It’s been a few days after the last show, and I’m nursing the remnants of the sort of cold you get when you work very hard for six months, you finish your work, your body says “I guess I can take a break now,” and your immune system chills out long enough to get a nice little cold. It is a victorious cold, and I wouldn’t be celebrating this righteous cold right now right now without the hard work of the fifty-plus people who helped get The Doing Drugs And Dying In Space Ritual on its feet and rockin’.
Big thanks to Platinum and everyone working at Iridium Clothing Company. The space was so perfect for the show and they were always extremely accommodating to our requests and needs. Plus their store is really cool. You should go there and buy some clothes. If you’re cool, you’ll like it. Check it out: https://iridiumclothingco.com/
Thanks also to our sponsors who provided donations for the raffle and the booze provided. Having outsider support really legitimizes a show and turns a weird little show into a REAL weird little show. Thanks to Saint Lucia’s Smoke Shop, Half Acre, Koval Distillery, Intelligencia Coffee, and Brooklyn Boulders.
Thanks to those who donated to us during our fundraising campaign. Couldn’t have done it without your kind contributions, so big thanks to Nicholas Zebrowski, Nikki DelZenero, Logan Breitbart, Olivia Lilley, Michael Reedy, John Enright, Martin Seay, and Wade Herter.
Thanks to Andrew Lehmkuhl who designed and set up the lights for a space. Huge thanks to the dude for working on a tiny budget in an unconventional theater space, and working on the fly, with minimal time, working to the actors’ and directors’ needs. We teched 12 shows in something like 10 or 11 hours and had a near flawless run-through, which was incredible.
Speaking of flawless tech, thanks to Erin Morill who ran an unconventional light board (read: three extension cables with on/off switches) while working sound cues off a laptop at the same time, and still ran a perfect tech and four perfect shows. She was an ace problem solver and a powerful presence, which is an important feature for a good stage manager. The show wouldn’t have happened without her, she deserves enormous thanks.
Thanks to all the directors who put together pieces for The Ritual. The amount of work they put into their pieces showed, and I was honored to have all involved. Thank you Vivian Ellis, Maggie Vaughn, Jennifer Hogan, Logan Breitbart, Hannah Sawicki, Sarah Patin, Frances Colleen, Cheryl Nowlin, and JD Caudill.
Thanks to the massive cast for these combined shows. It was awesome (in the old testament sense) to work with so many talented actors. It means a lot that they’d take the time to get the parts down to make this one weekend really stellar. Thank you Bill Chill, Ben Ross, Arielle Von Hippel, Nelia Miller, Steven Garcia, Ryan Wright, Roy Rainey, Marisa Coccaro, Kristen Mann, Nate Earnest, Jordy Williams, Dan Mozurkewich, Nicolas Hassebrock, Grace Palmer, Alejandro They, Shawn Morgernlander, Ross Childs, Vincent Greco, Marshall D. Kious, Roberto Caez, Alex Barnett, David Weiner, Liz Conway, Michael O’Neill, Ally Subak, Maximillian Correa, Mel Forrest, Logan Breitbart, Melinda Reyes, Kelsey Shipley, and Mario Aivazian.
Thanks also to the voice over actors in Babylon Working: Erin Morill, Blair Britt, Andrew Coulford, Ben Kaye, Nathaniel Shane, Jacob Eugene Horn, Danielle Spence, and Jason Amplo.
Thanks to the writers who donated their short plays to The Ritual. You can’t make a good show without a good script, so it was a dream to have so many pieces that took the subject matter, elevated it, and expanded it from their unique perspectives. Thank you Spenser Davis, Logan Dean, Josh Graber, Joe Goudreault, Kramer St John, John J Enright, Wyn Evans, Andrew Bentley, Francesca Pazniokas, Dan Desalva, Martin Seay, and Kathleen Rooney.
Thanks to Sarah Lo for choreographing “Distress,” and Marshall Smith (DJ FARSIGHT) for creating the underlying track from SCRATCH.
Major thanks to Janice Lim who built the set piece for “Babylon Working.” did you see that thing? It was insane! Thank you, Janice.
Thanks to all those who contributed posters. The visuals provided a wonderful context for the world each show existed in – I love them, and I love looking at them. Thanks to Meggie K, Jack Angelo, Vivian Ellis, Ryan Holton Reynolds, Mikaila Von Merre, Dominic Roselli, Patrick Joseph Rork, Jewells K Santos, Jake Pollock, and Chris Hutson.
Thanks to my mother, Barbara Reedy for going her out of her way to photograph the ruins of the D’Dyas Home Compound – it was a real thrill to get that email with those pictures. Thanks to Tom and the rest of the former acolytes for sharing wit home their stories of the D’Dyas Space Cult. Thanks to High Speaker Kramer St John for the instructions as to the structure of the ritual. I’m sorry I couldn’t make all requests transpire for this ritual – I guarantee they’ll make it in next time.
Thanks to Matthew Gregory Hollis for shooting Friday night and turning around pictures the next day. That was a huge help and it’s great to to have the show so beautifully documented.
Thanks to Alex Girsh for shooting the show on video Saturday. To get this thing fully recorded was so, so important, and it was great to have someone I knew I could trust to nail it sitting up front. I’m very excited put up the footage just as soon as we have it edited.
Thanks to production assistants Shelby Galney and Danielle Spence for taking on the odds n sods, doing the minutia that needed to get done to have a whole, good and complete piece. I’m sure sometimes the work at times felt small, but it was always a colossal help.
Thanks to Mike Davis who contributed the music that played during the preshow and intermission. It was great to have a bonafide synth nerd working out a ripping track to play under the histories of D’Dyas. It set the appropriate tone. You should all give it another listen. Here’s the track:
Thanks to Ian Benedetti for providing two of the songs used during Solar Sonata. I really love the guitar work for “Dying In Space.” And the piece wouldn’t have been as funny without “Ray No. 1.” Both tracks are included below:
Thanks to Olivia Lilley, who would give her two cents whenever I needed it. Her experience was truly valuable stuff, and we’re all looking forward to having her back in the city very soon.
Thanks to our company costume/makeup designer Mikaila for helping and always being on hand for costumes and make up. She was the one who provided me with some very essential costume pieces and was always quick to respond to all of my questions and concerns. I’m always thankful to have her good brain attached to the company. Here’s to the killer costume pieces we’ll put together for the coming season!
Finally, thanks to my co-producer and co-artistic director Maggie Vaughn. She could see everything I wasn’t anticipating, was quick to respond when I needed help, and generally made the show a more complete organized affair. The show wouldn’t have happened without her help, plain and simple. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
From Maggie: “Thanks to Gannon because he really cared about the artistic quality of this piece and organized a kickass set/surely did not sleep a lot in order to see the whole thing through. HES A GOOD NUT.”
That’s it! Show’s over! We’ll see you for the season announcement party, date to be announced SOON!
NIHIL ET AMPLIUS
(Credits roll. Fade to black.)
(Post credits: Fade in on Gannon blowing nose, closing laptop.)
GANNON: Great, that’s done forever-
(SAMULE L JACKSON enters frame)
GANNON: What- wha- what?????
SAMUEL L JACKSON: Oh, it’s not over yet. Oh no. It’s only just begun.
(Blackout. Text comes into frame:
THE DOING DRUGS AND DYING IN SPACE RITUAL WILL RETURN
The Runaways Lab Theatre has pondered the unfathomable questions presented by the universe and are proud to announce THE ANSWERS. Presenting the Doing Drugs And Dying In Space Ritual: 12 short plays about getting loaded and biting it in the eternal void.
ONE WEEKEND ONLY: MARCH 24 -27, lights up at 7pm
WHERE: Iridium Clothing Co (1330 N Milwaukee Ave)
Features short plays by: Logan Dean, Spenser Davis, Joe Goudreault, Wyn Evans, Andrew Bentley, John J. Enright, Francesca Pazniokas, Josh Graber, Dan DeSalva, Kathleen Rooney, Kramer St John, and Martin Seay.
Directed by: Maggie Vaughn, Vivian Ellis, Logan Breitbart, Frances Colleen, JD Caudill, Sarah Patin, Cheryl Nowlin, Jennifer Hogan, Olivia Lilley, Hannah Sawicki, and Gannon Reedy.
PURCHASE TICKETS HERE: https://dime.io/events/doing-drugs-and-dying-in-space-ritual
NIHIL ET AMPLIUS
From March 24th through March 27th, The Runaways Lab Theatre will be presenting The Doing Drugs And Dying In Space Ritual: a psychedelic compilation of fourteen short plays of depraved psychedelia. In honor of this momentous occasion, The Runaways is proud to present a true-life account of The D’Dyas Space Cult, its history recorded here for the first time.
Tom told me at the beginning of our interview that the time he spent with the D’Dyas space cult during the years at the Home compound was difficult for him to think about. He said that accessing those memories was traumatic, and that at best he could outline what had happened, but would refrain from details. However as we discussed the cult’s history, our conversation unraveled organically, and when the Home Compound came up, he did not hesitate to go into detail. In fact, he became so impassioned that I stopped speaking altogether and let him loose his account of this history that had caused him much turmoil. Though I’ve edited slightly for clarity and included pictures of the compound in its current state, below is a mostly word-for-word transcription of his account of the days of the D’Dyas’ Home Compound from their peak to their downfall:
(The D’Dyas Home Compound)
“The first year and a half was easy. Wonderful even, most times. We’d get up early, get out of our tents, set around the center campfire and eat breakfast. At first it was mostly canned provisions, but a few months in Gabrielle, one of the acolytes, drove into town and bought some chickens, and the twins built a coop. The twins were two brothers, not actually twins, both had grown up on a ranch, like me, so between them and me and a few others, we were pretty handy, handling the nitty gritty of living in relative comfort on the compound. It’s how I learned how to take care of myself they way I do now, out on the Home compound.
By midday we’d go to Ritual, taking LSD or what-have-you. At first it took place at a clearing nearby where High Speaker Golbotti set his camp, then eventually we built a cabin to have it in. He kept to himself to elevate his thought. Kramer also camped pretty close to Golbotti at first, though they kept good away from each other in the morning, they liked to keep to themselves the start of the day. The Rituals became less hallucinogenic experiments and more spiritual, structured affairs. Where before Golbotti would guide us through our experience with his thoughts on life or philosophical tenets, now all of these ideas were presented as foundational concepts of D’Dyas.
The rituals themselves even had structure now, with all of us dropping the tabs at the same time, Kramer banging a gong after each of Golbotti statements, and the rituals would end with a call and repeat of ‘Nihil Et Amplius.’ He told us what it meant, ‘there is nothing and there is more.’
Golbotti started referring to D’Dyas as a ‘space cult.’ I think it started as a joke, because we all knew people must think we were very odd, the strange organization of the group. So he called us a space cult, because we were aware of our outsider thinking and we embraced it because we knew it was going to lead to something bigger.
It was like we were building something with our thoughts with these rituals and these meditations. We didn’t know what we were building, but we were sure all of our thoughts were breaking the human pattern of thought and advancing it. Golbotti would often speak of the need to expand thought from an X and Y plane to a three dimensional plane, saying his excursions had taken him to a mindset where he could conceive of any concept in five dimensions. He told us that these Rituals were shifting our frame of thought, shifting our mode of human thought, and through this work, we would psychically manifest The Prophet, a coming of power that would bring us to realms of perception.
We’d eat dinner at the end of the day, sometimes eggs from the coop, sometimes venison, mostly cans of soup. At that point of the night, I’d drop another tab and try to stay up as long as I could, talking to any of the other acolytes but anything. Some nights I’d only get 2-3 hours of sleep but the next day I felt like I’d slept for days, I felt great.
By the end of the first year, the we’d built the two cabins, one for eating and sleeping, one for the daily rituals. In two years, we had a well out front and didn’t have to walk all the way up the hill for water. We lived a very spiritual, intellectually intimate experience those first two years. Not everyday was a sunny day – literally, the roof leaked. But we were so united in spiritual thought, it all felt pure.
In the power structure there was Golbotti at the top as high speaker, Kramer as speaker and then all of us as acolytes. They started holding a special ritual for every moon cycle to decide who would become a speaker. We would convene late at night. To become a speaker you were volunteered by one of your fellow acolytes. Once all the potential speakers were chosen, we’d walk with torches over the hills and through a rough path through the woods to a small lake on the other side. Kramer then would give each of the acolytes this LSD he called “Roadkill.” It was mean stuff, probably mixed with something else, very synthetic. Each of the prospectives would take a massive dose, and the acolytes would leave them there. They’d come back the next morning and the potentials would tell them what they saw.
I was one of the first to take the challenge, it was the third or fourth ritual of this kind. I was there by the lake with Lawrence, Michael, Gabrielle, and Noodles*. I sat by the lake and looked out. I didn’t hallucinate, I just had this horrible clawing feeling come up inside of me. Totally hopeless, fearful, like I was being gutted by my own overwhelming black thought. Is was different than that early ‘will I be high forever’ feeling, it was taking my real fears and laying it all out in my body. The others were losing their minds, I think trying to harness the energy the drug gave them, but I sat on the beach and looked out at the lake, though I couldn’t see anything because it was so dark.
When they came back in the morning, they asked each of us what we saw. After I told them, Golbotti came close to me and put his hand on my shoulder and smiled, very caring, very fatherly. He told me that I’d felt the prophet. That phrase meant I was to be a speaker. I was ecstatic.
About two years in Kramer tells us we’ve run out of money, we’re broke. The cans of beans and soup had run out by then. And Kramer broke the gong got dented beyond repair because he was hitting it with a hammer. This was a really expensive gong he’d ripped off from some eastern spiritualist during his days traveling up the coast. So Kramer was furious. Now during moments of the ritual when he’d previously hit the gong, he would smash plates or cups instead. Eventually we ran out of plates, bowls, and cups, so the twins tried to fashion some plates out of wood. But they were terrible, really terrible. We barely had any food to eat in those days, but when I did I swallowed plenty of splinters, I’ll tell you that.
Golbotti was strictly celibate but he gave an all clear to Kramer to incorporate sex magic in the ritual. So now we were performing various sexual acts during these hallucinations, always concentrating on our collective thinking. These rituals were no longer explorations, now they were work, we were actively trying to rewire our brains and find something on the other end. People would speak in tongues, Larry passed out from smashing his head into the wall. And we were all very hungry. One day I just lost my mind and got on all fours and just ate the grass. Things were desperate, though I am suspicious now that food was being hoarded by Golbotti and Kramer to put us in a greater position of need.
Every month, Golbotti would drive into town and buy what little food we could afford and what little LSD he could find. Around this time, maybe because supply was running low, maybe because he was bored, he started bringing back a more diverse selection of drugs. He brought in marijuana, which was harmless, but he also started bringing in speed, which at first was pretty thrilling, but then started making folks very agitated. He even brought heroin one time, but stopped because Golbotti banned it after testing the supply. I asked Golbotti what his problem with heroin was and he told me, ‘Altogether too much pleasure.’ Which I thought was strange because he did nothing to ban the speed that was causing some serious turmoil among the others.
Golbotti never got over his wife and daughter leaving him. He started to take a less active role, giving room for Kramer to have more control. The daily rituals became less intellectual and more hedonistic and violent. Kramer started beginning the rituals with him calling forward acolytes and speakers he had felt like had slighted him and fighting them in front of everyone. It was never pleasant to watch. Imagine this: Kramer was always stripped down to his very tight underwear, and he’d be up at the front of the ritual hall absolutely pummeling this person he felt like had wronged him – male, female, it didn’t give him one moment of pause. And Golbotti would just sit there on the stage on his throne that The Twins had carved up for him, watching like he was a hundred miles away.
One day we come into the ritual and Kramer’s in the spot where Golbotti normally sits and Golbotti is lying on the front of the stage holding his side and panting, looking like he was in pain. Everyone comes in and Kramer stands up and tells everyone that he and Golbotti had a fight the other night and that Kramer had won this time. Kramer holds up his hands to show they were bloody and then he lifts up Golbotti and opens up his shirt to show that Golbotti has a terrible bruise on his lower left ribcage. Kramer tells us he broke one of Golbotti’s ribs, and in doing so received a vision of The Prophet. Kramer claimed he heard the explosion of D’Dyas for himself and declared himself high speaker. He tells everyone that Golbotti is to be exiled, and I volunteered to be the one to dump him in town.
I drove him into town later that day, riding in total silence. I could just tell Golbotti’s spirit had been totally crushed, everything he’d had was taken from him. It was tragic seeing this man I’d admired as one of the greatest men I’d ever met, now so pathetic, totally without hope. I dropped him off at a drugstore and drove away immediately. Out of everything that happened to me on the compound, the times Kramer thrashed me or the times I was publicly humiliated, starving, being cut off from my family and friends, this is the moment that comes back to me that causes me the most pain.
A few months later, Kramer comes back from town with food and speed and a letter. I don’t know where he got the letter, but he told us it was from Frank Golbotti. He had this bizarre reaction of gloating, genuine surprise, even disgust, showing the letter around and proudly reading what had been written inside. It was a poem, and he had us recite it every day during the ritual from then till I ran off.
Let space in,
Space holds you,
Something interior becomes exterior.
No rituals, games.
Space is friend,
Space is enemy
I think the poem meant something different to everyone, but we all knew it meant that wherever Golbotti was, he was dead. I don’t know how we all knew – it was never even spoken, but we all knew.
Four months later I had a dream of The Prophet. I saw the space shuttle of flesh for myself and hear D’Dyas, the explosion. It was as incredible, as Golboitti described. I took it as a sign from Golbotti telling me that enough was enough, I was the expression of power, that Home was done and that it was time to split. Things had gotten so extreme with Kramer, but not extreme in the way it was with Golbotti. With Golbotti, I felt like I was accessing new planes of reality. Kramer was dealing in plain human cruelty. So I took off while it was still dark, running about four hours until I hit town. I begged until I had enough for a payphone and called my folks.
A year later I’m in Santa Cruz working construction and I hear someone calling my name. It’s one of the Speakers of D’Dyas. It was a strange moment. I could see she was as affected by me, strange to everyone around her, integrating back into the community with great difficulty. They told me the compound had been busted by the cops, that everyone was separated. She did’t know what happened to the rest of them, but that she heard Kramer was still out there, still living free. I’ve come into contact with a few other former members, but that’s where my interactions with the cult end. I’ve just been pulling myself together since.”
Tom gave me the contact information for a few of the other members, and I managed to talk to all of them, whether by email, phone, or, in one case, in person. Their stories back up Tom’s stories and shed a little more light on the day to day life on the compound, but by far Tom’s account was the most lucid.
I asked Tom if he believes if their rituals were successful. He told me that he believed that the actions opened the door but that the work was not done. The unfinished psychic work of D’Dyas is one of the major influences for The Runaway’s upcoming “The Doing Drugs And Dying In Space Ritual,” a compilation of 11 short plays about doing drugs and dying in space.
I can’t go into details, but through the contacts given to me by the former members, I’ve been in close contact with the cult as it survives today preparing for this one weekend performance. I’ve been given a bonafide sermon and ritual instructions by the Speakers high up in the D’Dyas hierarchy. Kramer St John even submitted the a play (“Space Death”) to the ritual, though I suspect the play was at least partially written by a younger acolyte. From March 24th through March 27th, we will strive to complete D’Dyas’ psychic legacy in a righteous display of weirdo theater. I hope you’ll join us.
THE DOING DRUGS AND DYING IN SPACE RITUAL
MARCH 24 – 27
IRIDIUM CLOTHING CO
*Noodles was the former banker for Golbotti, given the name for a the large collection of Campbell’s Noodle Soup he brought to the compound.
From March 24th through March 27th, The Runaways Lab Theatre will be presenting The Doing Drugs And Dying In Space Ritual: a psychedelic compilation of fourteen short plays of depraved psychedelia. In honor of this momentous occasion, The Runaways is proud to present a true-life account of The D’dyas Space Cult, its history recorded here for the first time.
Frank Golbotti held “trip sessions” in his lab from the hours of 9 pm to 2 am four nights a week. The evenings quickly grew from Golbotti and his assistant Kramer St John to a diverse group of their combined friends.
Golbotti and Kramer would preside over these gatherings, both occupying their own important roles therein. Golbotti would provide Kramer with enough money to purchase copious amounts of acid, psychedelic mushrooms, and mescaline. When the psychedelics were ingested, Kramer would stalk the lab keeping tabs on the guests, making sure no one was having a “bad trip.” Golbotti would guide the trip, reading koans, reciting scientific concepts he found inspiring, and eventually inserting his own spiritual theories into the experience.
It only a few months before the purpose of the trips changed from drug experimentation to a “spiritualist club” dedicated to “discovering the truth of human thought,” and that those who attended were “acolytes” to the teachings of “High Speaker” Frank Golbotti. What is most surprising is that attendance did not waver after these bold proclamations, showing just how trusted Golbotti was to those who knew him. It was around this same time Golbotti would refer to these meeting as “The convergence of The D’Dyas.”
We know Golbotti named the cult after a hallucination of the sound of an explosion bursting from a space shuttle made of flesh. He determined the explosion was a pure expression of power, or “D’Dyas.” Up until this point in his life, he admitted to feeling as though his life was meaningless. He would later tell acolytes that the first moment his life felt like it had purpose was the first time he took acid with Kramer. Naturally, Golbotti came to the conclusion that in order for his life to continue to be meaningful, he had to continue to challenge the void with actions of absurdity. For Golbotti, taking hallucinogens was this absurd action.
“The D’Dyas is the expression of power. The expression of power ripples through the perversity of nothingness. This perversion of the perversity of nothingness can only be known as ‘truth.’”
– Frank Golbotti on The Purpose of D’Dyas
This base thesis of the society is what initially bound the group of middle aged professionals and teenage dropouts to the psychedelic ritual. The more conservative of Golbotti’s followers were seduced into the fold by the intellectual excuse that experimenting with psychedelics was not for fun, but a means for better understanding the world around them. Likewise, Kramer’s young beach bum friends were drawn in by the promise of free drugs, and stuck around for Golbotti’s teachings that validated their outsider, anti-societal tendencies.
Around November of 1964, Golbotti’s non-D’Dyas friends noticed a change in him. Golbotti had picked up a few new off-putting habits and showed an open hostility to anyone he did not consider his intellectual equal. He became vocally passionate and intense in his work. Before he was a man who rested and observed from a place of intelligence, now he was driven, often getting into loud arguments with his coworkers. He would arrive at the lab soaked in sweat, shaking with energy, but in his words, “raring to go!” In a few months, he’d alienated himself from contemporaries had previously revered and respected his work.
Golbotti’s wife Arlene was well aware of his activities in D’Dyas. He’d invited her to a number of the Convergences, but she only ever came once. According to Golbotti’s journals, she was “disturbed and upset” by the hallucinating acolytes and his intense, impassioned preaching. He is heartbroken as he describes her “excusing herself from the room sit to the in the hallway and cry.” He felt ashamed of himself, but remained determined that his work was a part of something greater, and had to continue to push against the void.
In February of 1965, Frank Golbotti’s wife and daughter and left the state of California without warning. Some suspected they may have left the state, maybe even changed their names for fear of any connection to Golbotti. Though Golbotti claimed that his life was void of meaning before forming D’Dyas, the fleeing of his wife and daughter was devastating.
In the spring of that year, Golbotti took his followers north from Santa Cruz to a piece of countryside recommended to him by one of the D’Dyas acolytes. Tom had befriended Kramer St John and had been attending the convergences for a few months before the exodus. When the opportunity came to travel with this group of spiritually enlightened, Tom took it.
Golbotti, Kramer, and the D’Dyas acolytes all left early in the morning to drive over one hundred miles up to Petaluma county, meeting first at an abandoned gas station a few miles up the Highway 17. Golbotti stood on the roof of a Volkswagen van and gave a brief, impassioned speech framing this journey as “an Exodus,” and that their work on this new compound would “beget real, radical truth” and “power from beyond the traditional scope of humanity.” After the speech, Kramer placed a tab of acid on the tongue of the three dozen acolytes to better “engage with the journey.”
The former acolytes I interviewed all described being absolutely thrilled to leave for the compound, how the lush countryside of rolling, green hills seemed to welcome them as they approached their destination. Tom himself describes this shift from a weekly get together to spiritual commune as “a moment where I truly felt connected to something greater than myself,” and that “it was the greatest feeling he’d ever experienced.”
Tom tells me that when they arrived, he was unloading camping gear with the rest of the acolytes and saw Golbotti leaping out of his convertible and running through the field, thrilled, manic, “like a child after eating too much chocolate.”
“We’re here!” Tom could hear Golbotti screaming. “We’re Home! We’re Home!”
This is a photograph of the two cabins of Home: the compound that housed The D’Dyas Space Cult from 1965-1969. My mother took this picture two weeks ago after I received the exact location from one of the former members.
I sent Tom an email a few days ago with the pictures of the compound. His reply:
“Im sorry to see that again. lot of hard times on the home. the drugs changed. when they changed it changed everything. [Home] is where it all got heavy.”