All right, folks. I'm taking the time to type out the lyrics to a song here, so do me a favor and listen to it. If need be, you can drop by my place and hear it; otherwise, buy the album. It's money well spent.
I like to think of the subject of this song as "Dave's conspiracy theory girlfriend." Naturally, I have no such girlfriend, but a man can dream, can't he?
The Hidden Hand
"Coffin Lily"
from Mother Teacher Destroyer, Southern Lord Records, 2004.
In the pale blue light she thrives.
Velvet curtains no light shines.
High speed connection keeps her alive.
She's an adept of the night.
Hey Hey what she sees. A premonition
of the conspiracy. Hey Hey what
she knows. 33 degres at
bohemian grove.
Her daddy's from a Martian sea.
Mommy's Sycambrian. Her lord's a
Nibiru king. All things Merovingian.
Hey Hey what she sees. Her burning
heart is wrapped in tragedy. Hey Hey
the path she takes. A solar barge
out to China lake.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
The Hidden Hand's newest album, Mother Teacher Destroyer, and Lair of the Minotaur's Carnage, finally arrived in the mail today. While I haven't listened to either one all the way through, I can safely say that my anticipation was completely warranted.
This is a good morning, and knowing that I only have one night of work left before the weekend only makes it better.
This is a good morning, and knowing that I only have one night of work left before the weekend only makes it better.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
I'm probably jinxing myself by speaking too soon, but fuck it:
It's coming.
Let's hope it doesn't stop until it's as solid as, albeit nowhere like, what I saw at the end of my sophomore year of college.
Cryptic, I know, but they don't call them veiled words for nothing. And this is very much about words.
It's coming.
Let's hope it doesn't stop until it's as solid as, albeit nowhere like, what I saw at the end of my sophomore year of college.
Cryptic, I know, but they don't call them veiled words for nothing. And this is very much about words.
Monday, October 25, 2004
When I meet a woman who can make me as consistently happy as the Almighty Riff- and I'm not writing this as an homage to the Almighty Riff so much as a testament to the horribly fickle nature of females, and any charges of sexism be damned- I will be happy.
Sweet Jesus, humanity can be one hell of a disappointment.
Sweet Jesus, humanity can be one hell of a disappointment.
Friday, October 22, 2004
I've had it for a couple months now, and Morgion's Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth, while not something I listen to with any great frequency, gets better every time I hear it. At times, it reminds me, of all things, of Metallica's Master of Puppets, which to this day strikes chords in me that no other album does.
Don't think that Morgion is at all like Metallica, though. Far from it. Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth is a slow, doomy record, but not of the Cathedral/Sabbath variety. It's much more in tune with, say, old My Dying Bride material, i.e., doomdeath, which is something I haven't listened to in years, but still plucks certain heartstrings. If you're not a metal fan, I can't really describe this album (or any of the metal albums I rave about, for that matter), but that's not important. If you want a late-night/early morning experience that doesn't involve your standard soundtrack, you may want to pick this up, especially if the weather is cool, the sky is grey, and you're willing to let your consciousness move into more fantastical realms. This all sounds cliche, but I'll be damned if it's not the truth as I see it, which may not be aligned with any universal truth, but, I like to think, actually is on some level.
Don't think that Morgion is at all like Metallica, though. Far from it. Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth is a slow, doomy record, but not of the Cathedral/Sabbath variety. It's much more in tune with, say, old My Dying Bride material, i.e., doomdeath, which is something I haven't listened to in years, but still plucks certain heartstrings. If you're not a metal fan, I can't really describe this album (or any of the metal albums I rave about, for that matter), but that's not important. If you want a late-night/early morning experience that doesn't involve your standard soundtrack, you may want to pick this up, especially if the weather is cool, the sky is grey, and you're willing to let your consciousness move into more fantastical realms. This all sounds cliche, but I'll be damned if it's not the truth as I see it, which may not be aligned with any universal truth, but, I like to think, actually is on some level.
Dave Mann, if you're reading this, here's the fucking psychogeographical core of Houston we've been hunting for, courtesy of Hunter S. Thompson:
" Houston is a cruel and crazy town on a filthy river in East Texas with no zoning laws and a culture of sex, money and violence. It's a shabby sprawling metropolis ruled by brazen women, crooked cops and super-rich pansexual cowboys who live by the code of the West -- which can mean just about anything you need it to mean, in a pinch."
Read Thompson's full article here.
" Houston is a cruel and crazy town on a filthy river in East Texas with no zoning laws and a culture of sex, money and violence. It's a shabby sprawling metropolis ruled by brazen women, crooked cops and super-rich pansexual cowboys who live by the code of the West -- which can mean just about anything you need it to mean, in a pinch."
Read Thompson's full article here.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Last night at work, in addition to my usual proofreading duties, I was asked to proof a set of mugshots for the Harris County Sheriff's Department/Crime Stoppers. I spent a good hour double-checking one set of mugshots and basic data of fugitives- 56 of them- against the info provided by the Sheriff's Department. Fifty-six people, wanted for everything from aggrevated assault to forgery to capital murder to indecency with a child to felony theft.
The Greensheet occasionally prints outside jobs, and this was one of them. It was the first time I'd seen the most-wanted list in our queue, so I was surprised, but it was a good change from looking at ads all night. It was weird, though, looking at all those faces and trying to imagine them committing the crimes they were wanted for. Some of the fugitives were younger than me, some looked perfectly normal, and some seemed like total incongruities, like the old Chinese guy wanted for assault with a deadly weapon. I started putting together stories about these people in my head, and I think that when I have the time I'm going to actually do something with them.
I also realized last night that I talk to an inordinate number of schizophrenics during the week. Since the Greensheet offices are downtown, and a mere block from the bus station, all manners of homeless and/or unemployed folks wander the streets, many of whom hit me up for cigarettes or change when I'm on a break outside. A significant percentage of them seem to suffer from one mental disorder or another, and I often wonder how their brain chemistry differs from mine. Since I'll probably never find out, I just talk to 'em and try to treat them like anyone else; this can be tough, though, when you think the guy you're talking to is gonna drop his pants and show you the hernia lurking near his genitals.
The Greensheet occasionally prints outside jobs, and this was one of them. It was the first time I'd seen the most-wanted list in our queue, so I was surprised, but it was a good change from looking at ads all night. It was weird, though, looking at all those faces and trying to imagine them committing the crimes they were wanted for. Some of the fugitives were younger than me, some looked perfectly normal, and some seemed like total incongruities, like the old Chinese guy wanted for assault with a deadly weapon. I started putting together stories about these people in my head, and I think that when I have the time I'm going to actually do something with them.
I also realized last night that I talk to an inordinate number of schizophrenics during the week. Since the Greensheet offices are downtown, and a mere block from the bus station, all manners of homeless and/or unemployed folks wander the streets, many of whom hit me up for cigarettes or change when I'm on a break outside. A significant percentage of them seem to suffer from one mental disorder or another, and I often wonder how their brain chemistry differs from mine. Since I'll probably never find out, I just talk to 'em and try to treat them like anyone else; this can be tough, though, when you think the guy you're talking to is gonna drop his pants and show you the hernia lurking near his genitals.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
While work will inevitably disrupt the flow of an otherwise pleasant day, I will leave you with the things that have made this afternoon what it is:
Neal Stephenson's Q&A on Slashdot
and
Negura Bunget. Incredible Romanian black metal, complete with beautiful visuals of Transylvania on their site. I need to find somewhere to buy their albums.
Neal Stephenson's Q&A on Slashdot
and
Negura Bunget. Incredible Romanian black metal, complete with beautiful visuals of Transylvania on their site. I need to find somewhere to buy their albums.
I'm getting better at keeping myself in a good mood, but I'm sure as hell a failure when it comes to cutting back on my cigarette intake.
In approximately 84 hours, I should be relaxing at my uncle's place in deep East Texas. It's just too bad that I won't have a dame along who'll be interested in watching Headbangers Ball and/or Uranium on satellite TV.
In approximately 84 hours, I should be relaxing at my uncle's place in deep East Texas. It's just too bad that I won't have a dame along who'll be interested in watching Headbangers Ball and/or Uranium on satellite TV.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Monday, October 18, 2004
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Well, this weekend hasn't lived up to my expectations, but that's hardly surprising. I drank a lot Friday and spent yesterday hung over and feeling shitty until I went to bed; I don't think it was only the booze, either. A hangover wouldn't have accounted for the mental malaise that lurked around me all day. I did get some query letters out, and watched Chungking Express, which was even better than the first time I saw it, so the day wasn't a total waste of consciousness.
I really want to see the series on the myth of terror this article is talking about. While I doubt it will change the minds of any fear-mongering politicians in Britain, it would be nice, especially if it had enough of an impact to make Britain think twice about having jumped on the terror bandwagon being driven by this country's cadre of conniving liars and whores.
I've been thinking a lot about why regular people lend their support to governments and/or political parties that, at their core, do nothing to represent the interests of the aforementioned regular people. The way I see it is that people are subjected to so much false or distorted information that they are no longer aware of the underlying reality. Not only the government and media feed this information to them; their churches, workplaces, families, and pop culture also inform their views. The real problem isn't that there are so many lies being circulated, it's that nobody wants to go to the effort of sorting the truth out. It's simply easier to believe what the President, or the newsanchor, or the pastor, or the parent, says. That way, no nasty little tidbits of information that run contrary to one's established worldview come to light, and no extra thought need be applied. I have no sympathy for those who breathe in the atmosphere of deceit without ever coughing, but it's nevertheless sad that the people that have the most to lose by uncritically accepting what's fed to them are the ones who ask the least questions.
On a larger scale- and this is where I'm at odds with a great deal of people- is the issue of belied in grand concepts. For now, I'll deal with the State. Assuming that some sort of central government is useful- another idea I'm not particularly convinced of, but I'll save that for later- I do not believe that unwavering allegiance to said government ("the State") is anything less than idiotic. The Founding Fathers would agree with me that never questioning one's government, or better yet, failing to be critical at all times, is foolish in the extreme, as such behavior leads to the individual being exploited by the State. If your government says jump, you should not ask how high; you should ask why jumping is necessary. Of course, a democratic State may allow you ask that question, but should you do so, you risk the condemnation of the State and its supporters, because the State does not want to be questioned. If it is questioned, then its viability is also in question, and those who profit from the existence of the State- politicians, for example- are threatened. It's better to create an image that the State is every man's friend, and that everyone should do their part for the State, even if said part is something unnecessary and/or odious, like, say, travelling across the globe to engage in war on another State that threatens the interests of your State- but not the citizens thereof. The citizens of both states get screwed because of a handful of people at the top. The absurdity is that the State does a fine job of convincing its constituents that it's acting in their best interest, and they totally buy it, because the State has been preparing them for such thinking since it started funding their education at the age of five or six. It's brilliant, actually, how good a job the state does of creating those who will support it, and allowing a modicum of "dissent" to make itself look magnanimous. Of course, the State has the support of any other number of allies, such as the media, the Church, the "market," and so forth. Since they all suckle on one another's bilious teats, it is in their collective interest to butress the opinions and actions of one another. That way, such groups profit from the shallow desires and beliefs they've created for the average person, who consumes them voraciously and without regard for any implicit meanings.
Fuck. I'm not really in the mood to be writing this, since thousands of people have done a better job of it than I. None of this is revelatory; people have railed against the bankruptcy of the State and similiar ideas for ages. I suppose that I've written what I have because, at this point in time, so few seem to acknowledge that even the least radical notions I've put forth, e.g. the deceit and hypocrisy of the government and media, exist at all. Once again, futility rears its ugly stone head, but you know what? Fuck futility. It might actually turn out to be the beast at the end of the road, but right now, I'm going to keep going. I don't think it's futile for people to think critically, despite any results thereof. In my case, I'm happy to have come to the point where I can see the State as a painfully manipulative, callous thing, knowing full well that it would be so much easier to accept the idea that the government acts in my best interest or that the media is being honest to me. It's not fun thinking that the conclusions I've reached could be wrong, and that I'm in a complete minority by giving minimal credibility to the government, but I take consolation in having tried to sort out the truth from the lies. Unlike a lot of people, I've fucking tried, and I'm willing to admit that I'm wrong. I might not participate in American democracy like the rest of you, but at least my knee doesn't jerk very much anymore.
I really want to see the series on the myth of terror this article is talking about. While I doubt it will change the minds of any fear-mongering politicians in Britain, it would be nice, especially if it had enough of an impact to make Britain think twice about having jumped on the terror bandwagon being driven by this country's cadre of conniving liars and whores.
I've been thinking a lot about why regular people lend their support to governments and/or political parties that, at their core, do nothing to represent the interests of the aforementioned regular people. The way I see it is that people are subjected to so much false or distorted information that they are no longer aware of the underlying reality. Not only the government and media feed this information to them; their churches, workplaces, families, and pop culture also inform their views. The real problem isn't that there are so many lies being circulated, it's that nobody wants to go to the effort of sorting the truth out. It's simply easier to believe what the President, or the newsanchor, or the pastor, or the parent, says. That way, no nasty little tidbits of information that run contrary to one's established worldview come to light, and no extra thought need be applied. I have no sympathy for those who breathe in the atmosphere of deceit without ever coughing, but it's nevertheless sad that the people that have the most to lose by uncritically accepting what's fed to them are the ones who ask the least questions.
On a larger scale- and this is where I'm at odds with a great deal of people- is the issue of belied in grand concepts. For now, I'll deal with the State. Assuming that some sort of central government is useful- another idea I'm not particularly convinced of, but I'll save that for later- I do not believe that unwavering allegiance to said government ("the State") is anything less than idiotic. The Founding Fathers would agree with me that never questioning one's government, or better yet, failing to be critical at all times, is foolish in the extreme, as such behavior leads to the individual being exploited by the State. If your government says jump, you should not ask how high; you should ask why jumping is necessary. Of course, a democratic State may allow you ask that question, but should you do so, you risk the condemnation of the State and its supporters, because the State does not want to be questioned. If it is questioned, then its viability is also in question, and those who profit from the existence of the State- politicians, for example- are threatened. It's better to create an image that the State is every man's friend, and that everyone should do their part for the State, even if said part is something unnecessary and/or odious, like, say, travelling across the globe to engage in war on another State that threatens the interests of your State- but not the citizens thereof. The citizens of both states get screwed because of a handful of people at the top. The absurdity is that the State does a fine job of convincing its constituents that it's acting in their best interest, and they totally buy it, because the State has been preparing them for such thinking since it started funding their education at the age of five or six. It's brilliant, actually, how good a job the state does of creating those who will support it, and allowing a modicum of "dissent" to make itself look magnanimous. Of course, the State has the support of any other number of allies, such as the media, the Church, the "market," and so forth. Since they all suckle on one another's bilious teats, it is in their collective interest to butress the opinions and actions of one another. That way, such groups profit from the shallow desires and beliefs they've created for the average person, who consumes them voraciously and without regard for any implicit meanings.
Fuck. I'm not really in the mood to be writing this, since thousands of people have done a better job of it than I. None of this is revelatory; people have railed against the bankruptcy of the State and similiar ideas for ages. I suppose that I've written what I have because, at this point in time, so few seem to acknowledge that even the least radical notions I've put forth, e.g. the deceit and hypocrisy of the government and media, exist at all. Once again, futility rears its ugly stone head, but you know what? Fuck futility. It might actually turn out to be the beast at the end of the road, but right now, I'm going to keep going. I don't think it's futile for people to think critically, despite any results thereof. In my case, I'm happy to have come to the point where I can see the State as a painfully manipulative, callous thing, knowing full well that it would be so much easier to accept the idea that the government acts in my best interest or that the media is being honest to me. It's not fun thinking that the conclusions I've reached could be wrong, and that I'm in a complete minority by giving minimal credibility to the government, but I take consolation in having tried to sort out the truth from the lies. Unlike a lot of people, I've fucking tried, and I'm willing to admit that I'm wrong. I might not participate in American democracy like the rest of you, but at least my knee doesn't jerk very much anymore.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Thursday, October 14, 2004
William Gibson is, ahem, blogging again. Check it out. Not only is he a fantastic writer, but he's got his shit together in every other respect as well.
If you're a regular BoingBoing reader, you'll appreciate Wiley Wiggins' wry comments on BoingBoing Lite. You can only handle Cory Doctorow's increasingly tiresome flow of semi-self-aggrandizing copyright/DRM links for so long before you wish that he'd just shut the fuck up. Come to think of it, Xeni Jardin's build-ups to her articles for Wired aren't particularly thrilling either; phonecam chronicles may provide immediacy, but they're rarely compelling.
Nota bene: It appears that Wiley Wiggins removed his comment about why filtering BoingBoing is a good idea. I don't know exactly why, but it's a bit disappointing.
If you're a regular BoingBoing reader, you'll appreciate Wiley Wiggins' wry comments on BoingBoing Lite. You can only handle Cory Doctorow's increasingly tiresome flow of semi-self-aggrandizing copyright/DRM links for so long before you wish that he'd just shut the fuck up. Come to think of it, Xeni Jardin's build-ups to her articles for Wired aren't particularly thrilling either; phonecam chronicles may provide immediacy, but they're rarely compelling.
Nota bene: It appears that Wiley Wiggins removed his comment about why filtering BoingBoing is a good idea. I don't know exactly why, but it's a bit disappointing.
Hot damn. Martin Popoff finally published his book about Blue Oyster Cult's albums and everything surrounding them, and Darkthrone's new album has reached American shores at long last, so once I get paid next week (or, more likely, later this morning, after a few beers and the ache of impatience), I'll be getting my veiny hands on both.
For those of you that are voting this year- I'm not, and not exclusively because I find the entire system to be a sham, but because I moved at the wrong time and couldn't register even if I'd really wanted to- be prepared to be fucked. I'm not talking about the outcome, although that's likely; I'm talking about electronic voting. If you find yourself in front of a touch screen instead of pulling a mechanical level or holding a paper ballot, the possibility of casting your vote for someone other than your chosen shitheel is quite real. Cue the fiasco.
If I had registed to vote, I probably would have voted for Nobody. He won in 2000, so why not give Nobody a second term?
For those of you that are voting this year- I'm not, and not exclusively because I find the entire system to be a sham, but because I moved at the wrong time and couldn't register even if I'd really wanted to- be prepared to be fucked. I'm not talking about the outcome, although that's likely; I'm talking about electronic voting. If you find yourself in front of a touch screen instead of pulling a mechanical level or holding a paper ballot, the possibility of casting your vote for someone other than your chosen shitheel is quite real. Cue the fiasco.
If I had registed to vote, I probably would have voted for Nobody. He won in 2000, so why not give Nobody a second term?
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Went to bed at 7 AM, woke up at 2:30 PM, checked my email, and decided to spent my last hour and a half before work in bed reading. I am in a leisurely, warm-bed mood, and figured that I'd loaf in a different way for a change. My new idling technique is unstoppable.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Probably due to my own lack of understanding, I'm still trying to find some kind of middle ground between Kierkegaard's aesthetic and ethical stages. I don't know if there is one. I'm definitely stuck, so to speak, in the aesthetic stage, with the occasional brief foray into the ethical.
A good amount of new black metal has been pouring forth from my speakers since I moved back to West Alabama. Drudkh is the most noteworthy outfit, and proof that the loveliest of maggots can erupt from the cold corpse of the Soviet Union.
A good amount of new black metal has been pouring forth from my speakers since I moved back to West Alabama. Drudkh is the most noteworthy outfit, and proof that the loveliest of maggots can erupt from the cold corpse of the Soviet Union.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Holy shit. I was driving my friend back to the Heights about twenty minutes ago when I noticed an unusual light emenating from left. I look over, and the dome light of my car is on. It hasn't worked since I got the Blue Bastard in February. I have no idea why it started working, but it did, and wouldn't turn off, so I ended up pulling the bulb out to kill the light.
Less than a minute later, I heard music. After briefly thinking that it was coming from a church (despite there being no churches nearby) or an adjacent car, I look down and see that my FUCKING CD PLAYER IS WORKING. Like the dome light, it's never worked since I purchased the car, so I was utterly shocked. I hope it works tomorrow, and every day thereafter. Music will make driving exponentially more pleasant.
I assume there's been some sort of short in the electrical system of the Blue Bastard, but why did those two things start working now of all times? The weather? The dampness? The presence of a certain redhead? I'll probably never know, and with my luck the CD player will never function again, but I'll rejoice in tonight's little marvel while I can.
Less than a minute later, I heard music. After briefly thinking that it was coming from a church (despite there being no churches nearby) or an adjacent car, I look down and see that my FUCKING CD PLAYER IS WORKING. Like the dome light, it's never worked since I purchased the car, so I was utterly shocked. I hope it works tomorrow, and every day thereafter. Music will make driving exponentially more pleasant.
I assume there's been some sort of short in the electrical system of the Blue Bastard, but why did those two things start working now of all times? The weather? The dampness? The presence of a certain redhead? I'll probably never know, and with my luck the CD player will never function again, but I'll rejoice in tonight's little marvel while I can.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Well, shit.
After yesterday, I have no choice but to publicly admit that I like Avril Lavigne. I have for a while, though to be accurate I don't like everything I've heard from her, and, to make the sexist angle clear, I doubt I'd give half a fuck about her if she wasn't so damned good-looking. Really, man, I'm not the pop-star-lovin' type, but fuck it. I'll swallow my pride and say that I very much enjoy "Sk8r Boi" and "Happy Ending."
There goes any credibility I might've had, but at least I don't like Britney Spears, unlike a certain sibling of mine.
On a related, and unrelated note: what. the. fuck?
After yesterday, I have no choice but to publicly admit that I like Avril Lavigne. I have for a while, though to be accurate I don't like everything I've heard from her, and, to make the sexist angle clear, I doubt I'd give half a fuck about her if she wasn't so damned good-looking. Really, man, I'm not the pop-star-lovin' type, but fuck it. I'll swallow my pride and say that I very much enjoy "Sk8r Boi" and "Happy Ending."
There goes any credibility I might've had, but at least I don't like Britney Spears, unlike a certain sibling of mine.
On a related, and unrelated note: what. the. fuck?
Ah, Saturday. I finally feel like I've got a real weekend at hand, since I have no obligations hanging over my head. So what am I going to do with my weekend? Very little. Read, drink, maybe write, and compose a couple breezy sonatas.
Andy's sister Janessa is going to Antarctica for three and a half months. I won't bother displaying my envy, but instead be thankful that she gave me a spiffy patch from the US Antarctic Program, and will probably send more once she's on the ice.
End transmission.
Andy's sister Janessa is going to Antarctica for three and a half months. I won't bother displaying my envy, but instead be thankful that she gave me a spiffy patch from the US Antarctic Program, and will probably send more once she's on the ice.
End transmission.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Monday, October 04, 2004
Merely knowing I have to go to work on any given weekday, Fridays excepted, is completely enervating.
At least I've gotten back in touch with one of my favorite people of all time, Amanda Beasley. Turns out her dog is gay and she's going to Iceland for a week later this month. I'm only envious of the latter.
At least I've gotten back in touch with one of my favorite people of all time, Amanda Beasley. Turns out her dog is gay and she's going to Iceland for a week later this month. I'm only envious of the latter.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
Well, I'm all moved into the place on West Alabama. I have bookshelves and broadband and beer, and I recently heard from one of my best friends for the first time in ages, so life is good.
I watched three movies in a row last night, which is something I never do, but it was top notch. At 5:30 in the morning, I walked over to Donut Wheel, drunk as hell, and bought kolaches for everyone, everyone being myself, my brother, and kt.
Yep, life's good.
I watched three movies in a row last night, which is something I never do, but it was top notch. At 5:30 in the morning, I walked over to Donut Wheel, drunk as hell, and bought kolaches for everyone, everyone being myself, my brother, and kt.
Yep, life's good.
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