This is the last day of 34 years' worth of days.

Since I'll be 35 in six and a half hours or so, I thought I'd chime in with some observations about life as a dude who hasn't quite reached the median age for white males of his particular nationality.

 (Some of these things are knowledge gained since my 30th birthday; most of them are slight variations on the same slack-jawed opinions I've held for a decade or more. In some cases, those opinions are watertight to the point of being balls-out facts, and should be identifiable as such; arguments against will be regarded as evidence of mental deficiency on the part of the arguer. Under no circumstances should anything I say be taken as gospel, save for those words which are pure scripture, of which there are far more than one would imagine.)

-English is a pretty awesome language, primarily because it knows how flexible it can be in terms of grammar and its absorption of foreign words and terms. Other languages are just as flexible, however; thinking only of those of which I feel I have a decent understanding, Spanish, Portuguese, and Mandarin are all equally chock full of loanwords and comparative homonyms. (Please don't let my own ignorance stop you, dear reader, from finding examples of your own.) English has particular words that are utterly amazing: among my favorites are sigh, wreckage, hoard, sword, eave, roof, lamp, betwixt... the point is, it doesn't matter. Every language has a bevy (add that to the aforementioned list of awesome English words) of words that are just fucking awesome, and the full comprehension of which requires some knowledge of the native tongue. Long story short, learn thine own tongue well, and learn others as equally as circumstances allow.

-Heavy metal, as Helloween and I have both stated repeatedly, is the law.

 -Sleep (the band, and the experience, too, though the latter isn't under discussion here) is still deserving of a church dedicated to their music. If I ever find myself alone in the world and in possession of serious funds, I will erect a temple in which the massive hymn known to the world as "Dopesmoker" or "Jerusalem" is always played, to be accompanied by censers of the finest ganja swung by priests of the highest, and highest, caliber.
 
-With age, friendship becomes an increasingly valuable commodity, supplanted as it can be by family ties, work, and distance. I've long valued friendship as one of the greatest of human endeavours, since it is not based solely upon biology or habit, and is one of the most underrated and under-described of relationships. It's a shame, seeing as how since friendship requires- or at least implies- an equality rarely required of other relationships. Friendship can be boon or bane, but for those who take part of it, the benefits or disadvantages do not matter, and that is wherein lies its greatness: hearts and minds are tethered, by choice, to a common purpose, and severing such a bond is no easy task.

-H. Bruce Franklin's introduction to Herman Melville's Mardi is wont to make one put said novel down before reading it. Fortunately, for those with stronger literary constitutions, the book is somewhat easier reading than the insane introduction would have one believe. (I may change my mind once I'm further along in the book, of course.)

-If you want to lift weights at home, use kettlebells.

-Smoking is fantastic, but it's probably a good idea to quit.

-Read more.

-Read more. (Redundant, surely, but it's the best advice I could ever give.)

-MC Lars rules. So do MC Frontalot, YTCracker, and Adam Warrock: all of them have written songs that have helped yours truly get through some hard times, and I all but guarantee that if you look, you'll find one that'll help you too. Nerdcore is rising, perpetually. Disagree? Format c:/ and move along.

-I've learned to dress well over the past few years. One aspect of putting your sartorial shit together is shoes. The Corpse recommends Sawa Shoes, which may cost a few more bones than you're used to paying for casual footwear, but trust me, motherfucker, they're as comfortable and durable as they come, and far more stylish that you are capable of appreciating at first glance. These shoes are awesome, end of story.

-"Don't be a dick, be a dude!" You will always underestimate, usually without knowing it, how much you value folks. Not just friends, but family, coworkers, acquaintances, enemies, significant others, friends' significant others, relatives, pets, waitstaff, mail carriers, apartment managers, bartenders, neighbors, the dudes (m/f) at convenience stores. Say hey to them all, treat them as people, give 'em the thumbs up or a high five. We're all dudes, and a world with more dudes than dicks is a better world.

- Be kind to animals. Whether or not you eat them, you can't go wrong acknowledging the inherent dignity of nonhuman species. Decency toward animals, I've found, usually reflects in decency toward humans. (Note that I say "usually".)

-"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Love is the law, love under will."

34 down, 51 to go. Later, folks, and thanks for sticking around with me for as long as you have.

Your friend,
D.A. Smith

Possessed by the Wrath of the Ale Whores of the Staffordshire Hoard, or, Some Thoughts on Symbel

A couple years ago, when I wrote about the Astral Rune Bastards album I liked so much, I mentioned that Sceot Arcwielder, the dude responsible for it, was a member of Bretwaldas of Heathen Doom. He's also the sole member of Symbel, an outfit (if a one-man operation can be called such) whose songs specialize in, to quote part of their first album's title, "hymns and counsel of Anglo-Saxon heathenry". I've enjoyed Symbel since I started listening to them, though if forced to choose a Sceot Arcwielder project I'd probably pick Bretwaldas. Symbel has been patchy in its output, with too many memorable choruses or riffs watered down by generic pagan/black metal passages. Ale Whores of Mercia and We Drink- Hymns and Counsel of Anglo-Saxon Heathenry are by no means bad, but they're not masterpieces, either: they're unsophisticated and raw, and the songwriting and performance sometimes just barely competent, as one would expect from such an atavistic celebration of pre-Norman England. If you aren't already into this kind of metal, style- and production-wise, Symbel could be either a great or terrible introduction, and I encourage you to find out for yourself. Read the next paragraphs before you do so, however- not because it invalidates Symbel's early work, but because I have more to say about what comes after the aforementioned albums.

In 2013 Symbel released Gyddigg- Possessed by the Fury of Wod. The production is better, the songwriting stronger (but still not perfect, as many songs are longer than they probably need to be), and the dedication to pre-Christian heathenry as vital as ever. Heavy metal's penchant for history is one of my favorite things about this kind of music, and Symbel, for all their faults, don't fail to deliver the historical goods. The dude from Astral Rune Bastards who spent so much time watching the X-Files and looking for UFOs in an English field also clearly spent way more time in museums, archives, and the English countryside learning about the history of his country- experience he applied to Symbel.

Nowhere is this more obvious than in the song "Folded Cross", which was released only a couple days ago as part of the Hammerwych EP. Based on the recent discovery of the Staffordshire hoard of Anglo-Saxon artifacts, "Folded Cross" is Symbel evolved. The production is along the lines of that heard on Gyddigg, which makes sense as it was part of those recording sessions, yet there's something about this song as a whole that just fucking nails it- "it" being that intangible chord buried so centrally in the hearts of all metalheads that when struck forces fists into the air, beers down gullets, and hearts to surge with excitement and passion. I like to think of myself as a rational, reasonable dude, but "Folded Cross" makes me want to pledge my proverbial sword to the pagan king of Mercia, who is the subject of the song, and stand against the encroaching Christian masses. That's what good heavy metal does.

Symbel may never rank among the greatest of pagan metal bands, but who cares? Paganism isn't about conformity, and it's certainly not about polish. If it was, chumps would still be erecting temples to Athena, Saturn, and all the other god/desses who demanded as much time, effort, and devotion as the impaled Nazarene (GET IT? GET IT?) who has commanded so much of the world's attention for the past two millennia. As far as I'm concerned, gods are only as good as the art they inspire, and by that standard, whatever deities Sceot Arcwielder worships are doing themselves a favor by imparting increasingly promising gifts of music upon this particular mortal follower. Symbel rules, and it looks as if that will be the case for a while. Here's to more heathen drinking metal!

Later,

D.A. Smith