Author: zvi
Fandom: DVD commentary
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Title: Art of War (Art of Art logoRhythmic Mix) DVD Commentary Track
Distribution: My website. All others please ask.
Original: Art of War by Livia Penn
I didn't pick this story to remix. I had actually picked Air to Breathe for the Remix. Frankly, Livia's Smallville stuff is really good and mostly it intimidated me. But I was having trouble writing a remix of Air to Breathe, since it features several things I didn't really want to work with. So, I decided to try something else, just to see if I could. And after I finished this, I felt so good, I went ahead and finished the Stop Motion Overdub of Air to Breathe.
Notes: This story is 1000 words long. Call it a kilodrabble.
Summary: "The opposite of war isn't peace. It's creation!" La Vie Boheme B, Jonathan Larson
I saw RENT four times, three of them featuring Joey Fatone. The experience has marked me.

The Art of Song

Listen boy! A girl who trades on all that purity

When there was that big snowstorm last February, I was trapped at and 's house. I made them watch the remake of The Music Man with Matthew Somebody. Mcconaughey? Broderick? Anyway, it sucked, but it reminded me that I love this musical.

What an odd dream, thought Martha. Clark singing The Music Man.

Martha turned over and opened her eyes. The sun was shining and she was awake, but the singing didn't stop.

No golden, glorious, gleaming pristine goddess, no sir

Astute observers will note that this line is not the one immediately following the first line quoted. I let time elapse as Martha was thinking. It's a geeky little detail that makes me so happy.

She got up and grabbed a robe. She could dress later, but Clark was doing terrible things to Sadder But Wiser Girl, and she needed to put a stop to it.

She walked in Anna's room singing, "No bright-eyed, blushing, breathless baby-doll baby, no s—." She blinked twice.

Clark was cradling his sister in his arms, not too unusual. But he was wearing a filthy dress shirt that she hadn't bought him and a pair of jeans too raggedy to take to college, five years ago.

If this is five years after Clark goes off to college, then his little sister is eight, which is why I felt the need to establish the time lapse. I fear it is clumsily done, but at least it's fast.

Why is Clark's dress shirt filthy? Because he just mucked cowstalls and milked cows and fixed a fencepost in his dress shirt. Why didn't he borrow his dad's clothes to do his dad's chores? Because he snuck around to do them before his dad woke up. Well, except for the part directly involving cows. Because even though he probably could lift a cow one-handed and muck with the other hand, the cow would probably crap on his head. Also, because he doesn't really care about the dress shirt and didn't think about it. Usually, he uses Lex's cleaner, and Lex's cleaner is a miracle worker.

Also, Anna was giggling happily in his arms, bizarre for her night owl child. "Mama, Clark's here!"

"Mom, you're up!"

"I'd have been up sooner if someone hadn't turned off my alarm."

He shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you, but not—right away. So, Dad's making waffles and I did the morning chores, fixed that far fence."

She smiled at him, came in and placed a kiss on each of her children's cheeks. "And got Anna up and smiling, for which I thank you." She plucked her daughter out of Clark's arms. "Go wash, honey. You've got school in a bit."

Anna nodded, ran off.

Martha immediately gave Clark a hug. Now that he was twenty-five, almost nothing sent him running home in the middle of the night. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Lex and I had a fight."

Martha blinked. "Honey, you and Lex have been fighting, well, not since you met. But," she shrugged, "it's not unusual."

Looking back, it seems like I was blatantly overstating the case on how much those two fight. But there was a period in the back half of second season where those two were pissy every week. I am undecided on whether or not I'm lying for the sake of my story here.

Clark shook his head. "This was different. He was shouting and—." Clark stood up, turned away. "It sounds stupid, I know. But we don't fight like that."

With Clark's line, I magically make my story about Livia's story, and not some random 'Lex and Clark are fighting' story. Whee! And this statement actually does hold up better than Martha's previous statement about how often Lex and Clark fight. If Lex isn't drugged or dehydrated and sunburned, he doesn't shout at people.
He wiped angrily at his eyes. "I think it's over."

She hugged him again.

I actually feel a little awkward about this section. Because the idea that each Kent would show Clark something through an artistic area came out of this section, but Martha's song doesn't actually make Clark feel better or tell him how to. If anything, Clark's song makes Anna more pleasant than she would normally be. (And that was totally not on purpose, I just thought of it right now. I put in the detail about Anna being grumpy come morning because I am grumpy come morning. Martha is perfectly supportive, but she's not supportive through song. I suppose if I renamed the section The Art of Song and Dance and had Martha swaying as she hugged Clark, I would feel better about it. But it would fuck with my word count.

The Art of Words

"Dad?"

Jonathan looked at his son. Clark's head was down, hands in soapy water, washing the dishes from breakfast and lunch.

"You said you wanted to get something after lunch?"

"After we finish with the dishes," Jonathan said. "Don't want it to get wet."

Clark nodded, and the two men worked in silence, as they had all morning. It went quickly enough, and Jonathan gestured for Clark to follow him.

What have the Kent men been doing all morning? Search me. Where is Martha? Well, when I wrote this she was still working for Lionel Luthor. While a part of me deeply suspects that Lionel will be dead by the time this story takes place, I figured she might get another outside job. Now, I say she's volunteering at the elementary school. Maybe she's the parent aide for Anna's class.

Jonathan pointed at the couch when they entered the front room but walked over to the bookcase. He found the book he was looking for immediately. He handed the battered volume to Clark, who took it gingerly.

He sat down as his son flipped the book over, then opened the front cover, and read aloud, "Martha, words have failed me. I looked here for an answer, but nothing really fits. All I can do is apologize. I'm sorry. I love you. Jonathan."

Inquiring minds may want to know what book Jonathan gave Martha. Inquiring minds will be sad to know that I am unsure. Complete works of Shakespeare, Bartlett's quotation, and the Song of Songs are all heavy contenders, but in the end, I couldn't make up my mind, so Jonathan was never explicit.
Clark looked at his father. "I don't understand."

Jonathan smiled. "Your mother and I had a fight about three years after we got married. That year's crop was pretty bad, and a couple of your mother's friends from school were making a real name for themselves in Metropolis and—. It was a hard time. The two of us went at it hammer and tongs."

It's not quite an aphorism, but Jonathan's aphorism talk is what inspired that hackneyed phrase.
He looked away and swallowed. "I broke a statue, gift from her mother, and she walked out."

"She walked out?" Clark looked shocked; he wrapped his arms around his body.

Jonathan nodded. "It took me a day to realize she wasn't coming back by herself. Another day to realize I wanted her back. A week to track her down. She was moving from friend to friend."

"So, you sent her this book, and everything was okay?" Clark's voice was thick and a little scornful.

Jonathan shook his head. "I gave the book to the people she was staying with. She called home and told me that nothing had changed. But we were talking and it was a start."

I honestly think that Jonathan's section is the most important, because saying you're sorry doesn't fix anything. It just clears the ground for fixing. But I also feel like it's the least dynamic and interesting section. In my head, Jonathan's just not a colorful character, especially when he's all platitude guy. This makes me sad, because I can see Jonathan and his son having a wonderful, fun, funny relationship on screen (cf. the Pilot, Heat). But I just don't understand Jonathan a lot of the time. Why is he evil to Lex sometimes and adopting him sometimes? Why does he blame Lex for Lionel's actions while Lex was unconscious or hospitalized? And who the hell knocks out their father-in-law-to-be?

The Art of Art

Anna leapt off the bus and ran into the house, shouting, "Clark! Clark! You're home! Gimme a ride! "

Anna, Anna bobanna fee fi fo fanna. Anna! Several people commented on Anna, saying that she was less annoying than most original child characters. Thank you. Thank you. However, I didn't do anything special with her. I just assumed she was a person, blunter, more blatantly self-serving, and shorter than an adult, but a person for all of that. I confess, also, that I am a big fan of children's books, the kind that plunk ordinary, well-behaved children in highly improbable magical adventures. Last but not least, the aspect I enjoy most about children is that you can tell them anything, they will believe you, and then they will insist that is how the world works to anyone they meet. What's not to love in a walking mark? (For the fearful parents in the audience, I never intend to spawn.)

Her brother picked her up and threw her over a shoulder. "You're too tall to sit on my shoulders. I think you have to hang out upside down." Clark laughed like a hyena.

The other thing I was thinking about Anna is that she thinks Clark is a big dork. Like, a huge dorkity-dork. She is not impressed that he is pretty. (I am totally enraptured by Tom Welling's prettiness, yo. Whole scenes of Cheaper By the Dozen went by with me paying attention to nothing but that man's face.) She's just very unimpressed by how not cool he is.

Anna laughed too. Even if Clark was her dorky brother, she liked hanging upside down. "Clark! Got something for you! Wanna see?"

"Sure thing, Anna Banana." He put her down.

She reached in her backpack and pulled out a piece of tan paper. "I painted our family tree." She laid it on the table.

Clark picked her up, held her over the table. "Tell me about it."

She pointed to the middle group. "That's mom and me and Daddy and my calf, Tessie." She pointed to the top. "The big building is Metropolis, and there's you and Lex. I didn't put Mr. Luthor; he's scary."

I know I said that I thought Lionel would be dead before they got to this story. Well, I was also pretty sure that Martha's pregnancy would be terminated before this story came to pass. So, the never-was-a-child and the dead-father-in-law can be in one story.
She looked up at her brother. "Hey, where's Lex? He said he'd give me Milka next visit, because Nestle's is worse than cow patties."
I've never had Milka. I'm not even sure that's the right spelling. made reference to something like it at some point, and it stuck with me. I don't know nothing from milk chocolate, anyway. Not a big fan.

Clark knelt until he was even with her. His face was pinched and funny-looking, almost scary serious. "Lex won't come visit anymore."

Anna stuck her tongue out, which she wasn't supposed to do, but Clark was so stupid sometimes, even if he was a million years old. "Lex is my brother. He can't just not come see me. Call him and make him come."

Clark pinched his lips together. "Anna, you remember how Sheila's parents got divorced, and now her mom isn't around? It's like that with me and Lex. He and I had a big fight, and now, he's not your brother."

"Clark, I have fights all the time. You and your friend get mad. And then you're not mad. So you say you're sorry. Did you say you were sorry?"

Clark looked back at her picture, then the floor. "No."

"Well call him and apologize. I want my cool brother."

If you had questions that were not answered in this commentary, feel free to ask them.