“The first time was experimental, you could say,” said The Plug. “The prototype formula was underdeveloped, yes, but you must understand it was an emergency… [8mins]
Hello there! Yesterday was Green Green Grasses‘ debut day! New episodes will be out every Wednesday evening until all eight episodes are done. This post is more for the benefit of people who follow my WordPress and not my social media. So here you go:
Episode 1: Why The Spider Uses Its Web to Catch Food
Enjoy! Oh, and follow MoonSpider on SoundCloud! Oh, and stay tuned every Wednesday for a new episode! Thanks, love you!
I should have written this blog post long ago. Instead, here I am, announcing a project on the day it launches. Because, you know, life. Anyway.
Do you remember Kuukua Annan from the OTC short story series? Because I remember being asked why Kuukua’s cousin, Ntiwaa, always had to be in every story somehow. Well, for all you curious minds, here’s your answer: Green Green Grasses.
As soon as I finished writing Kuukua and the Magical Markers, I knew this podcast had to fokn camon. Approximately 1 year and 4 months since the conception of the idea, it’s about to go live!
Green Green Grasses is a scripted podcast, which means it’s entirely audio, but like, dramatic in a similar way as a play on a theater stage is dramatic. It’s 8 stories of Anansesem (you probably figured that out from the name if you grew up where I grew up), coming out every Wednesday (the Sacred Day of the Ananse, which you’ll know if you’ve read Kuukua’s stories) until the episodes finish. Each episode is loosely based on a Kuukua story in consecutive order. Real ones can probably figure out which folklore characters correspond with OTC characters.
Honestly, I think my only relevant roles in the GGG project were conception and scripting. Everyone else did all the important stuff. All my friends and their friends/relatives who agreed to voice act for this thing that they didn’t even fully understand yet, but somehow still killed their respective roles! My best friend, Tronomie, who, despite demonic afflictions, spent ages compiling, putting thought into audio effects, and mixing until he was probably sick of hearing everyone’s voices! I mean, I’d have gone mad if I’d had to play every line fifteen times just to get one thing right. Speaking of collaboration, GGG is being released under MoonSpider Productions, which is made up of literally two people: myself and Tronomie. OTC is an Akotowaa project, but GGG is a MoonSpider project. Does that make sense? It’s fine if it doesn’t, LOL.
Anyway, I’ve typed a lot. Watch the videos in my social media announcements, LOL. 🙂
Episode 1, Why the Spider Uses Its Web to Catch Food, comes out TODAY at 5.30pm GMT. [Update: Since I know many of you probably think it’s too much work to go and find our SoundCloud via another post, here’s the link. Yes, it’s out.]
I am not the same person all the time. Both of us are mad, but only one of us is ungovernable.
One version of me looks on at the other; the latter can’t stop crying. Her thoughts are singularly focused on her tool of choice, which is only a few feet away. She wants to reach for it, but she is paralyzed. The paralysis is the only barrier.
There is too much pain, and no evidence of it outside of her mind. Ink is not heavy enough to paint its picture. Her wrists are not graceful enough to navigate its contours.
But the slices would not be swift. They would be jagged and unclean, just like every attempt at art she has ever made. She hopes blood will tell a better story than her unpolished words ever could, but even if it does not, the disappointment would not be hers to bear.
I am not the same person all the time. When the tears turn into crusty streaks on my face, I sit in silence and solemn wonder. I can’t believe you were ready to go. I don’t know that I am ready to go, but I do know that I am more numb than desperate. I am more depressed than insane. She is fearless in a way I am not.
I trace my thumb along the pen, so light and breakable, wondering how this object can support the weight of my heavy breathing. Just to experiment, I squeeze my fingers tightly together. As I expected, it bends.
When my other self returns, I may not be there. (Terror sounds like a woman I should know, but I have forgotten everything about her, other than her name.) The scars on my forearm are slowly vanishing, like the division between one self and the other. Healing does not always happen in only one direction, and I may soon be the same person all the time.