"What I love about him, and love playing in him, is he's absolutely relentless. I've always said this. That's my favourite part of who he is, and how I played him in the pilot. He's just like a wild dog. He's relentless, and whatever he puts his mind to, he will do. The only thing that will stop him is if you kill him, because once he gets his mind to something, he will accomplish it."
"He's relentless; if he's on board with you and he's after what you're going after, I think he's a great soldier to have."
"[...]so I've put it into Murphy a little bit, that kind of chess player mentality he had. Now Murphy has that, which is cool. I'm just treating it like, yeah, the ground kind of taught Murphy how to think two steps ahead and be wary of everything."
"He's a human being, he has the capacity to feel and be anything at any given time. His compassionate side was just dormant for a long time, it was never dead though."
"That poison inside of Murphy, this aggression and anger, is definitely still there, and is just waiting for something to tip it over. It's like a little vial of poison inside of him that gets spilled and starts to infect everything.
And the thing about Murphy is that he's better when he's like that. You never see Murphy be more successful in getting what he wants than when he's the 'bad Murphy,' as people like to call him. When he has that poison inside of him – kind of like Venom in Spider-Man – he can get just about anything he wants. But it's usually not the right thing that he wants."
"He could be anything he wanted. He could be a leader. He'd be the best soldier you'd ever have – I don't mean in a fighting way, I mean someone on your team who can get the job done. If he believes in something, there's no one better. He's willing to put himself on the line, endlessly. There's no stopping what he could be. He has so much power, not physically, but he has this kind of relentlessness, this wild dog attitude that can't be stopped. But that goes for both sides. I think there's so much on both sides he could accomplish."
"I always said that Murphy's never been at more of a risk than when he fell in love with Emori. I think that if he was just always by himself, I don't think this guy would ever die. He would die at a ripe old age of like, 87, with a crap ton of battle scars on him, but somehow he would've lived. With the love in his life I think that - I think with everyone - it makes you vulnerable and it makes you weak. In a good way. There's nothing more to life than love, I truly believe in that. But it will be what kills him."
"First off, they started doing the cockroach thing because you just can't kill me. And that's fair. I can't die. However, from the very beginning of the pilot, I had already likened him to an animal. So now everyone's like "oh, cockroach, cockroach, cockroach" - no, I already had one. I already based him off an animal specifically. It was the whole reason of him, I likened him to- the way I wanted to play him, because he wasn't very important in the pilot, and I was like "I'm gonna have fun with him, I'll try to figure something out."
So I made him sort of a spitfire, you just can't - he's flinchy in his movements and the aggression comes out of the blue, and just kind of like he can't control it. So he's like a feral dog. Always my thing was he's a feral dog who had been beaten a couple too many times. And now when there are humans around him, you don't know if it’s gonna like - some of them will cower, but they'll probably just bite out, and that's what he does. He just has been- life has kicked him and kicked him and kicked him and kicked him. To the point where he's so fiery in his ways and his reactions to things, he just kind of snaps out. So I'd say like a feral dog, a very skinny, wiry feral dog that's probably mentally not doing great. That's Murphy."
"I had to think of a reason why Murphy isn't good when times should be happy — like, what's the reason he can't be happy, if things are okay? And the thing that I came up with is that he has so many issues inside of himself that he still needs to resolve — like the death of his parents, and still blaming himself for that — and maybe even a slight chemical imbalance that sometimes people can be afflicted by, in their brain chemistry. So he's better in pressure-cooker situations because there's a reason for feeling the way he's feeling; he can feel bad and feel sad and feel all these things, it's 'allowed' in situations like that. But when things are okay, Murphy is maybe too ashamed to talk about it. He can't tell people that sometimes he just can't get out of bed, that he can't do these things, that he's just not okay inside. He's too proud."
when grief chokes you & yet you are still breathing.
listen.
this is the sound of survival. every breath is the will to live. I am choosing. there is no limit to the pain this body can take. I am filled to the brim with my past & the emptiness that comes with it. I will carry it & move forward. wretched damnation— I am only human but I will become.
The hurt child will bite you. The hurt child will turn into a fearsome creature and bite you where you stand. The hurt child will grow a skin over the wound you have given it —or not given, because the wound is not a gift, a gift is accepted freely, and the child had no choice. It will grow a skin over the wound, the hoarded wound, the heirloom wound you have pried out of yourself like a bullet and implanted in its flesh— a skin a hide a pelt a scalded rind, and sharp fish teeth like a warped baby's— and it will bite you and you will cry foul as is your habit and there will be a fight because you'll take the fight out of the box labelled Fights you keep so carefully stored against emergencies, and this is one, and the hurt child will lose the fight and it will go lurching off into the suburbs, and it will cause panice in drugstores and havoc among the barbecues and they will say Help help a monster and it will get into the news and it will be hunted with dogs, and it will leave a trail of hair, fur, scales, and baby teeth, and tears from where it has been ripped by broken glass and such and it will hide in culverts in toolsheds, under shrubs, licking its wound, its rage, the rage you gave it and it will drag itself to the well the lake the stream the reservoir because it is thirsty because it is monstrous with its raging thirst which looks like spines all over it and the dogs and the hunters will find it and it will stand at bay and howl about injustices and it will be torn open and they will eat its heart and everyone will cheer, Thank god that's over! And its blood will seep into the water and you will drink it every day.
Yes I'm bleak But did I have a chance? Born to the back of her hand and A sideways glance Heaven can wait Hell needs a cook I'm a poet with a novel in his heart and You're my notebook
[...]
But is it any wonder? Is it a surprise? The death, pillage, plunder In the black of my eye Is it any wonder? Is it a surprise? That under the man that I built There's a child
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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WORDS.
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& yet you are still breathing.
listen.
this is the sound of survival.
every breath is the will to live.
I am choosing.
there is no limit to the pain this body can take.
I am filled to the brim with my past
& the emptiness that comes with it.
I will carry it & move forward.
wretched damnation—
I am only human
but I will become.
- Venetta Octavia, I Remember Again
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opens us again.
Like hair loosened by the sea,
slowly the darkness opens into darkness.
- Anne Michaels, from Land in Sight
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- Clarice Lispector, tr. by Elizabeth Lowe, from Água Viva / The Stream of Life
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Charles Bukowski, Screams From the Balcony
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- Warsan Shire, The Unbearable Weight of Staying
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crawled up and claimed me. like someone
sucked out all my marrow.
knobby-kneed child, skinny neck, wrists encircled
by too many fingers.
my bones are haunted; I know there are ghosts
in them because they are hollow. creatures hide
in hollow things.
monsters make a world of crevices.
do you know there's a bird that spends its life
sated on impaled organs? its prey thrashes
on thorns. on anything sharp.
survival is murder. even
small things need to eat.
- Natasza Stark, Butcherbird
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Can't you see it's the one word I know? Even my bones know
this language, and moan it deep in their interior.
- Rickey Laurentiis, from Lord and Chariot
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You were burned, you were about to burn, you're still on fire.
- Richard Siken, from Straw House, Straw Dog
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- Sarah Kane, from 4.48 Psychosis
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The hurt child will turn
into a fearsome creature
and bite you where you stand.
The hurt child will grow a skin
over the wound you have given it
—or not given, because the wound
is not a gift, a gift is accepted
freely, and the child had no choice.
It will grow a skin over the wound,
the hoarded wound, the heirloom wound
you have pried out of yourself like a bullet
and implanted in its flesh—
a skin a hide a pelt
a scalded rind,
and sharp fish teeth
like a warped baby's—
and it will bite you
and you will cry foul
as is your habit
and there will be a fight
because you'll take the fight out of the box
labelled Fights you keep so carefully stored
against emergencies, and this is one,
and the hurt child will lose the fight
and it will go lurching off
into the suburbs, and it will cause
panice in drugstores and havoc
among the barbecues
and they will say Help help a monster
and it will get into the news
and it will be hunted
with dogs, and it will leave a trail
of hair, fur, scales, and baby teeth, and tears
from where it has been ripped
by broken glass and such
and it will hide in culverts
in toolsheds, under shrubs,
licking its wound, its rage,
the rage you gave it
and it will drag itself to the well
the lake the stream the reservoir
because it is thirsty
because it is monstrous
with its raging thirst
which looks like spines all over it
and the dogs and the hunters will find it
and it will stand at bay
and howl about injustices
and it will be torn open
and they will eat its heart
and everyone will cheer,
Thank god that's over!
And its blood will seep into the water
and you will drink it every day.
- Margaret Atwood, The hurt child
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it's the raw cuss of history
and you win every time
and know how to hit where it hurts
with words
[...]
there is no time for
metaphor
when the rock's in your hand
no poetry in a shattered skull
no words for how hate feels
familiar as history
- Daphne Gottlieb, from Sentencing the Alphathreat
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I am not a monster in the making
when that's the name
you've already given me.
- Lydia Havens, from This is All a Museum Zine
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- Melissa Albert, The Hazel Wood
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being alone forever
or never being alone again?
- Ellen C. Bush, from "Astigmatism," Four Way Review
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- Traci Brimhall, from "Vive, Vive," published in The Missouri Review
FACES.
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SONGS
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