One day, an increasingly large number of years from now, I'll write something really meaningful about heavy metal, despite the fact that metal needs no spokesperson- especially not me.
Hail the riff.
now playing: Jex Thoth, Jex Thoth
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Dear Hollywood: Fuck you and your censorship-loving cronies.
I've censored the following, in protest of a bill that gives any corporation and the US government the power to censor the internet--a bill that could pass THIS WEEK. To see the uncensored text, and to stop internet censorship, visit: http://americancensorship.org/posts/13273/uncensor
████ ███████ isn't ████████ ███████; it's the ████ ████ it's ████████ ████ ██████. Do █████████, ████ if it's ████ ███████ an █████ to ████ ███████████████. ████ ████ █████.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Teachings in silence.
At the blurred, exhausted edge of a winter night
there is possibly nothing better
than a tall glass of cold water
and Ulver
(particularly the Teachings in Silence compilation).
Silence teaches you how to sing
indeed.
there is possibly nothing better
than a tall glass of cold water
and Ulver
(particularly the Teachings in Silence compilation).
Silence teaches you how to sing
indeed.
Friday, December 09, 2011
"Teenagers and Cigarettes"/"16yo lungs" (first, maybe last, draft)
"teenagers and cigarettes"/"16yo lungs"
The surest sign of youth is that
patch of dirt or grass around
the side of the house,
or that sun-bled coke can,
sometimes a windowsill-
all
scratched black
and clotted with filters,
sometimes lipsticked
(and when they are, and that color isn't yours,
oh how the heart moves),
never symmetrical in their destruction.
The escape and worry,
isolation
and happiness,
the held hands
that led to
or emerged from
each long drag instance,
won't wait for archaeology
or enraged parents
or the disappointment of an older self
to signify
like the tiny orange supernova
of the word writ in fire
between synaptic headphones.
(12.8-9.11)
The surest sign of youth is that
patch of dirt or grass around
the side of the house,
or that sun-bled coke can,
sometimes a windowsill-
all
scratched black
and clotted with filters,
sometimes lipsticked
(and when they are, and that color isn't yours,
oh how the heart moves),
never symmetrical in their destruction.
The escape and worry,
isolation
and happiness,
the held hands
that led to
or emerged from
each long drag instance,
won't wait for archaeology
or enraged parents
or the disappointment of an older self
to signify
like the tiny orange supernova
of the word writ in fire
between synaptic headphones.
(12.8-9.11)
Monday, November 28, 2011
Achievement Unlocked: Garbage, I
The monoliths
rise before our eyes,
vertical steppes of basalt and sunburnt grass-
so out of place in this country,
this barren country,
stumps and thirst and empty wombs,
timber stripped and turned mockingly skyward.
How,
how on earth,
did they find time to build tombs while...
oh.
Oh.
rise before our eyes,
vertical steppes of basalt and sunburnt grass-
so out of place in this country,
this barren country,
stumps and thirst and empty wombs,
timber stripped and turned mockingly skyward.
How,
how on earth,
did they find time to build tombs while...
oh.
Oh.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Chinese eunuchs and PKD's Exegesis
Hey, look, it's been a while. What a surprise.
I blame school, mostly. The semester's simultaneously flown and crawled by, punctuated by one Chinese assignment after another, logic tests, and so on. I've got a week of classes left after Thanksgiving, and then finals. Or a final, really, since my last grades for three-fourths of my classes will come in the form of papers and such.
School stuff aside, I've been doing what I always do, and that's read. This habit almost unquestionably gets in the way of school sometimes, but I don't care, because it's reading, dude, and therefore impossible to classify as detrimental behavior. I've read a handful of books over the past couple months, and am in the midst of several more. Two of these, the recently-published Exegesis of Philip K. Dick, and The Eunuchs in the Ming Dynasty by Shih-Shan Henry Tsai, deserve special note. No, I'm not going to try and relate the two.
The Ming eunuch book, along with another volume (The Confusions of Pleasure: Commerce and Culture in Ming China by Timothy Brook, which I finished in October) have been invaluable resources about aspects of Chinese history that usually receive a few passing comments or are dealt with in broad strokes. Since I decided to take a stab at writing an historical novel that partly involves Ming China, I've read a number of books and essays dealing with various features of said dynasty, and the Tsai and Brook books have so far been my favorites- not only because they're packed with information that almost always leads to further research (God, so much to learn!), but because they've helped solidify some of my ideas for the novel. Not to mention they're both well-written and well-researched books.
The eunuch thing has been particularly fascinating. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around almost every aspect of castration-as-career-advancement, mainly because I can barely put up with what modern work demands of me. Complete emasculation under horribly unsafe conditions so I can work in the imperial household (if I'm lucky)? No thanks. Still, Tsai's book casts new light on the positive role eunuchs played in various spheres of Ming life, contrasting what he describes as a systematic bias against them by the betesticled scholar-gentry. He doesn't deny that there were notorious eunuchs, but clearly feels that those who did admirable work have been overshadowed in the history books. I would complain that the book could use some more personalized, humanizing accounts of eunuch life, but I think the absence of such material, both from this book and the historical record, proves Tsai's point. When I was in China I saw a biography of the last Qing eunuch, Sun Yaoting, who died in 1996, and while he was born a couple centuries after the end of the Ming dynasty, I bet his story would be worth hearing.
On to a different form of madness. No, madness isn't the right word, whether dealing with an era when "voluntary self-castration became epidemic," to quote Tsai, or the 8,000 mostly handwritten pages of Philip K. Dick's Exegesis, a personal (i.e., not really meant for publication) investigation into the causes and effects of what PKD called 2-3-74. This series of events is well-known to fans of PKD's work (hey, that's me!), and there's plenty about it online, so I'll spare you and I both a description. It would be easy to write off Dick's experiences as some kind of insanity or mental breakdown, but in my opinion such an approach wouldn't be accurate.
Well, not entirely accurate. The Exegesis as it exists in printed form is roughly a tenth of the material Dick wrote before his death in 1982, and I'm less than a tenth of the way through this version, which puts me at less than 1% of the original work. (Which will probably never be published in its entirety- the introduction to the excerpted version makes this clear, and the text itself makes it clear why.) Even at this point I find myself in that most interesting of positions: unconvinced by Dick's explanations of what happened to him, yet deeply intrigued by the variety of possibilities he entertains and his workings-out of them.
The degree of self-examination- which is what the Exegesis is at its core, albeit a type of self-examination that understands the self as part of something much greater; the whole microcosm/macrocosm thing, generally speaking- is staggering, downright Proustian at times, if Proust had had metaphysical and cosmological concerns as his focus. This kind of feverish attempt to explain one's experiences via constantly-shifting models- including Dick's own books, ancient Christianity, and extraterrestrial intelligence(s)- is one of the things that leads many to believe Dick lost it in the early '70s, which maybe he did to some degree. I see it- at least right now- as a sort of awakening, although since I really enjoy PKD's later work my opinion may be biased, and the books that emerged from the 2-3-74 thing aren't a complete break from earlier work anyway. A thematic detour, perhaps, but not a 180. I can't argue that the behavior that produced the Exegesis isn't obsessive, but again, I wouldn't necessarily use that term in a negative sense.
Another striking feature of the Exegesis is Dick's impressive knowledge. Some of his ruminations are grounded in faulty understanding, sure, but the ease with which he discusses philosophy, religion, and science gives me hope. In our day and age (read: the Internet era) one doesn't come across polymathic minds as often as one would like, so seeing Dick expound on all kinds of things, seemingly off the cuff, is a distinct pleasure. His wide range of interests is apparent in many of his novels, but it really shows when he isn't bound by narrative or plot. This in turn relates to why people are interested in writers' unpublished work: they like to see what writers write for themselves.
Christ, all this pontificating makes it sound like I've read more than I have- how could I glean this much from less than eighty pages? There's a couple ways to address this. One: by virtue of all the other PKD books and related material I've read over the years, I effectively have read more of, and about, the Exegesis. Two: despite being a fraction of the way through, my prior knowledge, and the structure of the book itself, leads me to believe that what I've read thus far is representative of the rest of the book. Not in terms of content, necessarily, but I think the central conceit- understanding his own experiences and, by extension, reality itself- will remain. If it doesn't, great; I'm down for all kinds of diversions from the path, the detours from detours, and seeing as how this isn't the kind of book one reads quickly, I'll have plenty of time to ponder each of Dick's new theories about why things are the way they are.
As I mentioned earlier, Dick's theories don't convince me, even though I enjoy mulling them over. I don't get the impression that he's trying to convince me, though- why would he, since the Exegesis wasn't meant for a particularly wide audience? Personal project or not, I'm glad it has reached a wider audience, which will find all kinds of intellectual gems (or proof of madness, depending on how one reads it) and interpret the work in all kinds of ways. If anything, the Exegesis will be good for that- not bad for a personal project!
It appears logorrhea's gotten the best of me. It's time to work on something else, so I'll say goodbye for now, and I'll try to write more often. Later, folks.
I blame school, mostly. The semester's simultaneously flown and crawled by, punctuated by one Chinese assignment after another, logic tests, and so on. I've got a week of classes left after Thanksgiving, and then finals. Or a final, really, since my last grades for three-fourths of my classes will come in the form of papers and such.
School stuff aside, I've been doing what I always do, and that's read. This habit almost unquestionably gets in the way of school sometimes, but I don't care, because it's reading, dude, and therefore impossible to classify as detrimental behavior. I've read a handful of books over the past couple months, and am in the midst of several more. Two of these, the recently-published Exegesis of Philip K. Dick, and The Eunuchs in the Ming Dynasty by Shih-Shan Henry Tsai, deserve special note. No, I'm not going to try and relate the two.
The Ming eunuch book, along with another volume (The Confusions of Pleasure: Commerce and Culture in Ming China by Timothy Brook, which I finished in October) have been invaluable resources about aspects of Chinese history that usually receive a few passing comments or are dealt with in broad strokes. Since I decided to take a stab at writing an historical novel that partly involves Ming China, I've read a number of books and essays dealing with various features of said dynasty, and the Tsai and Brook books have so far been my favorites- not only because they're packed with information that almost always leads to further research (God, so much to learn!), but because they've helped solidify some of my ideas for the novel. Not to mention they're both well-written and well-researched books.
The eunuch thing has been particularly fascinating. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around almost every aspect of castration-as-career-advancement, mainly because I can barely put up with what modern work demands of me. Complete emasculation under horribly unsafe conditions so I can work in the imperial household (if I'm lucky)? No thanks. Still, Tsai's book casts new light on the positive role eunuchs played in various spheres of Ming life, contrasting what he describes as a systematic bias against them by the betesticled scholar-gentry. He doesn't deny that there were notorious eunuchs, but clearly feels that those who did admirable work have been overshadowed in the history books. I would complain that the book could use some more personalized, humanizing accounts of eunuch life, but I think the absence of such material, both from this book and the historical record, proves Tsai's point. When I was in China I saw a biography of the last Qing eunuch, Sun Yaoting, who died in 1996, and while he was born a couple centuries after the end of the Ming dynasty, I bet his story would be worth hearing.
On to a different form of madness. No, madness isn't the right word, whether dealing with an era when "voluntary self-castration became epidemic," to quote Tsai, or the 8,000 mostly handwritten pages of Philip K. Dick's Exegesis, a personal (i.e., not really meant for publication) investigation into the causes and effects of what PKD called 2-3-74. This series of events is well-known to fans of PKD's work (hey, that's me!), and there's plenty about it online, so I'll spare you and I both a description. It would be easy to write off Dick's experiences as some kind of insanity or mental breakdown, but in my opinion such an approach wouldn't be accurate.
Well, not entirely accurate. The Exegesis as it exists in printed form is roughly a tenth of the material Dick wrote before his death in 1982, and I'm less than a tenth of the way through this version, which puts me at less than 1% of the original work. (Which will probably never be published in its entirety- the introduction to the excerpted version makes this clear, and the text itself makes it clear why.) Even at this point I find myself in that most interesting of positions: unconvinced by Dick's explanations of what happened to him, yet deeply intrigued by the variety of possibilities he entertains and his workings-out of them.
The degree of self-examination- which is what the Exegesis is at its core, albeit a type of self-examination that understands the self as part of something much greater; the whole microcosm/macrocosm thing, generally speaking- is staggering, downright Proustian at times, if Proust had had metaphysical and cosmological concerns as his focus. This kind of feverish attempt to explain one's experiences via constantly-shifting models- including Dick's own books, ancient Christianity, and extraterrestrial intelligence(s)- is one of the things that leads many to believe Dick lost it in the early '70s, which maybe he did to some degree. I see it- at least right now- as a sort of awakening, although since I really enjoy PKD's later work my opinion may be biased, and the books that emerged from the 2-3-74 thing aren't a complete break from earlier work anyway. A thematic detour, perhaps, but not a 180. I can't argue that the behavior that produced the Exegesis isn't obsessive, but again, I wouldn't necessarily use that term in a negative sense.
Another striking feature of the Exegesis is Dick's impressive knowledge. Some of his ruminations are grounded in faulty understanding, sure, but the ease with which he discusses philosophy, religion, and science gives me hope. In our day and age (read: the Internet era) one doesn't come across polymathic minds as often as one would like, so seeing Dick expound on all kinds of things, seemingly off the cuff, is a distinct pleasure. His wide range of interests is apparent in many of his novels, but it really shows when he isn't bound by narrative or plot. This in turn relates to why people are interested in writers' unpublished work: they like to see what writers write for themselves.
Christ, all this pontificating makes it sound like I've read more than I have- how could I glean this much from less than eighty pages? There's a couple ways to address this. One: by virtue of all the other PKD books and related material I've read over the years, I effectively have read more of, and about, the Exegesis. Two: despite being a fraction of the way through, my prior knowledge, and the structure of the book itself, leads me to believe that what I've read thus far is representative of the rest of the book. Not in terms of content, necessarily, but I think the central conceit- understanding his own experiences and, by extension, reality itself- will remain. If it doesn't, great; I'm down for all kinds of diversions from the path, the detours from detours, and seeing as how this isn't the kind of book one reads quickly, I'll have plenty of time to ponder each of Dick's new theories about why things are the way they are.
As I mentioned earlier, Dick's theories don't convince me, even though I enjoy mulling them over. I don't get the impression that he's trying to convince me, though- why would he, since the Exegesis wasn't meant for a particularly wide audience? Personal project or not, I'm glad it has reached a wider audience, which will find all kinds of intellectual gems (or proof of madness, depending on how one reads it) and interpret the work in all kinds of ways. If anything, the Exegesis will be good for that- not bad for a personal project!
It appears logorrhea's gotten the best of me. It's time to work on something else, so I'll say goodbye for now, and I'll try to write more often. Later, folks.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
2011年10月18日
almost midnight:
first chill
and a bit too much beer.
through yawn after yawn,
all it takes
is this moment.
first chill
and a bit too much beer.
through yawn after yawn,
all it takes
is this moment.
Sunday, October 09, 2011
(Still) Still Reigning
October 7th marked the 25th anniversary of the release of Slayer's seminal album Reign in Blood. I, and thousands of other metalheads, regard this record as not only a historical milestone in heavy metal history, but a completely fucking awesome record that, had it existed when NASA was shooting cultural artifacts into deep space, could've been the sole musical cargo.
I think Seasons in the Abyss was the first Slayer record I heard, and I still have incredibly strong youthful memories of "War Ensemble," "Dead Skin Mask," and "Seasons in the Abyss." Reign in Blood, however, is a monolithic memory. Kyle, our neighbor in middle school- and to this day, good buddy- had the tape, which he lent to me and my brother, seemingly forever. Back then (this is 1993, I'd say) our parents left for work before we caught the bus to school, which meant that we had somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour most mornings to crank up the stereo, make lame calls to Z-Rock (106.9 KKZR), and do other juvenile shit, like try to make napalm from gasoline and styrofoam peanuts. The album I remember listening to most was Reign in Blood, blasted at a volume no stereo I've had since could achieve, because nobody seems to make three-foot-tall speakers anymore (and, of course, memory inscribes the past with legendary features that the present could never hope to equal).
Still, Reign in Blood isn't merely a nostalgia piece. I've been listening to it on a pretty regular basis for almost 20 years, and it's still killer. I don't remember where I read it, but someone, possibly numerous someones, described it as "twenty-five minutes between 'Angel of Death' and 'Raining Blood'." I think that does the album a disservice, as almost all of the other songs are awesome, particularly "Altar of Sacrifice," and "Jesus Saves." The former is still one of the most evil-sounding songs I think I've ever heard; the way it moves from a sense of victimized panic to Satanic-priest-triumphalism remains unnerving, to the point where I can understand why parents would freak out if they caught their kids listening to it. "Jesus Saves" has a great buildup and a riff that any metal band would kill to have written.
You know what? Enough of this. If you're a metal fan, you already know what I'm talking about. If you're not, go buy a copy. Reign in Blood doesn't feel 25 years old; it feels timeless. And that cover art is untouchable.
Thanks, Slayer.
I think Seasons in the Abyss was the first Slayer record I heard, and I still have incredibly strong youthful memories of "War Ensemble," "Dead Skin Mask," and "Seasons in the Abyss." Reign in Blood, however, is a monolithic memory. Kyle, our neighbor in middle school- and to this day, good buddy- had the tape, which he lent to me and my brother, seemingly forever. Back then (this is 1993, I'd say) our parents left for work before we caught the bus to school, which meant that we had somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour most mornings to crank up the stereo, make lame calls to Z-Rock (106.9 KKZR), and do other juvenile shit, like try to make napalm from gasoline and styrofoam peanuts. The album I remember listening to most was Reign in Blood, blasted at a volume no stereo I've had since could achieve, because nobody seems to make three-foot-tall speakers anymore (and, of course, memory inscribes the past with legendary features that the present could never hope to equal).
Still, Reign in Blood isn't merely a nostalgia piece. I've been listening to it on a pretty regular basis for almost 20 years, and it's still killer. I don't remember where I read it, but someone, possibly numerous someones, described it as "twenty-five minutes between 'Angel of Death' and 'Raining Blood'." I think that does the album a disservice, as almost all of the other songs are awesome, particularly "Altar of Sacrifice," and "Jesus Saves." The former is still one of the most evil-sounding songs I think I've ever heard; the way it moves from a sense of victimized panic to Satanic-priest-triumphalism remains unnerving, to the point where I can understand why parents would freak out if they caught their kids listening to it. "Jesus Saves" has a great buildup and a riff that any metal band would kill to have written.
You know what? Enough of this. If you're a metal fan, you already know what I'm talking about. If you're not, go buy a copy. Reign in Blood doesn't feel 25 years old; it feels timeless. And that cover art is untouchable.
Thanks, Slayer.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Thoughts.
I was talking to my pops the other day, discussing random fields of interest and he said I should write an essay, or something along those lines, about something. It was interesting timing, given how fascinated I am with Chinese xiaopin wen品 文), Kenko's Tsurezuregusa, and similar efforts from Westerners, and that most of the books I bought in China were volumes of essays. It's not quite what my dad had in mind, but seeing as how the matter has continually struck a chord with me for some time, I'm giving it even more thought than usual.
Part of me wants to compile some essays- and I use the term loosely, as my Chinese and Japanese inspirations would- and maybe make an effort to have them published. But why? That's the question that haunts me. Off the cuff observations are incredibly well suited to the online format, so I'm leaning toward posting any such essays here or to my freeshell.org website (or both). We'll see; the first step is actually writing something, and given my course load this semester, I'm too busy memorizing Chinese characters and doing logic proofs- not to mention reading a lot of other stuff- to write even a short essay. And writing modern, Western takes on xiaopin isn't even a high priority, compared to other things!
I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm actually pleased that I have so much on my plate, even though most of it will never get eaten, so to speak. There are a lot of things I've got going on that should manifest in one form or another in the near future, which is pretty exciting. It's so fuckin' easy to lose track of possibilities if you're not careful.
Later, folks. Have a good night, and I'll do the same!
Yours,
DAS
Part of me wants to compile some essays- and I use the term loosely, as my Chinese and Japanese inspirations would- and maybe make an effort to have them published. But why? That's the question that haunts me. Off the cuff observations are incredibly well suited to the online format, so I'm leaning toward posting any such essays here or to my freeshell.org website (or both). We'll see; the first step is actually writing something, and given my course load this semester, I'm too busy memorizing Chinese characters and doing logic proofs- not to mention reading a lot of other stuff- to write even a short essay. And writing modern, Western takes on xiaopin isn't even a high priority, compared to other things!
I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm actually pleased that I have so much on my plate, even though most of it will never get eaten, so to speak. There are a lot of things I've got going on that should manifest in one form or another in the near future, which is pretty exciting. It's so fuckin' easy to lose track of possibilities if you're not careful.
Later, folks. Have a good night, and I'll do the same!
Yours,
DAS
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Back.
Well, I'm back. Lots to report, but all the China stuff is over at my website, so read it there. Right now I'm doing a little writing, not thinking about school- which is going to be a drag this semester- and listening to Candlemass, so I'll get back to you later, dear reader. See you soon.
Monday, July 04, 2011
auto-theft re: my own work (LAST POST PRE-CHINA)
I just vomited up a bunch of text on Facebook. I'm reprinting it here because I'm lazy. All sentiments are still valid (since they were expressed moments ago).
--BEGIN FB TRANSMISSION--
This is big shit. I've been obsessing over China- its culture, language, history, etc.- for years, and tomorrow I get on a series of planes to visit the Middle Kingdom, and realize firsthand how utterly ignorant I am of the reality of the culture that's contributed so much to the world for a few thousand years.
Since I won't be using Facebook or my blog while I'm in Shanghai, Suzhou, Beijing, or any of the places Tracey and I might visit once she gets there (Tianjin, Xi'an, Qingdao represent!), y'all probably wont get regular updates. You have my email address (and if you don't, make haste in asking for it) if you wanna converse with me while I'm busy studying the fuck out of putonghua, eating interesting food, and conversing with old folks and anyone that crosses my path.
Many of you have an idea of how excited I am about this trip. China has been my goal for at least a decade. I'm a history nerd, but I know enough about modern China than to expect to to masturbate myself into a frenzy over historical Chinese sights and sounds. I'm thrilled to have the chance to stroll around Beijing and buy Chinese heavy metal CDs. Eat Chinese takes on world cuisine. Smoke cigarettes with anyone who has time for a long-haired Western barbarian. See sights. Plug my earbuds into the ears of the willing and curious. Write notes. Read books. Live fucking life.
I owe my beloved Tracey, the University of Houston, Zhang/Mai/Wen (in no particular order) laoshi, and my own willpower for making this happen. Whatever I make of it in the long run doesn't matter. This is about now, right fuckin' now, the Tao that is nameless. Thank all of you.
And thank everyone else that hasn't been mentioned, because I love y'all too. You're a bunch of sexy, handsome, nerdy, literate, meaningful dudes and chicks.
Love always, and I hope that upon my return I'm a better dude,
D.A. Smith
P.S. As I'm writing this I'm bangin' "Male Feminist" by MC Lars, because this song rules and more importantly women make this world fuckin' rad. Madre, Tracey Robertson, (and in no particular order) Amanda Beasley, Vanessa Riley, Megan Neal, Annie Bulloch, Renee Salmonsen, Renee Miller, Janessa Link, Holly Smith, Jennifer Groves, Linda Evans, Alexa Nash, Nicole Derby, Shabis Kinsella, Liz Smith,Shari Fitzgerald, Aunt Linda, Aunt Annell (RIP), Tati Elena, Tati Lu, Nora Joyce, Emma Goldman, Parker Posey, Justine Frischmann, Dorothy Shakespear, Pearl Buck, Dana Scully, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Nursehella, your mom, and a zillion more, fictional or otherwise: THUMBS UP, LADIES. KEEP KICKIN' ASS.
--
Done. All hail YTCracker and his albums. See y'all on the other side of the Great Firewall.
--BEGIN FB TRANSMISSION--
This is big shit. I've been obsessing over China- its culture, language, history, etc.- for years, and tomorrow I get on a series of planes to visit the Middle Kingdom, and realize firsthand how utterly ignorant I am of the reality of the culture that's contributed so much to the world for a few thousand years.
Since I won't be using Facebook or my blog while I'm in Shanghai, Suzhou, Beijing, or any of the places Tracey and I might visit once she gets there (Tianjin, Xi'an, Qingdao represent!), y'all probably wont get regular updates. You have my email address (and if you don't, make haste in asking for it) if you wanna converse with me while I'm busy studying the fuck out of putonghua, eating interesting food, and conversing with old folks and anyone that crosses my path.
Many of you have an idea of how excited I am about this trip. China has been my goal for at least a decade. I'm a history nerd, but I know enough about modern China than to expect to to masturbate myself into a frenzy over historical Chinese sights and sounds. I'm thrilled to have the chance to stroll around Beijing and buy Chinese heavy metal CDs. Eat Chinese takes on world cuisine. Smoke cigarettes with anyone who has time for a long-haired Western barbarian. See sights. Plug my earbuds into the ears of the willing and curious. Write notes. Read books. Live fucking life.
I owe my beloved Tracey, the University of Houston, Zhang/Mai/Wen (in no particular order) laoshi, and my own willpower for making this happen. Whatever I make of it in the long run doesn't matter. This is about now, right fuckin' now, the Tao that is nameless. Thank all of you.
And thank everyone else that hasn't been mentioned, because I love y'all too. You're a bunch of sexy, handsome, nerdy, literate, meaningful dudes and chicks.
Love always, and I hope that upon my return I'm a better dude,
D.A. Smith
P.S. As I'm writing this I'm bangin' "Male Feminist" by MC Lars, because this song rules and more importantly women make this world fuckin' rad. Madre, Tracey Robertson, (and in no particular order) Amanda Beasley, Vanessa Riley, Megan Neal, Annie Bulloch, Renee Salmonsen, Renee Miller, Janessa Link, Holly Smith, Jennifer Groves, Linda Evans, Alexa Nash, Nicole Derby, Shabis Kinsella, Liz Smith,Shari Fitzgerald, Aunt Linda, Aunt Annell (RIP), Tati Elena, Tati Lu, Nora Joyce, Emma Goldman, Parker Posey, Justine Frischmann, Dorothy Shakespear, Pearl Buck, Dana Scully, Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Nursehella, your mom, and a zillion more, fictional or otherwise: THUMBS UP, LADIES. KEEP KICKIN' ASS.
--
Done. All hail YTCracker and his albums. See y'all on the other side of the Great Firewall.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
to-do list: near future edition
Things to do within the next year, or maybe starting next summer, depending on what they are:
-get more familiar with UNIX and associated programs (vim for starters)
-set up my own Gopherspace
-get my books and music arranged alongside Tracey's; now that we're married, there's not much excuse not to merge our collections
-skate more
-translate at least three of Lin Yutang's (or someone's) essays from Chinese
-visit my brother in California
-finish volumes 2 (in progress) and 3 of In Search of Lost Time
-finish 2666, not kill self
-hit 150 pages on the current novel, or another one, as long as I'm writing something
-maybe get into some kinda grad program for Chinese, if not, no worries
-convince myself certain types of comma usage are acceptable
-lots of other things I can't think of right now
How can you help? I don't know. Remind me I wrote this in, say, January 2012, and maybe that'll start a frenzy of activity. Or I'll do nothing and blame it on what should be my final semester at UH in the Chinese Studies program.
I'll be back before I head to China. Later, folks.
now playing: Destroyer 666, Unchain the Wolves
-get more familiar with UNIX and associated programs (vim for starters)
-set up my own Gopherspace
-get my books and music arranged alongside Tracey's; now that we're married, there's not much excuse not to merge our collections
-skate more
-translate at least three of Lin Yutang's (or someone's) essays from Chinese
-visit my brother in California
-finish volumes 2 (in progress) and 3 of In Search of Lost Time
-finish 2666, not kill self
-hit 150 pages on the current novel, or another one, as long as I'm writing something
-maybe get into some kinda grad program for Chinese, if not, no worries
-convince myself certain types of comma usage are acceptable
-lots of other things I can't think of right now
How can you help? I don't know. Remind me I wrote this in, say, January 2012, and maybe that'll start a frenzy of activity. Or I'll do nothing and blame it on what should be my final semester at UH in the Chinese Studies program.
I'll be back before I head to China. Later, folks.
now playing: Destroyer 666, Unchain the Wolves
Friday, June 24, 2011
A thousand thoughts, a thousand edits
Lately I've written several things that I either didn't post here, or took down shortly after posting them. My reasons are numerous: something wasn't finished, or it sucked, or it was inconsequential, even by the standards of this blog. Take, for example, my brief paean to Brooke Brodack, which itself relied on my habit of collecting search terms that returned no results on Google. My wife caught it before I removed it, which is fine; I wasn't ashamed of the sentiments expressed therein- after all, don't you find it odd that after all these years nobody's typed the same thing into Google?-but the muddled nature of the post irked me when I re-read it. Hence its voyage into the void.
A bizarre, and quite possibly awful, nanofiction piece I've worked on lately, "Bad Dudes," also got axed, because I posted it when it wasn't complete. It'll return for your reading displeasure very soon. I also stayed up way, way too late one night composing an essay on dressing well (Oh, the irony!), but it remains unfinished and unspecific, and may never see the light of day.
I mention these things because, very soon, I'm going to China for several weeks. The Great Firewall of China will block my access to Blogger, so I'll be incommunicado via this channel. I should be able to post to my website from the Middle Kingdom, so look there if you want to follow my activities in real(ish)-time. Whether I'll write much is an entirely different matter, and I'll probably reprint my travelogue here when I return to Houston; ergo, I can't guarantee that you'll find much worth reading- assuming there's anything in the first place.
And now some assorted facts, statements, etc. in no particular order:
-I have a gorgeous gingham tie I'm dying to wear. There are also a number of gorgeous ties I want to purchase, and wear. The disconnect between my usual mode of dress and the things I just expressed is not lost on me.
-I'm two or three days into an experiment wherein I've swapped using a webmail client (standard Gmail) for Thunderbird. So far I'm quite pleased with the separation of web and mail.
-Grails' Deep Politics album was stunning upon first listen, and only gets better with time. That D-side engraving is icing on the cake for those of us who purchase vinyl.
-I'm reading far too many books at once*. Off the top of my head, I'm in the midst of vol. 2 of In Search of Lost Time; a re-read of Pynchon's Mason & Dixon; the seemingly never-edited but defiantly enjoyable Denied to the Enemy by Dennis Detwiller (Axis Mundi Sum never had an editor, sure, but it wasn't riddled with spelling/homonym errors and awful comma splices); a volume of collected Solomon Kane tales by Robert E. Howard; The Unborn, a series of the Zen teacher Bankei's lectures and dialogues; The Confusions of Pleasure by Timothy Brook, a history of commerce and culture in Ming dynasty China that I can't recommend enough; and probably a couple more. I keep track of every book I read during the year, and having so many in rotation not only makes the list look pitifully short, it seems I never finish anything.
-Tracey and I's wedding celebration in Wimberley was awesome. I extend my thanks to everyone who came, because without y'all it wouldn't have been what it was.
-The Time of No Time Evermore by The Devil's Blood is a really, really good record.
-Julie Delpy, of (in my book) Killing Zoe fame, stars as the infamous Erszebet Bathory in a movie called The Countess. I haven't watched it yet, but man, how can you go wrong with that combination?
-Commas appear to be encroaching into my writing with a frequency that would be alarming if I wasn't confident that I use them properly. Using them well is a different story, of course.
That's all for now, dear readers. Thanks for your time, and I hope to post more before I head east by going west.
Your friend,
D.A. Smith
*Nothing new, yet always worthy of complaint.
A bizarre, and quite possibly awful, nanofiction piece I've worked on lately, "Bad Dudes," also got axed, because I posted it when it wasn't complete. It'll return for your reading displeasure very soon. I also stayed up way, way too late one night composing an essay on dressing well (Oh, the irony!), but it remains unfinished and unspecific, and may never see the light of day.
I mention these things because, very soon, I'm going to China for several weeks. The Great Firewall of China will block my access to Blogger, so I'll be incommunicado via this channel. I should be able to post to my website from the Middle Kingdom, so look there if you want to follow my activities in real(ish)-time. Whether I'll write much is an entirely different matter, and I'll probably reprint my travelogue here when I return to Houston; ergo, I can't guarantee that you'll find much worth reading- assuming there's anything in the first place.
And now some assorted facts, statements, etc. in no particular order:
-I have a gorgeous gingham tie I'm dying to wear. There are also a number of gorgeous ties I want to purchase, and wear. The disconnect between my usual mode of dress and the things I just expressed is not lost on me.
-I'm two or three days into an experiment wherein I've swapped using a webmail client (standard Gmail) for Thunderbird. So far I'm quite pleased with the separation of web and mail.
-Grails' Deep Politics album was stunning upon first listen, and only gets better with time. That D-side engraving is icing on the cake for those of us who purchase vinyl.
-I'm reading far too many books at once*. Off the top of my head, I'm in the midst of vol. 2 of In Search of Lost Time; a re-read of Pynchon's Mason & Dixon; the seemingly never-edited but defiantly enjoyable Denied to the Enemy by Dennis Detwiller (Axis Mundi Sum never had an editor, sure, but it wasn't riddled with spelling/homonym errors and awful comma splices); a volume of collected Solomon Kane tales by Robert E. Howard; The Unborn, a series of the Zen teacher Bankei's lectures and dialogues; The Confusions of Pleasure by Timothy Brook, a history of commerce and culture in Ming dynasty China that I can't recommend enough; and probably a couple more. I keep track of every book I read during the year, and having so many in rotation not only makes the list look pitifully short, it seems I never finish anything.
-Tracey and I's wedding celebration in Wimberley was awesome. I extend my thanks to everyone who came, because without y'all it wouldn't have been what it was.
-The Time of No Time Evermore by The Devil's Blood is a really, really good record.
-Julie Delpy, of (in my book) Killing Zoe fame, stars as the infamous Erszebet Bathory in a movie called The Countess. I haven't watched it yet, but man, how can you go wrong with that combination?
-Commas appear to be encroaching into my writing with a frequency that would be alarming if I wasn't confident that I use them properly. Using them well is a different story, of course.
That's all for now, dear readers. Thanks for your time, and I hope to post more before I head east by going west.
Your friend,
D.A. Smith
*Nothing new, yet always worthy of complaint.
Monday, May 30, 2011
A little late!
Did I tell you dudes that I have a web page? As in, one that ain't a blog? Well, I do, and it looks like it was made in 1997. On purpose.
Click here to waste time.
There's not much there, and it looks that way 1) because it's written in pure HTML, my grasp of which hasn't changed much since the late '90s, 2) I don't have much to offer textually speaking, much less graphically, and 3) I'm lazy, so why bother doing more?
(Cue tangent w/r/t web design, visual overload, etc. etc., then realize it's not worth it, and never write said tangent.)
The website, which was generously provided by the SDF Public Access Unix System, will be a repository for stuff that I don't feel fits this blog. As of now, nothing qualifies as such- well, nothing I've written- but I like leaving the option open. Maybe my D&D notes will end up there, should I ever type 'em up.
I'm off to read some Joe Bob Briggs movie reviews, so see y'all later!
Click here to waste time.
There's not much there, and it looks that way 1) because it's written in pure HTML, my grasp of which hasn't changed much since the late '90s, 2) I don't have much to offer textually speaking, much less graphically, and 3) I'm lazy, so why bother doing more?
(Cue tangent w/r/t web design, visual overload, etc. etc., then realize it's not worth it, and never write said tangent.)
The website, which was generously provided by the SDF Public Access Unix System, will be a repository for stuff that I don't feel fits this blog. As of now, nothing qualifies as such- well, nothing I've written- but I like leaving the option open. Maybe my D&D notes will end up there, should I ever type 'em up.
I'm off to read some Joe Bob Briggs movie reviews, so see y'all later!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Status report.
The busy year marches on.
Finished the semester. Got married (rad). Preparing to have wisdom teeth pulled. Finally visited Waterloo Records in Austin. Getting ready for the big wedding party in a couple weeks. Got a summer suit. All set for my China trip (or so I like to pretend). Occasionally working on the new novel. Having a hard time finding time to do a lot of the stuff I want, but trying not to get frustrated 'cause I've seen it coming for months.
Often tired. So it goes.
Finished the semester. Got married (rad). Preparing to have wisdom teeth pulled. Finally visited Waterloo Records in Austin. Getting ready for the big wedding party in a couple weeks. Got a summer suit. All set for my China trip (or so I like to pretend). Occasionally working on the new novel. Having a hard time finding time to do a lot of the stuff I want, but trying not to get frustrated 'cause I've seen it coming for months.
Often tired. So it goes.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
"solitaire bangers"
damn
i hear blogger's having problems
so why bother writing?
"oh man
ain't that a bigger question
bigger than the internet?"
well shit
you have a very good point
maybe back in the dialup era
wardialin' and angelfirin'
there was a chance of
some other dudes
or some other chicks
clicking on the mailto:
now it's all skull interior decoration
and there ain't no mailto:
a former essence preached to
probably nobody
nah
nah nah
yeah nobody gives a fuck
take off the headphones
it's all you
echo chamber
fuck all the pricks
and the web and
fuck all the snoozers takin' your bed
when you should be gettin' sleep
posting to gopher
sdf-in' for an audience of one
rhyme and cadence not a strong suit
or a suit of any kind
time to test the rumor
hate to consign shit to the void
but it's all goin' there
in the long run
my galaga scores more important
than anything else this dude
ever done
poetry's for suckers
and demigods
and motherfuckers
press
reset
"hey man, lurk moar"
i hear blogger's having problems
so why bother writing?
"oh man
ain't that a bigger question
bigger than the internet?"
well shit
you have a very good point
maybe back in the dialup era
wardialin' and angelfirin'
there was a chance of
some other dudes
or some other chicks
clicking on the mailto:
now it's all skull interior decoration
and there ain't no mailto:
a former essence preached to
probably nobody
nah
nah nah
yeah nobody gives a fuck
take off the headphones
it's all you
echo chamber
fuck all the pricks
and the web and
fuck all the snoozers takin' your bed
when you should be gettin' sleep
posting to gopher
sdf-in' for an audience of one
rhyme and cadence not a strong suit
or a suit of any kind
time to test the rumor
hate to consign shit to the void
but it's all goin' there
in the long run
my galaga scores more important
than anything else this dude
ever done
poetry's for suckers
and demigods
and motherfuckers
press
reset
"hey man, lurk moar"
Monday, April 25, 2011
Scott's Stash: Somewhere Far Beyond
This one is easy:
Blind Guardian- Somewhere Far Beyond (1992)
Not as bombastic as later Blind Guardian albums- i.e., not as much synth and orchestral stuff- and much faster than the last record of theirs I heard (A Twist in the Myth from 2006), this is an excellent example of why the phrase "power metal" is so often proceeded by "German."
When I think of Blind Guardian my mind jumps to my brother's bedroom c. 1998-99, when he played some of Nightfall in Middle-Earth for me. A whole metal album based on The Silmarillion was pretty fucking cool in my book, so BG has stayed in my mind over the years. I'm no connoisseur of power metal, but Blind Guardian's good at what they do and have earned their reputation.
This is a good soundtrack for doing homework, too. The vibe is so positive and soaring and, despite the technical skill and musicianship, uncomplicated, that I got a lot more done than I would have if I'd been listening to, say, any of the albums I've bought lately. (Jex Thoth, I'm looking at you.) It's a good feeling.
One last stray observation before I wrap up. This particular disc is a reissue from 2000 and has three "CD bonus tracks." They're unnecessary and distracting on two levels: they throw off the album's general feel, and the addition of "CD" to "bonus tracks" in 2000 AD is baffling. C'est la vie, or however you'd say it in German or Elvish.
Blind Guardian- Somewhere Far Beyond (1992)
Not as bombastic as later Blind Guardian albums- i.e., not as much synth and orchestral stuff- and much faster than the last record of theirs I heard (A Twist in the Myth from 2006), this is an excellent example of why the phrase "power metal" is so often proceeded by "German."
When I think of Blind Guardian my mind jumps to my brother's bedroom c. 1998-99, when he played some of Nightfall in Middle-Earth for me. A whole metal album based on The Silmarillion was pretty fucking cool in my book, so BG has stayed in my mind over the years. I'm no connoisseur of power metal, but Blind Guardian's good at what they do and have earned their reputation.
This is a good soundtrack for doing homework, too. The vibe is so positive and soaring and, despite the technical skill and musicianship, uncomplicated, that I got a lot more done than I would have if I'd been listening to, say, any of the albums I've bought lately. (Jex Thoth, I'm looking at you.) It's a good feeling.
One last stray observation before I wrap up. This particular disc is a reissue from 2000 and has three "CD bonus tracks." They're unnecessary and distracting on two levels: they throw off the album's general feel, and the addition of "CD" to "bonus tracks" in 2000 AD is baffling. C'est la vie, or however you'd say it in German or Elvish.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
"West Lake"
One day I walk by the lake.
One day I sit by the lake.
One day I stand by the lake.
One day I lie by the lake.
-袁宏道/Yuan Hongdao, 1568-1610 (translated by Jonathan Chaves)
One day I sit by the lake.
One day I stand by the lake.
One day I lie by the lake.
-袁宏道/Yuan Hongdao, 1568-1610 (translated by Jonathan Chaves)
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Categorization.
I've never tagged any of my writing here, mostly out of laziness but partially because of my disinterest in sorting my posts into categories that would feel either forced or merely convenient. I'd say that my muttering does often lend itself to tagging- poetry, personal stuff, music, etc.- but I don't see any reason to label individual entries in what is essentially an ongoing chronicle of, let's face it, whatever happens to capture my attention long enough to write about it online. I don't have any problems with categories (if I did, I wouldn't haunt the stacks at the library as often as I do), and I'm certainly not claiming that my, ahem, "work" defies categorization. I'm just not interested in doing it myself.
I probably should have joined LiveJournal a long time ago, I guess, but fuck it. The Corpse Speaks: music, writing, nostalgia, beer, books, life's small triumphs and looming defeats, and anything else are all fair game, unsorted save by date of publication. Just like a notebook, or that journal you wish you'd destroyed after senior year wound down and left you with a knot in your stomach, wondering what the hell would come next.
now playing: The Human Instinct, Stoned Guitar
I probably should have joined LiveJournal a long time ago, I guess, but fuck it. The Corpse Speaks: music, writing, nostalgia, beer, books, life's small triumphs and looming defeats, and anything else are all fair game, unsorted save by date of publication. Just like a notebook, or that journal you wish you'd destroyed after senior year wound down and left you with a knot in your stomach, wondering what the hell would come next.
now playing: The Human Instinct, Stoned Guitar
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Scott's Stash: Birth of the Dawn
What? Two posts in one day? Why is that, you ask? Because yours truly doesn't feel like tackling his Chinese homework yet, that's why. My procrastination gives you...
Orodruin- Birth of the Dawn (1999)
This pick looked dubious from the start. The liner notes have that ragged desktop printer thing going on, but since this is a remastered demo (not listed on the Encyclopedia Metallum, by the way, though the demo is), shitty packaging is acceptable. There are three songs here, or more accurately two songs, the first of which is a two-parter. The CD is completely unlabeled.
I have no idea how my brother acquired this, but I'm glad he did. This is fuckin' rad. "Birth of the Dawn/Sons of Nature" opens with some speedy traditional metal riffage that continues on for a while before the vocals show up- I thought it was going to be an instrumental. The overall sound of this first track brings to mind something that never happened: my brother's old band Last Eve playing Iron Maiden's "Losfer Words/Big 'Orra." Which probably means nothing to you, but that's not my problem.
"Creation Through Death" hits the brakes and lurches into doom mode. Whether this song's as good as the first is a matter of taste, but it's no slouch in the musicianship department. For a demo, this has remarkably clear production; I wonder what the unremastered original sounded like. My main complaint is that the vocals aren't as strong as the music demands. They're adequate, but not much more than that.
Birth of the Dawn is a nice little find for a Wednesday afternoon, and proof that the heavy metal demo is as cool as ever.
Orodruin- Birth of the Dawn (1999)
This pick looked dubious from the start. The liner notes have that ragged desktop printer thing going on, but since this is a remastered demo (not listed on the Encyclopedia Metallum, by the way, though the demo is), shitty packaging is acceptable. There are three songs here, or more accurately two songs, the first of which is a two-parter. The CD is completely unlabeled.
I have no idea how my brother acquired this, but I'm glad he did. This is fuckin' rad. "Birth of the Dawn/Sons of Nature" opens with some speedy traditional metal riffage that continues on for a while before the vocals show up- I thought it was going to be an instrumental. The overall sound of this first track brings to mind something that never happened: my brother's old band Last Eve playing Iron Maiden's "Losfer Words/Big 'Orra." Which probably means nothing to you, but that's not my problem.
"Creation Through Death" hits the brakes and lurches into doom mode. Whether this song's as good as the first is a matter of taste, but it's no slouch in the musicianship department. For a demo, this has remarkably clear production; I wonder what the unremastered original sounded like. My main complaint is that the vocals aren't as strong as the music demands. They're adequate, but not much more than that.
Birth of the Dawn is a nice little find for a Wednesday afternoon, and proof that the heavy metal demo is as cool as ever.
Scott's Stash: The Grand Leveller
This one comes from the batch of albums that Drew gave my brother:
Benediction- The Grand Leveller (1991)
Once more I find myself holding an album belonging to a band whose name I've known for ages but have never listened to. At some point I'm going to stop even bothering to mention this, as it'll probably be the norm for this series.
Actually Benediction's music isn't completely new to me, at least in part. Dave Ingram replaced Karl Willetts as the vocalist for Bolt Thrower from 1998 until 2004. I've always liked the one album Bolt Thrower released with Ingram on vocals, so when I went searching for an album to listen to while driving down the toll road and saw The Grand Leveller, I knew that even if the music sucked, the vocals wouldn't.
Of course, I didn't expect that the music would actually suck. Lo and behold, it turned out to be damned good. The production and overall tone of the instruments dates the album in the best way possible: it's the sound of British death metal a few years past its infancy but well before death metal's general decline into frustrating mediocrity in the late '90s. Not that nothing good came out of those years, but the early '90s produced some really good shit, and the response to some of it (i.e., black metal) was inspiring, too. The Grand Leveller is a good example of that time, if a lesser-known one.
Dave Ingram sounds good here, as does the rest of the band (not that I have a point of comparison). The songs are varied in tempo and mood, but not in a predictable, slow-doomy-number-now-something-faster-now-a-couple-midpaced-ones way. The riffs are killer, and the solos are too. As I mentioned earlier, I like the production; the heaviness of the music doesn't rely on it, and it accentuates what I think of as the outer edges of the sound. The lyrics aren't awful, but they're not particularly good, either. (I'm leaving the issue of the importance of lyrics alone.) There's a Celtic Frost cover here that's cool enough, but feels unnecessary, as covers often do.
Overall, Benediction surpassed my expectations. One thing I've noted as I've listened to this album a few times is that it works well as a complete unit, to the point where I don't have a favorite song. That could be a reflecting on how I listen to music, but I think it's more a sign of a well-crafted and well-played album. This isn't unique in death metal, but it's always a pleasure to put on a record and be able to listen to it all the way through, knowing that there's a sick riff or real headbanging part just around the corner. Good shit.
P.S. The photo of Dave Ingram in the liner notes is priceless.
Benediction- The Grand Leveller (1991)
Once more I find myself holding an album belonging to a band whose name I've known for ages but have never listened to. At some point I'm going to stop even bothering to mention this, as it'll probably be the norm for this series.
Actually Benediction's music isn't completely new to me, at least in part. Dave Ingram replaced Karl Willetts as the vocalist for Bolt Thrower from 1998 until 2004. I've always liked the one album Bolt Thrower released with Ingram on vocals, so when I went searching for an album to listen to while driving down the toll road and saw The Grand Leveller, I knew that even if the music sucked, the vocals wouldn't.
Of course, I didn't expect that the music would actually suck. Lo and behold, it turned out to be damned good. The production and overall tone of the instruments dates the album in the best way possible: it's the sound of British death metal a few years past its infancy but well before death metal's general decline into frustrating mediocrity in the late '90s. Not that nothing good came out of those years, but the early '90s produced some really good shit, and the response to some of it (i.e., black metal) was inspiring, too. The Grand Leveller is a good example of that time, if a lesser-known one.
Dave Ingram sounds good here, as does the rest of the band (not that I have a point of comparison). The songs are varied in tempo and mood, but not in a predictable, slow-doomy-number-now-something-faster-now-a-couple-midpaced-ones way. The riffs are killer, and the solos are too. As I mentioned earlier, I like the production; the heaviness of the music doesn't rely on it, and it accentuates what I think of as the outer edges of the sound. The lyrics aren't awful, but they're not particularly good, either. (I'm leaving the issue of the importance of lyrics alone.) There's a Celtic Frost cover here that's cool enough, but feels unnecessary, as covers often do.
Overall, Benediction surpassed my expectations. One thing I've noted as I've listened to this album a few times is that it works well as a complete unit, to the point where I don't have a favorite song. That could be a reflecting on how I listen to music, but I think it's more a sign of a well-crafted and well-played album. This isn't unique in death metal, but it's always a pleasure to put on a record and be able to listen to it all the way through, knowing that there's a sick riff or real headbanging part just around the corner. Good shit.
P.S. The photo of Dave Ingram in the liner notes is priceless.
Friday, April 08, 2011
星期四跟星期五一样吗？
Despite four weeks of gainful unemployment, Thursday nights still feel like the equivalent of Friday nights. It'll change with time, I'm sure, but old habits die hard. It's past midnight and I'm done beating my head against the wall working on the new potential novel, so I've been delving into the PDFs that came with my recent purchase of Lamentions of the Flame Princess: Weird Fantasy Role-Playing. It's all great stuff- so much so that I'm having a hard time reading one particular rulebook and keep switching between them. It doesn't help that I bought a couple-three modules as well, all of which seem rich with potential.
Life's all kinds of busy these days. There's school, moving in with the wife, planning for the wedding, planning for my summer study and honeymoon in China, figuring out what classes to take in the fall, adjusting to a new laptop (and a new OS, which is Windows- blargh), plans to edit/rewrite Critical Hits, research and writing for the new novel, trying to keep my AD&D game together, schemes for the LOTFP game I want to run in the fall... this is probably the busiest year I've had in a long time, and I'm sure there are events and activities I'm forgetting.*
It's late. I should go to bed, but I think I'll keep reading the LOTFP rules. I never followed James Raggi's old heavy metal zine of the same name that closely, but I'm pleased to see that the dedication he put into it has transferred to his role-playing efforts.
G'night!
*I just remembered the "Scott's Stash" series- I've got a couple albums lined up for it, but haven't posted my writeups yet. Soon enough, soon enough...
Life's all kinds of busy these days. There's school, moving in with the wife, planning for the wedding, planning for my summer study and honeymoon in China, figuring out what classes to take in the fall, adjusting to a new laptop (and a new OS, which is Windows- blargh), plans to edit/rewrite Critical Hits, research and writing for the new novel, trying to keep my AD&D game together, schemes for the LOTFP game I want to run in the fall... this is probably the busiest year I've had in a long time, and I'm sure there are events and activities I'm forgetting.*
It's late. I should go to bed, but I think I'll keep reading the LOTFP rules. I never followed James Raggi's old heavy metal zine of the same name that closely, but I'm pleased to see that the dedication he put into it has transferred to his role-playing efforts.
G'night!
*I just remembered the "Scott's Stash" series- I've got a couple albums lined up for it, but haven't posted my writeups yet. Soon enough, soon enough...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
"Awe. Yeah." (+coda)
"Awe. Yeah."
Sometimes in the middle of the afternoon
you run across some amazing mo
ments
nothing that you expected or created or decided
upon
against all good timing and all good sense
you see something
hear something
feel something
that hits the switch in your tired brain bank
and pops that vault wide
open
doesn't matter if the words come out wrong
much less if the scansion's weak as Pong
gotta push rhymes sometimes
to get through the interstitial gristle
and address the joy that comes with moments like
this all alone with a beer and a mind that knows
despite knowing better on all fronts
fuck the words
moon pointing at the finger and shit
no crossed signals blink
of the eye
knuckles against palm
words in cat's ears
string it out bounce it off the walls
the walls
oh shit! oh shit!
the smile's pushed the rhyme scheme
out the room (out the room)
check the fridge for caffeine
the savior of later
ignore the hater that's you put 'em in lockdown
like history and Nader vote two thousand
oops got it backward
and things fall apart
things chinua achebe wants nothing to do with
this is the end when my eyes scan
up and down
and up and down
but it doesn't
mean that this motherfucking poem
isn't a heart: split 'em!
paean to what me and them and you
and the rest of the world can do
even for a long-assed head-bobbing
summation of the moment
when all the weirdness is pooling
and the pituitary's drooling
down the CNS
There's nothing better than right now.
Stand back
head back
bask in the tracks and strings and ho
liness of what makes you smile unabashed.
Awe.
Yeah.
---
This shitty poem is dedicated to, in no particular order:
my fiance, Saint Arnold beer, shit poetry, growing up nerdy, Orange Kitty, Matt "Scientist"/"Poet" Swulius, the first frustrating hour of Phantasy Star II, Red Pine, 8-Bit Boys, Youtube videos, studying Chinese, fresh headphones, Last.fm on Netflix on Xbox360, all the other loves of my life, and yours fuckin' truly.
Live life, but no more than conscience dictates. Don't do what I've done and let the past capture and paralyze your imagination. Don't sweat perfection. Good times are now Dissect the past like the Renaissance man dissected human bodies. Learn. Right now is it, and this is it.
Sometimes in the middle of the afternoon
you run across some amazing mo
ments
nothing that you expected or created or decided
upon
against all good timing and all good sense
you see something
hear something
feel something
that hits the switch in your tired brain bank
and pops that vault wide
open
doesn't matter if the words come out wrong
much less if the scansion's weak as Pong
gotta push rhymes sometimes
to get through the interstitial gristle
and address the joy that comes with moments like
this all alone with a beer and a mind that knows
despite knowing better on all fronts
fuck the words
moon pointing at the finger and shit
no crossed signals blink
of the eye
knuckles against palm
words in cat's ears
string it out bounce it off the walls
the walls
oh shit! oh shit!
the smile's pushed the rhyme scheme
out the room (out the room)
check the fridge for caffeine
the savior of later
ignore the hater that's you put 'em in lockdown
like history and Nader vote two thousand
oops got it backward
and things fall apart
things chinua achebe wants nothing to do with
this is the end when my eyes scan
up and down
and up and down
but it doesn't
mean that this motherfucking poem
isn't a heart: split 'em!
paean to what me and them and you
and the rest of the world can do
even for a long-assed head-bobbing
summation of the moment
when all the weirdness is pooling
and the pituitary's drooling
down the CNS
There's nothing better than right now.
Stand back
head back
bask in the tracks and strings and ho
liness of what makes you smile unabashed.
Awe.
Yeah.
---
This shitty poem is dedicated to, in no particular order:
my fiance, Saint Arnold beer, shit poetry, growing up nerdy, Orange Kitty, Matt "Scientist"/"Poet" Swulius, the first frustrating hour of Phantasy Star II, Red Pine, 8-Bit Boys, Youtube videos, studying Chinese, fresh headphones, Last.fm on Netflix on Xbox360, all the other loves of my life, and yours fuckin' truly.
Live life, but no more than conscience dictates. Don't do what I've done and let the past capture and paralyze your imagination. Don't sweat perfection. Good times are now Dissect the past like the Renaissance man dissected human bodies. Learn. Right now is it, and this is it.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Scott's Stash: Maiden America
Today's edition of "Scott's Stash" covers one album and eleven bands:
V/A- Maiden America- Iron Maiden Tribute & American Metal Compilation
This is a two-disc set: the first being a series of Iron Maiden covers by underground and/or lesser-known American metal bands c. 1999, and the second being original songs by those bands. I haven't listened to the second disc, because I didn't know it was included until I was halfway through the Maiden covers disc, and I went into this album with Iron Maiden on the brain. Maybe I'll write up the second disc sometime, but don't hold your breath.
In the paragraph above I mentioned "American metal bands." This simultaneously means "metal bands from the United States" and "bands that play American heavy metal," which in turn means, by my lazy and imprecise definition, "heavy metal inspired by late '70s metal, the NWOBHM, and offshoots thereof such as thrash and speed metal, melding the lot into what might also be termed 'traditional metal'."
Enough heavy metal etymology. I'd venture to guess that my brother got this album from one of the Agalloch dudes when he was a regular correspondent with/web designer for them. Agalloch, one of the greatest bands ever, shares members with Sculptured, who appear on Maiden America and whose debut album I remember seeing reviewed in the pages of Sentinel Steel.* Sculptured provides the only really memorable cover here, pretty much by virtue of being Sculptured- i.e., the weird metal-jazz band on the compilation that doesn't sound "like Maiden if Maiden had a different vocalist/guitar tone/faster riffs/whatever."
Not to say that the other bands suck, because they don't. There are some good covers here; hell, they're all competent, but the problem is that they're almost all forgettable. Even when there's something that stands out- Final Prayer's growling intro to "Killers," the quicker pace of Twisted Tower Dire's "Powerslave," Sadus being Sadus on "Invaders," and what I'll call the standard-plus (or Standard+) approach to "Hallowed Be Thy Name" provided by Edenrot- the compilation as a whole suffers from half-assed production and a slavish love of the source material. These factors combine to give the impression that the bands played their hearts out of songs they love, but under horrible recording conditions and without any interest in or ability to make these Iron Maiden songs their own.
I hate saying things like that because the bands involved inevitably sound like amateurs. I don't think that's the case here, because the musicianship is completely up to snuff with the original Iron Maiden songs; there's just not the level of individuality I like to see on tribute albums. (See Nativity In Black, where the songs were identifiable as Black Sabbath tunes, but with the artist's own spin on them.) There are flashes of it here and there, and the bands don't all sound the same, but there's an undeniable similarity across the board. Sculptured, and to a lesser degree Sadus and Edenrot, are the exceptions.
I admire the spirit that went into this. Iron Maiden is a force of nature in the metal world, and the bands on this compilation proved their appreciation. They just did a relatively undistinguished job of it, which is hard to fault given the constraints of the album's theme.
The more I think about it, the more likely it is I'll give disc two of this album a spin. No, scratch that- I'll look into the bands' own work. I'm really curious to see how everyone does for themselves without having to try and live up to Iron Maiden.
And, honestly, I'm looking forward to the next album in my brother's collection.
*I think. According to the Encylopedia Metallum, Sculptured's first album wasn't released until 1998, when I would'nt have had access to Sentinel Steel, but I could swear I saw it mentioned or discussed before then. Who knows; memory is a fickle and untrustworthy thing.
V/A- Maiden America- Iron Maiden Tribute & American Metal Compilation
This is a two-disc set: the first being a series of Iron Maiden covers by underground and/or lesser-known American metal bands c. 1999, and the second being original songs by those bands. I haven't listened to the second disc, because I didn't know it was included until I was halfway through the Maiden covers disc, and I went into this album with Iron Maiden on the brain. Maybe I'll write up the second disc sometime, but don't hold your breath.
In the paragraph above I mentioned "American metal bands." This simultaneously means "metal bands from the United States" and "bands that play American heavy metal," which in turn means, by my lazy and imprecise definition, "heavy metal inspired by late '70s metal, the NWOBHM, and offshoots thereof such as thrash and speed metal, melding the lot into what might also be termed 'traditional metal'."
Enough heavy metal etymology. I'd venture to guess that my brother got this album from one of the Agalloch dudes when he was a regular correspondent with/web designer for them. Agalloch, one of the greatest bands ever, shares members with Sculptured, who appear on Maiden America and whose debut album I remember seeing reviewed in the pages of Sentinel Steel.* Sculptured provides the only really memorable cover here, pretty much by virtue of being Sculptured- i.e., the weird metal-jazz band on the compilation that doesn't sound "like Maiden if Maiden had a different vocalist/guitar tone/faster riffs/whatever."
Not to say that the other bands suck, because they don't. There are some good covers here; hell, they're all competent, but the problem is that they're almost all forgettable. Even when there's something that stands out- Final Prayer's growling intro to "Killers," the quicker pace of Twisted Tower Dire's "Powerslave," Sadus being Sadus on "Invaders," and what I'll call the standard-plus (or Standard+) approach to "Hallowed Be Thy Name" provided by Edenrot- the compilation as a whole suffers from half-assed production and a slavish love of the source material. These factors combine to give the impression that the bands played their hearts out of songs they love, but under horrible recording conditions and without any interest in or ability to make these Iron Maiden songs their own.
I hate saying things like that because the bands involved inevitably sound like amateurs. I don't think that's the case here, because the musicianship is completely up to snuff with the original Iron Maiden songs; there's just not the level of individuality I like to see on tribute albums. (See Nativity In Black, where the songs were identifiable as Black Sabbath tunes, but with the artist's own spin on them.) There are flashes of it here and there, and the bands don't all sound the same, but there's an undeniable similarity across the board. Sculptured, and to a lesser degree Sadus and Edenrot, are the exceptions.
I admire the spirit that went into this. Iron Maiden is a force of nature in the metal world, and the bands on this compilation proved their appreciation. They just did a relatively undistinguished job of it, which is hard to fault given the constraints of the album's theme.
The more I think about it, the more likely it is I'll give disc two of this album a spin. No, scratch that- I'll look into the bands' own work. I'm really curious to see how everyone does for themselves without having to try and live up to Iron Maiden.
And, honestly, I'm looking forward to the next album in my brother's collection.
*I think. According to the Encylopedia Metallum, Sculptured's first album wasn't released until 1998, when I would'nt have had access to Sentinel Steel, but I could swear I saw it mentioned or discussed before then. Who knows; memory is a fickle and untrustworthy thing.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
High of semntysome'n.
It's begun: the light is falling differently as the seasons shift, and my brain moves accordingly. I love this time of year, these lengthening sunsets, the sense of manageable urgency as days fade into nights that, when I was younger, felt like new phases of the day, but as of late are over before I know it, in bed by 11 PM and nodding off over a page of Mason & Dixon or In Search of Lost Time.
Doesn't matter, this shit is still pretty rad. I hope you think so too. Enjoy your spring, folks.
DAS
now playing: Brant Bjork, Gods and Goddesses
Doesn't matter, this shit is still pretty rad. I hope you think so too. Enjoy your spring, folks.
DAS
now playing: Brant Bjork, Gods and Goddesses
Monday, March 07, 2011
Scott's Stash: The Dark Saga
Today, folks, I'm listening to...
Iced Earth- The Dark Saga (1996)
I don't know who was responsible for my brother getting heavily into Iced Earth not long after we moved back to Texas in 1997, but they deserve a handshake. While never groundbreaking, Iced Earth was (and still is, at least the last time I heard them) a solid metal band with roots in traditional American metal. Their endless parade of band members has, vocalists aside, never seemed to hurt the band, because sole original member Jon Schaffer has always stuck to his guns.
Anyway, The Dark Saga is Iced Earth's fourth album, and second with Matt Barlow, who's been the best singer they've ever had. It's a strong album- again, there are no great surprises- until the last three songs, which are components of a greater song called "The Suffering." This trio of songs packs less punch than the rest of the album ("The Hunter," where I really dig the drumwork, and "Vengeance is Mine" stand out) and things lose some steam. It's a shame, because the first seven songs keep up a good pace. "The Suffering" strikes me as a forerunner to some of IE's later multi-song concept pieces, none of which really worked that well for me. Don't think I'm saying the last 30% of The Dark Saga sucks, because it definitely doesn't- it's just not as good as the rest of the album.
All in all, this is a metal album you can throw on without being blown away or disappointed by. Better than background music, but nothing you really need to wrap your head around. Dependable records like this aren't exactly rare, but there never seem to be enough of 'em.
P.S. The whole album is a concept album, really- or maybe I should call it a thematic record. What's the theme? Spawn. As in "Todd McFarlane's," "Image Comics," "parodied in the pages of Cerebus," "made into a shitty movie" Spawn. Don't sweat it too much. It works well enough, and this is heavy metal, after all.
Iced Earth- The Dark Saga (1996)
I don't know who was responsible for my brother getting heavily into Iced Earth not long after we moved back to Texas in 1997, but they deserve a handshake. While never groundbreaking, Iced Earth was (and still is, at least the last time I heard them) a solid metal band with roots in traditional American metal. Their endless parade of band members has, vocalists aside, never seemed to hurt the band, because sole original member Jon Schaffer has always stuck to his guns.
Anyway, The Dark Saga is Iced Earth's fourth album, and second with Matt Barlow, who's been the best singer they've ever had. It's a strong album- again, there are no great surprises- until the last three songs, which are components of a greater song called "The Suffering." This trio of songs packs less punch than the rest of the album ("The Hunter," where I really dig the drumwork, and "Vengeance is Mine" stand out) and things lose some steam. It's a shame, because the first seven songs keep up a good pace. "The Suffering" strikes me as a forerunner to some of IE's later multi-song concept pieces, none of which really worked that well for me. Don't think I'm saying the last 30% of The Dark Saga sucks, because it definitely doesn't- it's just not as good as the rest of the album.
All in all, this is a metal album you can throw on without being blown away or disappointed by. Better than background music, but nothing you really need to wrap your head around. Dependable records like this aren't exactly rare, but there never seem to be enough of 'em.
P.S. The whole album is a concept album, really- or maybe I should call it a thematic record. What's the theme? Spawn. As in "Todd McFarlane's," "Image Comics," "parodied in the pages of Cerebus," "made into a shitty movie" Spawn. Don't sweat it too much. It works well enough, and this is heavy metal, after all.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Scott's Stash: Introduction/Triarchy of the Lost Lovers
Before my brother hit the road for California, he asked me if I wanted his CD collection. Not only has he embraced digital storage of music more than I, he didn't want the hassle of packing so many CDs. I haven't counted them, but there are probably a couple hundred. Like me, my brother is a metalhead, so I was eager to take the discs off his hands.
Some of them I already own, but there are a lot I don't; there are also many I've heard over the years, but don't remember. And, best of all, there are plenty I've never heard at all- things I didn't know my brother had, stuff his friend Drew gave him, or CDs I'd see around the house or in his room that I never got around to checking out. Now's my chance.
My plan is to listen to as many of Scott's old albums as I can- ones that aren't duplicates of things I have in my collection, or dumb shit like U2, the presence of which is Drew's fault, according to my brother- and write a little bit about each one. Not reviews, necessarily, just some thoughts about the music and all the things that come with listening to music. Since I'm quitting my job next week, time shouldn't be much of an obstacle, so I hope to make this a regular feature.
First up: Rotting Christ- Triarchy of the Lost Lovers (1996)
A name I've known for a while, Rotting Christ has nonetheless never received much of my attention. I know I listened to this album at least once- the band's name and the cover art all but guaranteed that- but that would've been sometime in the late '90s. I always think of my old friend Fran when I think of Rotting Christ; I recall he was a big fan.
A name I've known for a while, Rotting Christ has nonetheless never received much of my attention. I know I listened to this album at least once- the band's name and the cover art all but guaranteed that- but that would've been sometime in the late '90s. I always think of my old friend Fran when I think of Rotting Christ; I recall he was a big fan.
This album is really good. Mid-paced black metal from a period when black metal was starting to inform other metal styles and vice-versa. It's neither raw and simplistic nor symphonic and overblown; Rotting Christ has something unique going on here, though maybe someone more well-versed in Greek black metal could contest that. I thought the overall tempo would wear on me, but the songwriting and the understated atmosphere keep things interesting. Some great guitar work doesn't hurt, either. Generally speaking, everything works together quite well- I listened to the album twice without feeling like I had to skip a song, which is always a pleasant occurrence.
I hope there's another Rotting Christ album somewhere in the stash. Even if there isn't, this is a good start to this project. Later, folks.
Some of them I already own, but there are a lot I don't; there are also many I've heard over the years, but don't remember. And, best of all, there are plenty I've never heard at all- things I didn't know my brother had, stuff his friend Drew gave him, or CDs I'd see around the house or in his room that I never got around to checking out. Now's my chance.
My plan is to listen to as many of Scott's old albums as I can- ones that aren't duplicates of things I have in my collection, or dumb shit like U2, the presence of which is Drew's fault, according to my brother- and write a little bit about each one. Not reviews, necessarily, just some thoughts about the music and all the things that come with listening to music. Since I'm quitting my job next week, time shouldn't be much of an obstacle, so I hope to make this a regular feature.
First up: Rotting Christ- Triarchy of the Lost Lovers (1996)
A name I've known for a while, Rotting Christ has nonetheless never received much of my attention. I know I listened to this album at least once- the band's name and the cover art all but guaranteed that- but that would've been sometime in the late '90s. I always think of my old friend Fran when I think of Rotting Christ; I recall he was a big fan.
A name I've known for a while, Rotting Christ has nonetheless never received much of my attention. I know I listened to this album at least once- the band's name and the cover art all but guaranteed that- but that would've been sometime in the late '90s. I always think of my old friend Fran when I think of Rotting Christ; I recall he was a big fan.
This album is really good. Mid-paced black metal from a period when black metal was starting to inform other metal styles and vice-versa. It's neither raw and simplistic nor symphonic and overblown; Rotting Christ has something unique going on here, though maybe someone more well-versed in Greek black metal could contest that. I thought the overall tempo would wear on me, but the songwriting and the understated atmosphere keep things interesting. Some great guitar work doesn't hurt, either. Generally speaking, everything works together quite well- I listened to the album twice without feeling like I had to skip a song, which is always a pleasant occurrence.
I hope there's another Rotting Christ album somewhere in the stash. Even if there isn't, this is a good start to this project. Later, folks.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Edge of nowhere.
Awesome, yet rough, night. My mind moves back to where I want to be, where I'll never be. Heart swells to a tune that I'll probably never fully share. It's all views from 45 here, dreaming about what happens in that house I've never truly left...
There's no going back, but fuck me if I don't feel like I'm some kind of traitor if I don't try. Synthesis is inadequate. So is everything else.
Sleep now. Read Edward Whittemore's books. ASAP.
There's no going back, but fuck me if I don't feel like I'm some kind of traitor if I don't try. Synthesis is inadequate. So is everything else.
Sleep now. Read Edward Whittemore's books. ASAP.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Otra vez.
Classes start tomorrow. I'm staying up late tonight out of principle, by which I mean "in defiance of common sense." I've barely kept up with my Chinese over the past month, and while my on-and-off-again studies have surprised me with how much I've retained, my active memory feels atrophied. There's a precedent for this- last winter break, to be precise, and the yawning chasm that is the summer between semesters- so I'm not terribly worried. That said, I am worried, because I've established a good reputation in the Chinese Studies department and I don't want to let it slip due to laziness.
Ah, laziness, the most underrated of virtues and most maligned of vices. I'm almost ashamed to say that I'm unsure whether I've used this weblog to expound on laziness in the past, but that's probably the case. At the moment I'm not inclined to do so, because the Ourobouros of idleness refuses to let go of its tail, which leaves me here at two-something in the morning, relishing the last minutes of this long interstitial period, its attendant heavy metal and beer dregs and exhausted wonder...
This is it, folks. This is how it's always been and always will be.
Ah, laziness, the most underrated of virtues and most maligned of vices. I'm almost ashamed to say that I'm unsure whether I've used this weblog to expound on laziness in the past, but that's probably the case. At the moment I'm not inclined to do so, because the Ourobouros of idleness refuses to let go of its tail, which leaves me here at two-something in the morning, relishing the last minutes of this long interstitial period, its attendant heavy metal and beer dregs and exhausted wonder...
This is it, folks. This is how it's always been and always will be.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Your humble Corpse as husband-to-be.
Yep, I'm getting married.
I've been with Tracey for almost four years now, and it's been great. So great that, after several months of serious thought, I asked her to marry me last week. It wasn't a grandiose, romantic thing- that's not really my style, and the proposal was as much a result of circumstances as deliberation- but it felt right, and still does. I love this woman dearly, and I easily see us spending our lives together.
It's an interesting and exciting time, but not in a conventional sense: I'm not a giddy twentysomething in the throes of heady romance, but rather a dude who's immensely lucky to have had several years of solid happiness with another person. Marriage will be a continuation, and deepening, of that happiness, and that's what I find awesome. Of course, it's not exciting only on my end; if I wasn't sure that she felt the same, I'd be far more nervous than I am. (To my delight, I'm not really nervous at all, except when I contemplate all the logistical worries that come with impending marriage.) We're a great pair made of a couple solid individuals, and the overlay of the two will make for a fulfilling life together.
I'm stoked. So is Tracey. So are our friends. This is gonna be a blast.
Catch y'all soon. Love always.
-DAS
I've been with Tracey for almost four years now, and it's been great. So great that, after several months of serious thought, I asked her to marry me last week. It wasn't a grandiose, romantic thing- that's not really my style, and the proposal was as much a result of circumstances as deliberation- but it felt right, and still does. I love this woman dearly, and I easily see us spending our lives together.
It's an interesting and exciting time, but not in a conventional sense: I'm not a giddy twentysomething in the throes of heady romance, but rather a dude who's immensely lucky to have had several years of solid happiness with another person. Marriage will be a continuation, and deepening, of that happiness, and that's what I find awesome. Of course, it's not exciting only on my end; if I wasn't sure that she felt the same, I'd be far more nervous than I am. (To my delight, I'm not really nervous at all, except when I contemplate all the logistical worries that come with impending marriage.) We're a great pair made of a couple solid individuals, and the overlay of the two will make for a fulfilling life together.
I'm stoked. So is Tracey. So are our friends. This is gonna be a blast.
Catch y'all soon. Love always.
-DAS
Friday, January 07, 2011
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
2011!
Happy New Year, folks.
So far, so good. New Zealand wine, a late night banging out what will be the first of many projects for the year, Type O Negative mini-marathon through the new headphones... yeah, so far so good.
Other folks have expressed great expectations for 2011, but I honestly have no clue what I expect from this year. Nothing, really: I'll take it as it comes, though I won't say I have no hopes for the next 360-odd days. I'm just not sure what they are.
For now, I'll just say all hail Type O Negative's version of "Paranoid" and writing, which go hand in hand in the small hours.
So far, so good. New Zealand wine, a late night banging out what will be the first of many projects for the year, Type O Negative mini-marathon through the new headphones... yeah, so far so good.
Other folks have expressed great expectations for 2011, but I honestly have no clue what I expect from this year. Nothing, really: I'll take it as it comes, though I won't say I have no hopes for the next 360-odd days. I'm just not sure what they are.
For now, I'll just say all hail Type O Negative's version of "Paranoid" and writing, which go hand in hand in the small hours.
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