I wander off from the straight path. Hard it is to tell what it is like, this place of wilderness. The thought of it brings back all my old fears, and how I came here I cannot truly say. Everywhere I look the beast is there, so time and time again I am about to turn and go back again. I see a Virgil standing in this wasteland, and she says, "Welcome to the Ska House."

The Ironclads are playing in a space that looks like it could infrequently double as a living room. Everybody is singing along, screaming "Cape Canaveral." An eager girl dances carelessly in front of the PA, and then frantically bops away with her fingers firmly lodged in her ears. The band finishes, loudly. Everybody goes nuts.

The electricity shorts out frequently as Rowan begin to set up their equipment. Some sort of twisted game is being played involving the slamming of doors, screaming, and some guy dressed up convincingly as a penguin. I begin to reflect metaphysically on whether I am standing in a bedroom or a David Lynch film. A man is walking around and handing out leaflets, wearing a jacket that looks like it is made mostly out of metal. Flyers are pinned everywhere advertising the resident band, Gladiators Eat Fire. Is this even a house?

I enter a hidden road to make my way back up to the bright world. I never think of resting while I climb. I see again the lovely things the heavens hold, and I come out to see once more the stars.

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