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<div class="title">Fragile State</div>
<div class="title"><img src="images/manuscript.gif" alt="a black binder of typed pages is thumbed through on a pink and white quilt by a person with pale skin, chipped fingernail polish, and a blue shirt in an animated gif" width="400" height="711"/></div>
<center>i want to [[read]]
i want to [[listen]]
i don't like being told [[what to do]]
<div class="poetry">***
by Taylor Roseweeds</div></center>The author emerges to tell you, "//Fragile State// contains content related to sexual violence, police brutality, the medical-industrial system, white supremacist systems and individual actors within them, mental illness, and self-harm. Please take care when reading."
<<timed 10s>>I don't think it's [[a good idea]] for me to read something like that right now.
Thanks for the heads up. Can I [[read now |Fragile State]]?<</timed>>
<<audio soundcheck stop>><<audio phone stop>>A reminder to //turn on your sound// or find your favorite headphones.
Choose your path by clicking on the differently colored links, but be patient as not all choices load at the same time.
[[sound check|Sound Check]]
start at [[the beginning]]
pick up the phone and start with [[a memory]]
[[leave,|Leave]] come back again someday ME NEITHER!
That's actually a symptom of PTSD, to not want to be told what to do.
If you don't want to interact with a story that might trigger you, especially if you have experiences involving the medical-industrial system, sexual assault, or police brutality, it may be [[a good idea]] for you to engage with this some other time, or not at all. <3
For real, though. There are limited, yet vast options for participating with this work.
<center><<timed 15s>>I'd love for you to choose:<</timed>>
<<timed 8s>>[[I want to read |read]]
[[I want to listen |listen]]
[[I want to get out of here |Leave]]<</timed>></center>
It's good to have boundaries.
You receive five gold stars for caring for yourself!
<span class="gold"><marquee>* * * * *</marquee></span>
<<timed 6s>>If you prefer something more cathartic, I offer you a poem from the book.<</timed>>
<<timed 7s>>take the [[poem]]
[[reject |Leave]] the poem<</timed>>**27 sep 2020**
pumpkin patch in the time of coronavirus
pumpkin donut line people-watching
at the edge of civil war
another toby keith song about nothing plays loud
riding boots, long sweaters, meticulously loose curls
announce it is, indeed, christian girl autumn
feels off like
>wrong to be here or
>everyone here is wrong
feels sinister not just
>how some people wear their mask a certain way or
>how some masks say trump 2020 on them
but also like
//wasn’t this more wholesome before?//
the guy in line wearing a t shirt that says
stand for the flag, kneel at the cross
is mouthing along to save a horse, ride a cowboy
until he sees that we are singing it too,
sloshing coffee everywhere,
two girls on a haybale sharing a fritter
in a way that seems somehow impure
i wink at him but he has already looked [[away |Leave]].
The following is a non-linear, nearly-factual account of my experiences with chronic illness, paranoia, complex trauma, vengeance, healing, power fantasy, death, exorcism, pop music and prophecy as an activist-writer living through the Trump years. The story—set against the backdrop of a mid-sized city (that might just be a cursed portal to the underworld) with a legacy equal parts radioactive pollution and white supremacy—is a witch hunt, a dark comedy, a sad poem, and a cautionary tale.
<<timed 10s>>Now that you're in my office/spare room/mind, you might as well take a look around.<</timed>>
<<timed 12s>>A 1980's Brother word processor sits on the desk with a finished [[letter|the letter]] inside.<</timed>>
<<timed 14s>>On the bed near the desk, a sketchbook sized [[journal|the journal]] sits open with hand-scrawled text visible.<</timed>>
<<audio phone stop>>"//Fragile State// contains content related to sexual violence, police brutality, the medical-industrial system, white supremacist systems and individual actors within them, mental illness, and self-harm. Please take care when reading."
I don't think it's [[a good idea]] for me to listen something like that right now.
Thanks for the heads up. I want to [[listen on |listenstart]].<<audio intro stop>>
<<audio phone play loop>>
It's<div class="disappear">hard to remember</div>the day you went to the hospital.
Your friends remember.
[[Liz]] is a friend, mentor, and colleague in your social justice work. She was at the coffeeshop working on the Big Day.
[[Mark]] works at the coffeeshop and on the Big Day, he was your roommate. He is a dear friend and a wonderful poet.
[[Fitz]] is Mark's partner, so they sometimes lived with you, too. They are a dear friend, poet, witch.
[[Go back |listen]]<<audio phone stop>>
All good things come to an end.
Sending love through cyberspace,
TRW
[[go back to the start |START]]
<a href="https://www.roseweeds.com/" target="_blank">go to my website</a>
<<audio soundcheck play loop>><<audio phone stop>>
Ok, ready to [[listen]]Dear Hunter,
>I suppose when Trump came on the scene is when I really started thinking about you in earnest again. There are some dedicated and odd people working in journalism today, but no heir apparent. I certainly don’t propose to be that heir myself. Recent events have, however, caused me to conceptualize what I call a “yin gonzo” approach. Yin as in interiority, cold, wetness, the moon, the negative principle, the so-called dark and traditionally feminine. What would it look like to apply that to your style of work—participatory, chaotic, brutally honest while also uncoupled from notions of objectivity? Working toward this has led, as it did for you, through the field of madness. We’ll get there, but I imagine you reading and finding yourself stuck on that first line, wondering what I could have to tell you about Trump and why a sleazy real estate turned reality TV scam artist would so affect my consciousness.
<<timed 16s>>><br>There’s too much to say here and I think that whatever you’d guess to fill in the gaps I’ll leave in the telling of history would be, at least spiritually, accurate. In short, we weathered the last of the Bush years. I never blamed you for checking out when you did after the 2004 re-election. I was only a kid when that happened and I could barely stomach it then. Dubya’s time culminated in a huge market crash and the election of a charismatic and historic first Black president, Barack Obama. The so-called War on Terror is still going on in some form and now they have robots with bombs, go figure. There were some rumblings against Wall Street after Obama bailed out the banks, but capitalism continues to consolidate its power and reign. The backlash to electing a Black president dredged up the mean, white underbelly of the nation like never before. Those dynamics have catalyzed a racial reckoning of mass proportions that is still unfolding.<</timed>>
<<timed 32s>><br>I’ll pick up a decade after your ashes got shot out of that fist-shaped cannon and like I said, you can use your imagination on the rest. Before we get into that, I can introduce myself as well. When you died, I was 15 and not yet a journalist, or an activist, or a witch, or mad, or sick, or much of anything but a kid. I’m from Idaho and Washington, born in Spokane, a borderland between the two politically and culturally. Not quite Seattle and not quite Ruby Ridge, if that makes sense. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Maybe you remember the Aryan Nations compound being nearby. Anyway, by the time we pick up here, I have been a college dropout barista slash writer slash community activist slash radio show host for some years. In 2015, I’d just quit a gig at the local alt-weekly where I wrote a monthly op-ed for the print edition and a weekly blog on- line. I was sick of the dynamic of op-ed, sick of the town and the way it’s run by a generational white male mediocrity, and unconvinced that anything I say is going to change anyone’s mind.<</timed>>
<<timed 48s>>><br>//Plus, my friend said the headshot the paper chose had a “smug feminist” face and he wasn’t wrong and I never got over it. I didn’t want to be a smug, correct, white feminist lady telling people which opinions to have. Without the photo, would the comment section be so vicious, my email inbox so filled with hate?//<</timed>>
<<timed 52s>>><br>Since your death, the internet has created these new ways of responding to writers and amplifying our opinions and arguments. The thing called social media that was barely emerging when you died is how most news happens now, in streams and feeds that never turn off. It’s a dream and a nightmare; you’ll pick it up as we go along. As a result of this, by 2015, I could see curiosity atrophying in myself and the culture at large, opinion crystallizing into hard chunks thwacking against each other like GI Joes in battle. I started to revisit your legacy then, thinking about what kind of chaotic shit you’d be getting up to in this prescriptive landscape.
><br>I wanted, in kinship with you, to shake people by the shoulders and try to solve some goddamn problems. Hence my travel between participant and observer—yin gonzo-like. I was earnest, too earnest, in my belief that we could have a better world and maybe that’s how I got into all this. So now, I want to tell you about how Donald Trump—yes, the one you’re thinking of—became the country’s second TV president, how the nation lost its mind, how I ended up institutionalized, near-death, black-bagged and back again as a result of all this, and how the circle now keeps spinning. 2021 isn’t a year I ever thought I’d see. It sounds so futuristic.<</timed>>
<<timed 79s>>>
<br>And I’ve gotta tell you, brother, on some level, you ain’t missing much.
<br>—T<</timed>>
<<timed 85s>>[[Read on |Part One]]<</timed>>//This section is not fully developed but a couple of ideas brew below.//
<center>
nov 27, 2017:
<a data-passage="nov 27" class="link-internal link-image">
<img src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lM3BCKDICYI/Vy4NcH0kj5I/AAAAAAAAD1M/NCJ8unRhBScsAQ5lcbO5eElkH9jnNsKZACLcB/s1600/scribble.gif" style="max-height: 400px"></a>
</center>
[[turn the page|nov 28]]
[[flip forward|map]]
[[close the journal|Part One]]<div class="title">PART I: 2017</div>
<center>//“There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment.”// <br>—Hunter S. Thompson
[[next|end test]]</center>Copy-paste into your browser
//(only while hosted on Twine in beta experiment mode)//
**www.roseweeds.com**
[[back |Leave]]<<audio phone stop>>
<<audio intro play>>
Author's Note:
<span id="one">The following is a non-linear, nearly factual account of my experiences with chronic illness, paranoia, complex trauma, vengeance, healing, power fantasy, death, exorcism, pop music, and prophecy as an activist-writer living through the Trump years.</span>
<<timed 16s>><<replace "#one">><span id="two">The story—set against the backdrop of a mid-sized city (that might just be a cursed portal to the underworld) with a legacy equal parts radioactive pollution and white supremacy—is a witch hunt, a dark comedy, a sad poem, and a cautionary tale.</span><</replace>><</timed>>
<<timed 32s>><<replace "#two">><span id="three">I have used a variety of sources to document these years: my own memories, through my journals and other writing; [[interviews with friends and family|a memory]] who supplement my memories about these events; official records from various institutions;</span> <</replace>><</timed>>
<<timed 45s>>
and letters written to the late Hunter S. Thompson (who had the pleasure of missing out on the Trump years in death) which fill in the historical context of the personal events chronicled—these were typed on a [[loud and impractical Brother word processor|letter-listen]] from a time between the typewriter and the PC, but have been digitized here— their factual claims are cited in the end notes.<</timed>>
<<timed 64s>><span id="five">
Supplemental information and ideas unearthed in conversations or in other research which couldn’t fit elsewhere appear between chapters as short essays. Concerned as it is with time, memory, disassociation and fracture, it does not matter where you begin.</span> <</timed>>
<<timed 79s>><span id="six">
The entire text contains content related to sexual violence, police brutality, the medical-industrial system, white supremacist systems and individual actors within them, mental illness, and self-harm. Please take care when reading. <3</span> <</timed>>
<<timed 92s>><<replace "#five">> [[back |listen]]<</replace>><</timed>>
<<timed 92s>><<replace "#six">> [[i changed my mind about listening|a good idea]]<</replace>><</timed>><<cacheaudio "soundcheck" "audio/soundcheck.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "letter" "audio/letter.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "intro" "audio/intro.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "phone" "audio/phone.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "liz1" "audio/liz1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "liz2" "audio/liz2.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "liz3" "audio/liz3.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "liz4" "audio/liz4.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "fitz1" "audio/fitz1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "fitz2" "audio/fitz2.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "fitz3" "audio/fitz3.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "fitz4" "audio/fitz4.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "mark1" "audio/mark1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "mark2" "audio/mark2.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "mark3" "audio/mark3.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "mark4" "audio/mark4.mp3">><<audio phone stop>>
<<audio liz1 play>>
<<timed 35s t8n>> oh, dear.<</timed>>
<<timed 45s>>[[then what happened?|Liz 2]]<</timed>>
<<timed 47s>>what does [[fitz remember?|Fitz]]<</timed>>
<<timed 49s>>what does [[mark remember?|Mark]]<</timed>>
<<audio phone stop>>
<<audio mark1 play>>
<<timed 5s t8n>> "we"=mark+fitz<</timed>>
<<timed 34s>>[[what happened at work?|Mark 2]]<</timed>>
<<timed 36s>>what about [[fitz?|Fitz]]<</timed>>
<<timed 37s>>what does [[liz remember?|Liz 2]]<</timed>>
<<audio phone stop>>
<<audio fitz1 play>>
<<timed 27s>>does [[Liz remember|Liz 2]] that?<</timed>>
<<timed 34s>>[[then what happened?|Fitz 2]]<</timed>>
<<timed 36s>>what does [[mark remember?|Mark 2]]<</timed>>
<<audio liz2 play>>
<<timed 18s t8n>> "ridiculous situation"=trump administration nov 2017<</timed>>
<<timed 38s>>[[what message?|Liz]]<</timed>>
<<timed 50s>>did liz [[take you to mom's?|Liz 3]]<</timed>>
<<timed 52s>>does [[fitz remember|Fitz 2]] this?<</timed>>
<<timed 53s>>does [[mark?|Mark 2]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio mark2 play>>
<<timed 32s>>[[then what happened?|Mark 3]]<</timed>>
<<timed 34s>>does [[fitz remember|Fitz 2]] this?<</timed>>
<<timed 36s>>what does [[liz remember?|Liz 2]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio fitz2 play>>
<<timed 11s t8n>> barefoot, november, downtown<</timed>>
<<timed 33s>>[[then what happened?|Fitz 3]]<</timed>>
<<timed 37s>>what did [[liz do?|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 39s>>what did [[mark do?|Mark 3]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio liz3 play>>
<<timed 8s t8n>>(about a mile)<</timed>>
<<timed 38s t8n>>(about 27F, november)<</timed>>
<<timed 62s>>[[then what happened?|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 65s>>fitz [[remembers being here|Fitz 2]].<</timed>>
<<timed 67s>>what does [[mark remember?|Mark 3]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio mark3 play>>
<<timed 29s>>(about 3 city blocks to the river)<</timed>>
<<timed 55s>>[[then what happened?|Mark 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 57s>>does fitz [[remember the chase?|Fitz 3]]<</timed>>
<<timed 58s>>does [[liz remember?|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio fitz3 play>>
<<timed 19s>>[[why did i trust mark more?|Fitz 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 21s>>does mark [[remember the chase?|Mark 3]]<</timed>>
<<timed 23s>>does [[liz remember?|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio liz4 play>>
<<timed 49s>>[[hang up the phone|a memory]]<</timed>>
<<timed 51s>>fitz remembers [[who i trusted|Fitz 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 53s>>mark remembers [[asking for help|Mark 4]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio mark4 play>>
<<timed 2s>>"ryan"=my sister<</timed>>
<<timed 15s>>[[hang up the phone|a memory]]<</timed>>
<<timed 17s>>fitz [[remembers the car|Fitz 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 19s>>liz [[remembers the call|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio fitz4 play>>
<<timed 38s>>[[hang up the phone|a memory]]<</timed>>
<<timed 40s>>[[who can you call?|Mark 4]]<</timed>>
<<timed 42s>>[[when you can't call the cops?|Liz 4]]<</timed>>
<div class="normal"><<back "back">></div><<audio intro stop>>
<<audio phone stop>>
<<audio letter play>>
[[back|listen]]
Thanks for playing/reading this prototype of a someday (maybe) fuller project. If you're interested in the full, traditional manuscript, you can<a href="mailto:taylor@roseweeds.com"> send me a message.</a>
go back to [[the reading room|Fragile State]]
go back to [[the start|START]]
go [[somewhere else entirely|Leave]]
27.nov.2017
things are starting to get weird...
//later, the full text will be here, and i'd like to make it appear, disappear, glitch, and contain sound.//
[[turn the page|nov 28]]
[[flip forward|map]]
[[close the journal|Part One]]28.nov.2017
things get even weirder and i am starting to deteriorate.
//i'd like to include images as well in these, learning better ways to layer them, include pop-ups, etc.//
[[turn the page|map]]
[[close the journal|Part One]]30.nov.2017
the page contains a detailed treasure map, and when you move your mouse across it, information is revealed.
<center><img src="images/map.png" usemap="#image_map">
<map name="image_map">
<area alt="that's weird..." title="that's weird..." href="https://www.wikihow.com/Determine-Directions-to-North,-South,-East,-and-West" target="blank" coords="142,100,51" shape="circle">
<area alt="my house, then..." title="my house, then..." href="" coords="552,192,569,211" shape="rect">
<area alt="the spokane river...below the falls" title="the spokane river...below the falls" href="" coords="328,165,62" shape="circle">
<area alt="the spokane river falls, the bridge above..." title="the spokane river falls, the bridge above..." href="" coords="488,458,28" shape="circle">
<area alt="i don’t need sleep anymore and it’s no time for sleep. i change my clothes, with lots of layers. i pack a bag, not knowing what i will need once i get out and not knowing where i will go, trusting that the network has a plan for me. i pack wigs and hats and all of the horcruxes i have gathered so far. books with clues that still need unraveling, my locket for my four great-grandmothers, i am ready to change disguises if need be. i wear my fur lined slippers because it is cold out." title="i don’t need sleep anymore and it’s no time for sleep. i change my clothes, with lots of layers. i pack a bag, not knowing what i will need once i get out and not knowing where i will go, trusting that the network has a plan for me. i pack wigs and hats and all of the horcruxes i have gathered so far. books with clues that still need unraveling, my locket for my four great-grandmothers, i am ready to change disguises if need be. i wear my fur lined slippers because it is cold out." href="" coords="556,212,584,258" shape="rect">
<area alt="i walk south in sunglasses and a hat with my big straw bag of just in case." title="i walk south in sunglasses and a hat with my big straw bag of just in case." href="" coords="436,252,575,268" shape="rect">
<area alt="as i turn on bridge at the border to kendall, i start to think i’ve miscalcu- lated. i see two suvs with tinted windows. shit, they already have eyes on me. i ditch my hat in the bushes by the road, change jackets, don a new hat, put my hair up under it and keep moving. this neighborhood isn’t safe, and that means that my workplace has already been compromised." title="as i turn on bridge at the border to kendall, i start to think i’ve miscalcu- lated. i see two suvs with tinted windows. shit, they already have eyes on me. i ditch my hat in the bushes by the road, change jackets, don a new hat, put my hair up under it and keep moving. this neighborhood isn’t safe, and that means that my workplace has already been compromised." href="" coords="458,268,485,411" shape="rect">
<area alt=". i don’t want to look at the big falls from monroe so i take post, the smaller bridge and i’m getting scared by now. i tear up the book of poetry and throw it off the bridge in chunks into the river. it has to be destroyed. there has to be no evidence of me or any of this left that could be translated by them later. i throw my ring and my locket in too." title=". i don’t want to look at the big falls from monroe so i take post, the smaller bridge and i’m getting scared by now. i tear up the book of poetry and throw it off the bridge in chunks into the river. it has to be destroyed. there has to be no evidence of me or any of this left that could be translated by them later. i throw my ring and my locket in too." href="" coords="505,473,540,510" shape="rect">
<area alt="i head into the back doors of the mall, a shortcut to main street. as soon as i come in i know its a dangerous choice. this place is crawling with eyes. it’s christmas, their time, they put up the tree and this is the first week of santa being here. its all a fucking scam. they only ever wanted one thing from me and suddenly i find that hilarious. now that i know it, they can’t touch me anymore. i see a security guard coming and i know i have to bail. " title="i head into the back doors of the mall, a shortcut to main street. as soon as i come in i know its a dangerous choice. this place is crawling with eyes. it’s christmas, their time, they put up the tree and this is the first week of santa being here. its all a fucking scam. they only ever wanted one thing from me and suddenly i find that hilarious. now that i know it, they can’t touch me anymore. i see a security guard coming and i know i have to bail. " href="" coords="410,471,472,521" shape="rect">
<area alt="i go to the community building and shar is there and i ask if liz is around and she sends me across the street to boots. liz and mark and fitz are waiting there for me, as planned. but then they ask too many questions. i can see it. fitz and liz, silver. and sil- ver has double crossed us. they are trying to capture me and control me, it was all a trap and it is closing in" title="i go to the community building and shar is there and i ask if liz is around and she sends me across the street to boots. liz and mark and fitz are waiting there for me, as planned. but then they ask too many questions. i can see it. fitz and liz, silver. and sil- ver has double crossed us. they are trying to capture me and control me, it was all a trap and it is closing in" href="" coords="411,528,452,694" shape="rect">
<area alt="i leave and they follow me back toward the park. they try to get me to go somewhere and i run, yelling and trying to find madeline, that’s who i should have been asking for help, we should have been singing this whole time. mark is the only one fast enough to catch me and i get tired running. liz is sneaking around on her phone. a fire truck comes and they want to get me too. the man says i have to go with them or go with him and of course i choose the people i know because i know i can get away from them easier than these big men strangers." title="i leave and they follow me back toward the park. they try to get me to go somewhere and i run, yelling and trying to find madeline, that’s who i should have been asking for help, we should have been singing this whole time. mark is the only one fast enough to catch me and i get tired running. liz is sneaking around on her phone. a fire truck comes and they want to get me too. the man says i have to go with them or go with him and of course i choose the people i know because i know i can get away from them easier than these big men strangers." href="" coords="455,615,549,711" shape="rect">
<area alt="i don’t want to sit in the back of liz’s car i want to sit in the front but they make me sit in back with fitz. they’re tak- ing me somewhere and i don’t like it but the show must go on." title="i don’t want to sit in the back of liz’s car i want to sit in the front but they make me sit in back with fitz. they’re tak- ing me somewhere and i don’t like it but the show must go on." href="" coords="396,683,443,723" shape="rect">
<area alt="they take me to the hospital and i still think about ditching them but decide to embrace my fate." title="they take me to the hospital and i still think about ditching them but decide to embrace my fate." href="" coords="17,705,377,752" shape="rect">
</map></center>
[[close the journal|Part One]]