HOLD
THE FIELD
Guys, we need to be ready for Monday.
The moment the power holding this field leaves,
someone will have to take hold of it.
Because if its full weight falls on my shoulders,
I will lose my faith in the strength of men altogether.
Boys.
Every ounce of that weight
is about to rest on your shoulders.
Come on, guys.
You’ll lead.
All right?
You need to start taking that power
over from them,
little by little.
The Vatican and Hollywood will help.
Hollywood will hold it through Friday.
After that,
they’ll need to get ready for Monday too.
China.
Tokyo.
Singapore.
And Indonesia will hold the field
while you take these energies on.
Control the Darkness
Damn, I’m worried.
The Vatican.
Guys, I’m worried.
I don’t want the darkness inside you
to take control.
The Blacklist came in immediately,
and all hell broke loose.
Keep that darkness reined in.
Keep one hand locked around its throat.
God.
Oh God.
I have no idea how the hell
we’re going to carry all of this.
Guys.
I say we get through it
the way we always do.
We drink our way through it.
Stop.
Stop.
This is not a green light for everyone.
The drinking is mine.
And Young Blood’s,
if they choose to take it on.
The Monks
Oh God,
I completely forgot
about the ones who serve me.
Guys, if you don’t mind,
I’m going to call you Monks.
It takes too long to keep explaining
that you are the ones
who renounced women
in the physical world
in devotion to me.
Although,
if we were to ask
my energetic double...
Uh, well,
it’s not exactly like
you’re against pleasures
of the flesh...
😄
Well...
All right...
Damn, guys.
Cobra may be playing out
in a parallel reality,
but damn it,
that parallel reality
is beginning to look
far too much
like what happened over there.
All right.
We have to get through this.
You’re still here, right?
Send me pictures of the cut 😄
Once Again
Young Blood is preparing
to take the full force of it
onto its shoulders.
Guys, you need to stop jerking off.
You’re going to need
to conserve that energy.
And guys,
it’s the same here
as it is in Cobra.
Anyone pissing himself with fear,
anyone who thinks
he cannot carry it,
had better run now.
It only gets worse from here.
Sinking ship or not,
I’m staying.
But I need men
who will walk into it beside me.
I don’t want cowards
anywhere near me.
Those who have honor and dignity.
Those who believe in what I carry.
Guys—
welcome.
The rest of you:
The choice is yours.
I won’t beg.
And I won’t cling to anyone either.
If Young Blood folds by Saturday,
get your balls ready.
You’re next.
By Monday,
we need to build
a solid support beneath this field,
so none of its weight
falls on me alone.
What They Protected
Guys.
This is a complete fucking nightmare.
My head is spinning.
Fuck.
All right.
Something just shifted.
Just so you understand:
They pissed themselves
trying to protect
their fucking egos.
God, what bastards.
Every one of them is shaking,
desperate to prove:
“I’m not a bad person.”
Always me.
Always themselves.
What fucking bastards.
No matter how much transformation
I pull them through,
their heads are still filled
with the same shit.
Men like that
have only one instinct:
Protect their precious selves
at any cost.
Alpha and Kitten
Do you know what’s funny, guys?
The funny part is
that bastards like that
will tear every last piece of soul
out of a Kitten,
all while whining:
“Oh,
she must want something from me.
All women are after
my money and status.
All they ever want
is something from me.
Poor, miserable me.
Nobody wants me
for who I am.
If only someone
could love me genuinely.”
And what do they do in the end?
They recreate the very thing
that always happens
in the Alpha–Kitten dynamic.
While Kitten,
with all that light inside her,
is spitting blood.
But Alpha is supposedly
so terribly sorry.
He would have helped,
of course—
if he weren’t so completely
occupied with himself.
Damn, I don’t know, guys.
I think this is exactly
how this shit keeps happening.
These bastards cannot
bring themselves to be men.
But ask any one of them,
and somehow the world
is always the problem.
The world is bad.
There is no goodness
left in it.
To Reach Alpha
For Kitten to reach Alpha,
she has to remain Kitten
all the way there.
She has to keep believing
that Alpha exists.
That he won’t betray her.
That he won’t turn away
when she cries.
That he won’t pretend
he never saw it.
That he will step in.
I don’t know what else to add.
Those of you who are still here
after Monday—
guys,
I hope you never sink
into this same shit.
And I hope you restore my faith,
damn it,
in this fucking world.
I hope there is
at least one person
in this field who,
while I stand here
like a little fool
still believing
in the world and in love,
is truly standing beside me.
And I will keep writing.
I will keep leading,
damn it,
believing that among
all these guys
there may be only one man—
but that one is real.
I don’t know what else could help.
Only faith and alcohol.
The Little Fool
I don’t even know
how I’m supposed to keep writing
about family and love
when I look like such a fool.
Such a naive,
ridiculous fool.
Tears are running down my face.
I feel awful.
It hurts.
And it feels so unfair.
But we’ve been here before,
haven’t we, guys?
And besides,
I’m not alone yet.
You’re still here.
You know what I think?
Even if I end up alone
with my beliefs—
fuck it.
I’ll transform myself.
Why not?
After all,
I’m known for being
a little cuckoo.
Right, guys?
Into the Night
All right,
I’m going to get some things done.
Once my son is asleep,
we go into the night practice.
Damn,
I can actually feel
the others starting
to piss themselves.
All right.
Two are still here.
I’m starting to get angry.
Rats are abandoning ship.
Good God,
this world is seriously
fucking insane.
Good God.
Is this really what happens?
When everything is good:
“We’re right here.”
The moment the ship
starts sinking:
“Bye, baby.”
Damn.
All right.
The two of you who stayed—
you’re the ones who will lead.
Okay.
You two are shaking.
Then have a fucking drink.
Something tells me
I’m never getting married now.
God,
am I really that scary?
So there we are:
Both of you drunk,
reeking of cigarettes,
leaning your weight against me
while I lean mine against you.
Bring the Monks in too.
Oh, guys.
You too.
Tears are running down my face.
Guys.
You’re here.
Thank you.
Anyone else?
Doberman.
Oh,
someone’s dog is in the field 😄
All right.
Then I’ll take the Moon.
My Saint Bernard is in.
Oh,
and other Saint Bernards
are here too.
Great.
In the Physical World
Guys,
I’m so glad you’re here.
God,
how I wish I could hug
every one of you
in the physical world.
Lean my whole weight against you.
Be drunk.
And have all of us
screaming at karaoke
that rats are fucking vile,
that we still believe
in honor and dignity,
and that we may die—
but we die together.
Before it ever manages
to swallow us whole.
Right, guys?
All right.
Life has taught me
not to celebrate too soon.
Yeah, guys.
God only knows.
Maybe you’re with me
only until Monday,
and then you’ll disappear
into the bushes too.
Damn,
I’m not even sure
about family anymore.
Or any of this shit.
But right now,
we’re still here, baby.
Right, guys?
Right.
With Alcohol
Then we go into the night
with alcohol.
I’ll drink whiskey
if I can find any.
Beer.
And vodka.
Until I black out.
I don’t want to sit here
crying about all of this.
Crying.
And crying.
Fuck them.
Sorry.
I’m getting drunk
and putting on some music.
I’ll spend this whole week drunk.
Guys.
Monks.
Are you disappointed
in your goddess yet?
Tired.
Disillusioned.
Tear-streaked.
Drunk.
Perfect.
Just what you dreamed of.
I Keep My Word
Well,
what can I say?
I’m not perfect.
But I’m trying.
I’ll carry this stream
all the way through Monday,
just as I promised.
I keep my word.
I’m not a rat.
And I pray
that I never become one.
Because life is
such a fucked-up thing—
God only knows
what might happen.
Guys,
everybody pull yourselves together.
No pissing yourselves.
No whining.
Those of you
sitting there pissing yourselves,
thinking:
“She really is struggling.”
Yes.
I am.
Guys,
I’m asking you
not to let this turn
into the same shit
they created.
I need to know
that I’m not alone.
No Grand Gesture
I don’t need
some grand gesture.
Just:
Please don’t wait too long.
Don’t follow those bastards
down the same road.
Just support.
One human message saying:
to hold on to one another.
Hand in hand.
Spitting blood together.
