update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/motes/008.md

@@ -118,7 +118,7 @@ Dry Grass nodded.
 
 Dry Grass blinked, then burst out in laughter, laughing until once more the tears flowed down her cheeks, holding herself still on her swing with feet planted firmly on the ground.
 
-Beholden waited in silence. She knew well the mechanics of a hysterical laugh-cry, and while her and Dry Grass's relationship did not include a whole lot of hugging, she still nudged herself to the side far enough to rub at her cocladist's shoulder until the tears once more slowed and she was once more able to breathe but for a few few aftershocks of chuckling.
+Beholden waited in silence. She knew well the mechanics of a hysterical laugh-cry — she had at one point recorded A Finger Pointing falling into such and chopped it into little slivers of half-recognizable samples and haunted an entire album with it, so beautiful had she found it — and while her and Dry Grass's relationship did not include a whole lot of hugging, she still nudged herself to the side far enough to rub at her cocladist's shoulder until the tears once more slowed and she was once more able to breathe but for a few few aftershocks of chuckling.
 
 "Sorry, Beholden," Dry Grass said, once she was able. "I am a little fucked up still, I think."
 
@@ -154,7 +154,7 @@ Still, she managed to clean her plate, managed to straighten herself up for the
 
 She tamped down her emotions throughout, press-fit them into place within her so that they would not spill over into the world around her, bottled them up, wrote a label on the jar, and set it on a shelf high in her mind to deal with later, right next to all of the other jars about which she had promised the same.
 
-She had to, at least for now, at least for the time being. She would need to reckon with the person that she had built herself up into. She would need to deal with all of the compromises that she had made in order to be Beholden.
+She had to, at least for now, at least for the time being. She would need to reckon with the person that she had built herself up into. She would need to deal with all of the compromises that she had made in order to be Beholden. She was Beholden To The Heat Of The Lamps, sound and music director for the troupe. She was lead sound tech. This was the cost of engaging so closely with what had once been her dearest friend's specialty. This was the price she paid for being Au Lieu Du Rêve's very own AwDae. It was her fragility, and the only way she knew to reinforce herself was through setting such emotions aside. She would need to confront that, but not just yet, not with so much before her.
 
 And so, when A Finger Pointing stood, wobbled, and requested that she take her home, Beholden had been immediately ready to stand up and gently guide her partner from the library and back to the neighborhood. She let her partner hold onto her to the extent that she was comfortable, rather than the other way around, trusting that she would take only what touch she needed lest she get yet more overwhelmed.
 
@@ -174,8 +174,3 @@ And then, exhausted by day, by the last few days, by worry over her Dot, her *d
 
 Perhaps some day she might.
 
-(( Caring for A Finger Pointing ))  
-(((( Pointillist sighs wistfully. "She has recorded me doing all sorts of things in my day-to-day as well. There is a recording of my heartfelt laughter turning to dire sobbing after a really rough day. She chopped it into little slivers of half-recognizable samples and haunted an entire album with it like the world's longest "Chihuahua or Muffin" slideshow." ))))
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-(( The origin of struggling with emotions, tamping down grief in order to work with sound, ever AwDae's thing ))
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