Tracey and I just got back from nine rad days in Hong Kong. Man, what a city. I hope to post some of my journal entries/thoughts in the coming days, either here or on my website (dasmith.freeshell.org), maybe both. Said journal is the handwritten one I've been keeping for a couple months, so it may take some time to transcribe the relevant material. There's other stuff I want to include, too.
As time passes I find myself increasingly aware of the workings of my mind. It's an interesting phenomenon, and I can't tell what the source of it is. I'd wager that it's a combination of things, meditation foremost among them. Maybe one day this growing self-understanding will yield some good writing.
In other news, I was stoked to come home to the long-awaited LP version of MC Lars' Greatest Hits. Can't wait to hear how it sounds; post-punk laptop rap pressed on vinyl and paid for via a Kickstarter campaign is pretty damned 21st century.
Sorry for the general silence. I'll try to fix that. Just as always.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Friday, August 31, 2012
"couple skulls, jug"
Naw, naw, tweren't that sort, tweren't a toothloosener at all.
So what was it?
Twere a shrug, still is. Known what it tweren't more than what twas, that makes sense.
Aye, surely does.
Apophatic, 'tis. Liken it to that line of thinking about the divine.
The ideal word, certes. What else was it not, sides a toothloosener?
Tweren't a seambender. They's known, aye?
More'n care to admit, alas.
Tweren't an illplaced spade, neither.
Never had that particular trouble.
'Tis awful. Awful.
Surely. Hateful in its clumsiness.
Certes. Lessee. Tweren't a seepage. Tweren't wormcrawl. Tweren't replotting.
Venture something?
Can't. Said tweren't, not twas.
Misheard. Statement, not inquiry.
Pray venture forth, then.
Epiphany.
Tweren't.
Theophany.
Certes tweren't. Ventured a far piece, now.
Aye. Twas too close to absurdity's bosom. Pardon.
Given, long as the bottle comes hither.
Gladly. 'Tis an hour ripe for mulling, after all.
Thankee. A lifetime?
Less there's a reckoning before.
Hold, hold, there--
So what was it?
Twere a shrug, still is. Known what it tweren't more than what twas, that makes sense.
Aye, surely does.
Apophatic, 'tis. Liken it to that line of thinking about the divine.
The ideal word, certes. What else was it not, sides a toothloosener?
Tweren't a seambender. They's known, aye?
More'n care to admit, alas.
Tweren't an illplaced spade, neither.
Never had that particular trouble.
'Tis awful. Awful.
Surely. Hateful in its clumsiness.
Certes. Lessee. Tweren't a seepage. Tweren't wormcrawl. Tweren't replotting.
Venture something?
Can't. Said tweren't, not twas.
Misheard. Statement, not inquiry.
Pray venture forth, then.
Epiphany.
Tweren't.
Theophany.
Certes tweren't. Ventured a far piece, now.
Aye. Twas too close to absurdity's bosom. Pardon.
Given, long as the bottle comes hither.
Gladly. 'Tis an hour ripe for mulling, after all.
Thankee. A lifetime?
Less there's a reckoning before.
Hold, hold, there--
Monday, July 30, 2012
Prydes of the X-Men Fans
Dear Kitty Pryde and Kitty Pryde,
Some dude here. You were awesome in the '80s and into the '90s, especially during your Excalibur years. (Still my favorite monthly book ever.) Some foolishness went down since then, but you're still rad. I didn't care much for the X-men movies, but I hear you were important in the last one. Whatever. You're still the incredibly smart chick who can phase through anything and gets to hang out with Nightcrawler and company while providing a much-needed perspective on just about anything, be it basic human relationships to Big Shit, Mutant Variety(tm).
As for you, cute redhead rapper who at least has enough going for her to take her stage name from Colossus' ongoing crush: you are pretty neat too. I look forward to seeing where you go with the things you rap about and your resulting career. I honestly hope you don't end up some internet footnote, dude.
P.S. I like the aesthetics of your "OK Cupid" video and the sound of your version of "Call Me Maybe." As someone who thinks effort is often overrated, it's nice to see someone not trying too goddamn hard.
Man, I wish I had a stack of comics to read right now.
Some dude here. You were awesome in the '80s and into the '90s, especially during your Excalibur years. (Still my favorite monthly book ever.) Some foolishness went down since then, but you're still rad. I didn't care much for the X-men movies, but I hear you were important in the last one. Whatever. You're still the incredibly smart chick who can phase through anything and gets to hang out with Nightcrawler and company while providing a much-needed perspective on just about anything, be it basic human relationships to Big Shit, Mutant Variety(tm).
As for you, cute redhead rapper who at least has enough going for her to take her stage name from Colossus' ongoing crush: you are pretty neat too. I look forward to seeing where you go with the things you rap about and your resulting career. I honestly hope you don't end up some internet footnote, dude.
P.S. I like the aesthetics of your "OK Cupid" video and the sound of your version of "Call Me Maybe." As someone who thinks effort is often overrated, it's nice to see someone not trying too goddamn hard.
Man, I wish I had a stack of comics to read right now.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
A night off.
Visiting the folks. Planned on writing once they called it a night, but nah, I'm just gonna enjoy some YT Cracker through these sound-swallowing headphones, smoke some of the Gauloises Brunes madre brought back from Paris, and kick back.
All. Right.
All. Right.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
An Unpolished Gem of Fascination, or, Why This Astral Rune Bastards Record is Great
I recently got my copy of, among other things, Astral Rune Bastards' Transmissions of Runic Truth from the Event Horizons. When I first planned to put in an order with King Penda Productions, the label this was released on, I was going to buy just a couple hard-to-find Bretwaldas of Heathen Doom releases, but the inclusion of ARB in King Penda's catalog (because, I think, everything they release is related to the Bretwaldas guys) was intriguing enough for me to see what I could find on YouTube. Lo and behold, a quarter-hour later my purchase had expanded.
Simply put, Astral Rune Bastards is my kind of thing. King Penda Productions' site describes it as "Nine tracks of electronic music based on the folk-horror stories of Northern Europe, and the writings of aliens-in-antiquity theorists such as Erich Von Daniken, Brysley Le Poer Trench and Maurice Chatelain." I know the infamous von Däniken only by name and have no idea who the other two are, but if they're lumped in with him, they're probably also awesome crackpots (again, not a complaint, at least not in this context- see below) and members of the Splendid Name Club. What matters here isn't these folks' theories per se, but that their writing, in conjunction with the artist's other interests, has inspired a cool record that, to me, manages to say- without words, as this is an entirely intstrumental album- more than was probably intended.
Transmissions, as I will refer to it from here on, appeals to a lot of my interests, which are scattershot on the best of days, but that's not the reason I enjoy it so much. The alien astronaut theories of von Däniken and Anglo-Saxon heathen folklore are fun to think and read about, sure, but it's the intersection of such seemingly unrelated interests, the music itself, and the resulting imagery it conjures, that really speaks to me. When I listen to it I envision a young dude in possession of a stash of decent weed, some secondhand synthesizers, lots of dog-eared science fiction/conspiracy theory/history/etc. paperbacks, a love for The X-Files, and maybe a crappy dialup connection. He spends a lot of time at home room reading, listening to/making music, and getting high; he also lives in a sufficiently rural environment to have to chance to take long walks through empty fields dotted with ancient ruins, and to lie around watching the night sky in all its glory, wondering not just what's up there, but why.
This young man's life experience and voracious reading and listening habits culminate in Transmissions of Runic Truth from the Event Horizons. The album's title implies historical and cosmic revelation and mystery, and the song titles reinforce this. Revelation is a tricky thing, though, and often intensely personal. I don't know if Sceot Arcwielder, the man behind Astral Rune Bastards, really has discovered the kind of truths songs title like "Saucers Study the Northern Forest Tribes" or "Astral Visitations to Ninth-Century Dorset" imply, but to me as a listener it doesn't matter. (Well, maybe a little, but that's getting away from my point.) What matters to me is that all the things the artist finds fascinating have been assembled into an evocative whole.
The fact that this is a pretty limited release (maybe not so much in terms of the number of CDs pressed, but certainly in terms of exposure) adds a lot to my appreciation of Transmissions. There isn't a big audience for an album of this sort, because not a lot of people would be into outdated-sounding synths that sometimes veer into cheesy territory but usually do a memorable job of creating atmosphere. Despite being released in 2009, Transmissions feels dated in the same way its inspirations feel dated, which is perfect. Von Däniken sold a shitload of books forty years ago, but who pays much attention to him now? Keyboards have evolved tremendously, so why listen to something that sounds like it was made on pawnshop gear? Because when you're fascinated with something, be it an idea or a sound, that's all you need. If other people think your work sounds rough and weird and irrelevant, it's their loss.
It's when I consider the album as a whole- the music, the artwork, the inspirations, the things it conjures in my imagination, the obscurity, and the DIY creative process- that things really click for me. I could be completely wrong about Sceot Arcwielder's motives, interests, and process, but again, it wouldn't matter, because he's made an album that makes my mind move in interesting ways. I like the musical stories being told on Transmissions, and I like the headspace it puts me in, which is much bigger and more complex than I would've expected.
Here's to weirdness, obscurity, and the art that springs from it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to do a little pondering about UFOs and ancient cultures of my own. You can check out Astral Rune Bastards here.
Simply put, Astral Rune Bastards is my kind of thing. King Penda Productions' site describes it as "Nine tracks of electronic music based on the folk-horror stories of Northern Europe, and the writings of aliens-in-antiquity theorists such as Erich Von Daniken, Brysley Le Poer Trench and Maurice Chatelain." I know the infamous von Däniken only by name and have no idea who the other two are, but if they're lumped in with him, they're probably also awesome crackpots (again, not a complaint, at least not in this context- see below) and members of the Splendid Name Club. What matters here isn't these folks' theories per se, but that their writing, in conjunction with the artist's other interests, has inspired a cool record that, to me, manages to say- without words, as this is an entirely intstrumental album- more than was probably intended.
Transmissions, as I will refer to it from here on, appeals to a lot of my interests, which are scattershot on the best of days, but that's not the reason I enjoy it so much. The alien astronaut theories of von Däniken and Anglo-Saxon heathen folklore are fun to think and read about, sure, but it's the intersection of such seemingly unrelated interests, the music itself, and the resulting imagery it conjures, that really speaks to me. When I listen to it I envision a young dude in possession of a stash of decent weed, some secondhand synthesizers, lots of dog-eared science fiction/conspiracy theory/history/etc. paperbacks, a love for The X-Files, and maybe a crappy dialup connection. He spends a lot of time at home room reading, listening to/making music, and getting high; he also lives in a sufficiently rural environment to have to chance to take long walks through empty fields dotted with ancient ruins, and to lie around watching the night sky in all its glory, wondering not just what's up there, but why.
This young man's life experience and voracious reading and listening habits culminate in Transmissions of Runic Truth from the Event Horizons. The album's title implies historical and cosmic revelation and mystery, and the song titles reinforce this. Revelation is a tricky thing, though, and often intensely personal. I don't know if Sceot Arcwielder, the man behind Astral Rune Bastards, really has discovered the kind of truths songs title like "Saucers Study the Northern Forest Tribes" or "Astral Visitations to Ninth-Century Dorset" imply, but to me as a listener it doesn't matter. (Well, maybe a little, but that's getting away from my point.) What matters to me is that all the things the artist finds fascinating have been assembled into an evocative whole.
The fact that this is a pretty limited release (maybe not so much in terms of the number of CDs pressed, but certainly in terms of exposure) adds a lot to my appreciation of Transmissions. There isn't a big audience for an album of this sort, because not a lot of people would be into outdated-sounding synths that sometimes veer into cheesy territory but usually do a memorable job of creating atmosphere. Despite being released in 2009, Transmissions feels dated in the same way its inspirations feel dated, which is perfect. Von Däniken sold a shitload of books forty years ago, but who pays much attention to him now? Keyboards have evolved tremendously, so why listen to something that sounds like it was made on pawnshop gear? Because when you're fascinated with something, be it an idea or a sound, that's all you need. If other people think your work sounds rough and weird and irrelevant, it's their loss.
It's when I consider the album as a whole- the music, the artwork, the inspirations, the things it conjures in my imagination, the obscurity, and the DIY creative process- that things really click for me. I could be completely wrong about Sceot Arcwielder's motives, interests, and process, but again, it wouldn't matter, because he's made an album that makes my mind move in interesting ways. I like the musical stories being told on Transmissions, and I like the headspace it puts me in, which is much bigger and more complex than I would've expected.
Here's to weirdness, obscurity, and the art that springs from it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to do a little pondering about UFOs and ancient cultures of my own. You can check out Astral Rune Bastards here.
Monday, July 02, 2012
明朝的小说/romanza della rinascita
Howdy, folks.
I don't think I've discussed the novel I'm writing, but I do know I've mentioned it, as well as some of the things that got me interested in the subject matter. I didn't touch the book for a long while, but since I graduated (oh yeah, I failed to mention that, too- yours truly now has a B.A. in Chinese Studies) and have become a full-time househusband/slacker/liver-of-the-dream, work has proceeded apace on the novel. I haven't written this much, in the sense of plugging away daily and not giving up, in years. As always, I have no idea if I'll get sick of it and shelve it again, but right now if a day passes without adding a page or two, I feel like a failure, and I spend a lot of time thinking about the book, so I'll take that as a good sign. Sure sounds better than grad school.
Anyhoo. The novel starts in 1528, and deals with two main characters: a Venetian and a Chinese from Fujian. There are some basic similarities between them, 'cause in some ways they both embody aspects of your humble Corpse. 1528 is an interesting year because nothing world-shaking happened in either China (ruled by the Jiajing emperor) or Venice (Doge Andrea Gritti represent!), which makes it tough to tie either character to grand historical events. When I say "tough," that's a good thing; I'm not aiming to mimic Eco's Baudolino, for example, and pretend that Anacleto Stornello or Xiaoyao/Yan Liang'en- my main men- are anything but two dudes who did some interesting things in the context of their times and cultures. Times and cultures, mind you, seen through historical and personal filters, with some flat-out misunderstanding, authorial fiat and "why the hell not?" thrown in.
Anacleto and Xiaoyao aren't the only protagonists. Anacleto's almost anachronistically rebellious, independent sister showed up to the party early on and she's not going anywhere, as far as I can tell. Xiaoyao is currently on his own, but he'll have some traveling companions sooner than later, though something tells me they won't be as trustworthy as Anacleto's sister. I've got a ton of ground to cover- literally and figuratively; the Ottoman Empire, the Portuguese Estado da India, the liminal world of wokou piracy, maybe even the Mughal Empire- so it's hard to tell who will show up, and in what capacity.
Long story short, I'm stoked about this book. I love how much I've learned, and how much more there is to learn, just in order to write it. I love how my own understanding of history, identity, and politics keeps changing as I process the broad strokes and the details of the Renaissance/early modernity/etc. I love seeing my own writing take on characteristics (some good, some bad) that weren't there during the writing of previous novels. Shit, I even love the aforementioned days without writing, because they are reminders that, at long last, the fire has been rekindled and won't be put out easily.
I hope to post later tonight about other things, but if I don't, this isn't a bad contribution for the day. Later, folks!
DAS
I don't think I've discussed the novel I'm writing, but I do know I've mentioned it, as well as some of the things that got me interested in the subject matter. I didn't touch the book for a long while, but since I graduated (oh yeah, I failed to mention that, too- yours truly now has a B.A. in Chinese Studies) and have become a full-time househusband/slacker/liver-of-the-dream, work has proceeded apace on the novel. I haven't written this much, in the sense of plugging away daily and not giving up, in years. As always, I have no idea if I'll get sick of it and shelve it again, but right now if a day passes without adding a page or two, I feel like a failure, and I spend a lot of time thinking about the book, so I'll take that as a good sign. Sure sounds better than grad school.
Anyhoo. The novel starts in 1528, and deals with two main characters: a Venetian and a Chinese from Fujian. There are some basic similarities between them, 'cause in some ways they both embody aspects of your humble Corpse. 1528 is an interesting year because nothing world-shaking happened in either China (ruled by the Jiajing emperor) or Venice (Doge Andrea Gritti represent!), which makes it tough to tie either character to grand historical events. When I say "tough," that's a good thing; I'm not aiming to mimic Eco's Baudolino, for example, and pretend that Anacleto Stornello or Xiaoyao/Yan Liang'en- my main men- are anything but two dudes who did some interesting things in the context of their times and cultures. Times and cultures, mind you, seen through historical and personal filters, with some flat-out misunderstanding, authorial fiat and "why the hell not?" thrown in.
Anacleto and Xiaoyao aren't the only protagonists. Anacleto's almost anachronistically rebellious, independent sister showed up to the party early on and she's not going anywhere, as far as I can tell. Xiaoyao is currently on his own, but he'll have some traveling companions sooner than later, though something tells me they won't be as trustworthy as Anacleto's sister. I've got a ton of ground to cover- literally and figuratively; the Ottoman Empire, the Portuguese Estado da India, the liminal world of wokou piracy, maybe even the Mughal Empire- so it's hard to tell who will show up, and in what capacity.
Long story short, I'm stoked about this book. I love how much I've learned, and how much more there is to learn, just in order to write it. I love how my own understanding of history, identity, and politics keeps changing as I process the broad strokes and the details of the Renaissance/early modernity/etc. I love seeing my own writing take on characteristics (some good, some bad) that weren't there during the writing of previous novels. Shit, I even love the aforementioned days without writing, because they are reminders that, at long last, the fire has been rekindled and won't be put out easily.
I hope to post later tonight about other things, but if I don't, this isn't a bad contribution for the day. Later, folks!
DAS
Monday, June 04, 2012
sliver poem 6.4.12
Wash the sleep from your eyes
and call it a night.
Sun crowns:
Ulthar retreats, synapses collapse,
everyone's shades and your friends
turn in.
There's still tonight.
and call it a night.
Sun crowns:
Ulthar retreats, synapses collapse,
everyone's shades and your friends
turn in.
There's still tonight.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
untitled poem, 5.14.12
The delicate blue gloom
of a wet evening's birth:
sun fleeing, now flown,
cats among the puddles,
the old, welcome mystery
revived.
of a wet evening's birth:
sun fleeing, now flown,
cats among the puddles,
the old, welcome mystery
revived.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
T.O.Y. (Team of the Year)
Another bangin' success at trivia night. Dos Links, one Robertson, one special guest Beasley (Commonwealth of Virginia represent!), and yours truly: the Agents of Orange Kitty. Three nights of trivia, three wins. My friends and wife rule. Getting to hang out with my dearest MWC friend tonight made it all our victory all the sweeter.
Life is cool. Life is all right. Allll. Right.
Lights out, dudes. Hail Acid Witch.
Life is cool. Life is all right. Allll. Right.
Lights out, dudes. Hail Acid Witch.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Lazy exultations.
I've been writing pretty consistently, and I'm a page or two from finishing the first draft of the first of the hardboiled stories I mentioned in my last post. If I hadn't sidetracked myself tonight with exultation- over drink, over a relaxed Saturday night with the cat and my wife, over the impending visit of a very dear friend- I might be done by now.
But exultation, the kind that drives one to lift a glass when there's nobody to share a toast with, the exultation that drives off so much ingrained pessimism, the exultation that never comes often enough, even though so many of our societal influences, from parents to movies to those songs we love to much, tell us it should- that exultation showed itself this evening like a night-blossoming flower, and I have opted to revel in it rather than do much of anything else.
I exult in knit ties. I exult in fireplaces. I exult in Saturday drives with Tracey. I exult in idleness, in well-brewed beer, in comfortable sweaters, in orange kitties, in glimpses of old dwellings and cool drinks of water.
But exultation, the kind that drives one to lift a glass when there's nobody to share a toast with, the exultation that drives off so much ingrained pessimism, the exultation that never comes often enough, even though so many of our societal influences, from parents to movies to those songs we love to much, tell us it should- that exultation showed itself this evening like a night-blossoming flower, and I have opted to revel in it rather than do much of anything else.
I exult in knit ties. I exult in fireplaces. I exult in Saturday drives with Tracey. I exult in idleness, in well-brewed beer, in comfortable sweaters, in orange kitties, in glimpses of old dwellings and cool drinks of water.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
A hardboiled year.
All right, me and the Royal Portable Deluxe have decided that we're going to collaborate on something. As some of you may know, I made my first money from writing when I published a hardboiled detective story in Blue Murder Magazine back in 1999. I don't even remember the title of the story, but I've always liked hardboiled detective fiction- not just reading it, but writing it. I haven't written much of it since college, but now and then I'll read something that makes me think "you've still got some stories in you, self."
I don't know if that's completely true, but I'm on my way to finding out. My goal is to write twelve pulp-style stories this year: presumably one per month, though if I crank 'em out faster, it's all gravy. Now that I've got a typewriter, I can sit down to write without the distractions that come with an internet-connected laptop, and I already notice the difference in terms of productivity (God, I hate that word, but it's apt here). There's something very satisfying about piling up pages next to the typewriter as I finish them, and the visible errors and odd indentations and the like make the typed page a much more attractive artifact than one printed from a computer. Of course, everything I type is just a first draft and will be transferred to a digital format once said drafts are finished- this isn't an exercise in antiquated technology just for the sake of it.
I hope to make each story unique with regards to plot and characters, but I'm not committing myself to anything just yet. I have several ideas, some of them thematically related to different times of the year, but I'm only working on one at a time. That's part of the deal: I won't move onto another story until the previous one is done. I need to work on completing things.
I'll provide more details, and maybe the stories themselves, as they arise. Happy 2012, folks. Take it easy.
I don't know if that's completely true, but I'm on my way to finding out. My goal is to write twelve pulp-style stories this year: presumably one per month, though if I crank 'em out faster, it's all gravy. Now that I've got a typewriter, I can sit down to write without the distractions that come with an internet-connected laptop, and I already notice the difference in terms of productivity (God, I hate that word, but it's apt here). There's something very satisfying about piling up pages next to the typewriter as I finish them, and the visible errors and odd indentations and the like make the typed page a much more attractive artifact than one printed from a computer. Of course, everything I type is just a first draft and will be transferred to a digital format once said drafts are finished- this isn't an exercise in antiquated technology just for the sake of it.
I hope to make each story unique with regards to plot and characters, but I'm not committing myself to anything just yet. I have several ideas, some of them thematically related to different times of the year, but I'm only working on one at a time. That's part of the deal: I won't move onto another story until the previous one is done. I need to work on completing things.
I'll provide more details, and maybe the stories themselves, as they arise. Happy 2012, folks. Take it easy.
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