family dinner during the Stupid Cupid curse. And now he wants to know more.]

Dear Anonymous, New York, Santa Fe, Atlanta, Charlotte, Omaha, Virginia, Anxious, Neurotic, Hopeless, Helpless, Loveless, Lovelorn, Lovesick, Heartless, Hurt, Bride-to-Be, Daughter-in-Law, Mother-in-Law, Dutiful Child, Lost Child, Confused Mother, Lost Mother, Lost Father, Bewildered Father, Exhausted Parent, Grieving, Depressed, Delighted, Overpaid, Oversexed, Waiting for Mr. Right, Losing Miss Right, and Sleepless in Seattle:

You should leave your husband.

Unless you have a wife, in which case you should leave your wife.

Unless you shouldn't.

Either way, I recommend couples' therapy. And each of you should be in therapy your own selves, because advice columnists get a kick-back from the folks in the psychotherapy industry for not putting them out of business with perfect advice. Sorry, but it's true. I have bills to pay too.

If you have children, be sure to reassure them with love. If they're frightened, confused, anxious, or unhappy, reassure them with love and encourage them. Support them and guide them. Unless they need discipline, in which case it should be discipline all the way. Spare the rod, as the saying goes. If they don't come when you call, go get them. No fooling around here. They're your kids and they will do as you tell them, so help you. But don't use too much rod because then they won't know that you love them. I'm not very good at giving advice about child-rearing, generally.

Unless, of course, said children are twenty-somethings who have returned to the nest and seem unable to leave it. In which case, deliver an ultimatum that they must move out in seven days and you have a trailer already rented to haul their worldly goods to some other location which you do hope that they've already rented for themselves. If they resist, call the police and have them forcibly evicted. This is a thing that really happens.

Go to the doctor because your minor concern over some aspect of your health is probably something exceedingly serious. Unless, of course, it isn't, and you're just prone to anxiety and neuroses. In which case, see above note with regard to therapy and proceed accordingly.

To the lonely-hearts and the daydream-believers and the princes and princesses seeking each other: maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

At 5, you wanted someone who’d play with you. At 11, you had a crush on a guy’s hair. At 19, a nice butt was a bonus you felt entitled to seek out. At 26, wow, an educated, employed guy who felt the same way as you about kids? Grab him. Just bear in mind what you're doing. If you're over 30, well, you're out of most of this game. Sorry. Just go sit in the corner until you're old enough to die.

Date people, unless you don't want to. Just know that everyone's going to expect you to date people and if you don't you'll have to have some good answers for them. See my column dated 8/27/1864 for some advice on that one. Date people who are good for you and try to avoid the scumbags. But there are lots of scumbags, so you'll probably end up dating them too. So deal with that. Breakup and then makeup because, why not, you can get back with your ex because lots of people do. Unless s/he is a jerk, in which case don't get back with that person, unless you're sure you're really in love with them. Affairs happen too, so remember that. I don't give sex advice, so you'll have to go elsewhere for that. I try to stick with the emotional-torment-and-therefore-needing-therapy kinds of advice.

To brides planning weddings: get over yourselves. It's a wedding. The whole of your existence does not hinge on whether the "right" people are sitting together and whether everyone you invited gave you a present (whether they attended or not). Unless it does, in which case proceed carefully. I'm sure there are weddings like that in all these worlds. Consider the undertaking which you are undertaking and which you are asking others to undertake. This goes double for destination weddings because those things are a bitch. Asking for cash is tacky, let's just get it straight. I've got a nickle and a bloody molar I can give you. Congratulations. Otherwise, it's your wedding, so go and dance (or not, as you choose).

To wedding guests and spurned would-be attendees: get over yourselves too. It's a wedding. There will be others and the fact that you weren't included in this one only says that you weren't included in this one. Cry a river and sail down it and I'll meet you at the seashore to soothe your bruised heart. Or, if the food wasn't what you wanted, the music wasn't what you wanted, the guests weren't what you wanted, or there were too many/too few children (your choice), bear in mind that it isn't your wedding and it's only a few hours of your life, so try to endure someone else's happiness for a while. You assholes.

I can speak from experience on some of this, but only some: my wedding was unbelievably tiny, but it was happy.

Live fully because only losers don't. Don't you know this? If you're not doing it right, see the note about therapy again. Losers. That's my go-to stance, I hope you know. Jump out of planes because other people do it, but don't follow the crowd and jump of bridges because everyone does it. Obviously. You're supposed to agreeably agree to conform in a non-conformist way. Don't settle but don't have a checklist. If you hate your job, why are you whining about it? Set boundaries because nobody else in the world has them, which sucks. Be independent because you're supposed to be but be sure that you fall in love and marry because you're supposed to do that too. Get tied down and tied up and messed up and brought down and hung down and high and depressed because apparently you're supposed to do that. If you don't have any problems, then you have problems.

Fuck bitches, get money. Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I think that covers everything. If I missed you, try to apply some of the provided advice as best you can.

And good luck.

p.s.: I'm just the substitute. Both Abby and Annie are on vacation this week.

[ooc: Happy post 19! He's just busy being kind of a jerk is all, especially now that the curse has been over for a day or two. Just for lols. Just to rub it in a bit.]

[Video Post;]
[The video begins. But who is this mysterious and handsome man sitting in this spare and intentionally austere room? The walls are white and architecturally angled, the furniture is black and modern. The network device sits before him on a glass table (one can see the edge of it as it shines before the lens). He looks a little bored, this stranger. He looks a little bored, a little jaded, a little weary of the world. He wears black and white himself, and a silver ring shines on the middle finger of his right hand. He looks off to his left, towards what must be an immense window (or the light wouldn't otherwise flow into the room in such a way), idly biting at his thumb, as though in general contemplation.

After a moment, he turns towards the camera...and smiles. And what warmth, what beauty is there in that smile.]

Utsuho Reiuji. I was told--no, I was asked to ask after you.

[His face turns politely serious, but a little pompous.]

I trust you are well. What need have we with such an affinity for fire to be concerned with the heat of a day such as this?

[Such a mysterious and charming smile then.]

I should very much like to speak with you.

[He turns back to the window, then, having said all he needs to say. Almost as an afterthought, he reaches out to the Network device on the glass table and, with one slender and elegant hand, turns if off again.]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: two things of note: first, please note that this post appears on the Network as an anonymous post. This would be so much easier if Flaggface just had a second Network account, but! In lieu of that...anonymous posting. Second, Flaggface is now operating under three (four) separate identities: Rory Fletcher, Rowena Faulkenrath, and Rabmag Faustus (and, technically, "Randall Flagg" too since he's still himself). Because this is what he does. He's posting this with the shiny new Rabmag persona. Enjoy.]

[Voice Post;]
[Clicky-clicky, settling sounds. Okay, okay. There's a little chatter in the background, some voices. Ah--a familiar voice, the owner of this device (if one knows him--such as one can know him):]

You ready?

[Some agreeing sounds. Another pause... And then...]

Oooooooooh! You cursed brat! Look what you've done! I'm melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness? Oooooh, look out! I'm going! Oooooh! Ooooooh!

[It's a pity it's only audio--but it must be said that the audio imitation isn't...bad. I mean, it's as good as one might expect. The visual must be quite the remarkable pantomime show, as the nearby giggles would suggest. Perhaps he's disappearing into his own jacket and spinning into the floor behind the magic shop counter with a bend of the knee and careful timing (actually, this is what's happening, and it is a decent little pantomime trick).]

Oooooooooh...

[Silence... A giggle.]

Hey!

[Okay, jumping back up, yeah. That explains the snapping slap of footfalls.]

And that's the Network today, ain't it? Well. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen and...whatever else. Thank you. Thank you.

[Some giggling and a little applause. A little.]

All right, all right, okay. That's enough laughter at the expense of the cursed and less fortunate. I'll do a better one. Okay.

[The rattleslap zippering sound of shuffling cards.]

Here... Whoops--gonna need both hands, so--

[Click.]
[//voice post ends]

[ooc: Someone's on the Network while at work. Ooooooh! But you can't fault him. He does good Wizard of Oz jokes, right? Sure. And his timing is the best. tl;dr: he's actually hanging out doing sleight of hand and other card tricks and coin tricks and nonsense for lulz at the shop. It helps sales. Sure.]