Velvet Cacoon never fail to fascinate me. I think this is the transcription of a taped conversation between the two members, SGL and LVG. Read it, and think about why or why not you like drugs, among other things. Then go get your hands on all the Velvet Cacoon material you can.

By the way, I don't know how long the VC piece will be up, so check it out while you can.

The new issue of McSweeney's is a veritable work of art. When it comes to anything other than books and albums, I could care less about packaging, but man, when I opened my first issue of my McSweeney's subscription today, I was blown away. On top of that, the stories I've read thus far have been nae shabby.

I think I'm gonna use some of my vacation time, once (or if) I get it, and go up to Uncle Smitty's for a few days. I'll borrow Scott's laptop, buy a case of beer and a few packs of Luckies, and chip in for groceries. I could use a little isolation, as well as my uncle's company.

"Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am flight 103"

Fuckin' A. All hail the GZA.

"I can't fold
I need gold
read up and reload
product must be sold to you"

If I wasn't so lazy, and wouldn't wake up my brother once he goes to sleep, I'd get fucked up and listen to Unearthly Trance's In the Red at high volume. But since I am lazy, I'll just listen to it here in front of my computer and sip bourbon.

I'm always pleased to come home from work and find my brother still awake. He's always got something cool to say or show off, like this. He also brought home, courtesy of Van Cleve, seasons five and two of Buffy and Angel, respectively. My all-time-low productivity will only plummet further now. Or will it? I've actually got going again, kind of, with Unheimlich.

Whee.

I've come to the conclusion that as long as I have a job, Sunday night will never be fully enjoyable, especially at 3 AM. Funny how the real dread is purely quotidian and not at all cosmic or metaphysical- at least on Sunday nights.

I wish I had some Angel or Buffy to watch.

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I can safely say that I don't buy much in the way of useless shit- the last random non-alcohol/tobacco/music/book/food thing that I can remember purchasing was a 45 adapter for my turntable- so I hope that this guy doesn't hate me.

Spot on, in typical Onion fashion.

Another low-key weekend, which is pretty much just what I needed. Read a lot, played GTA: San Andreas, even wrote some. The only bad thing is that I'm some kinda broke; I had to take money out of savings just to make it to payday. I have learned to appreciate that extra stash of dough, which isn't something I had until last month.

Lots of Opeth being played these days; some right now, as a matter of fact. Hopefully it'll help me get a couple more pages done before I retire to read and prepare myself for another pyschologically enervating week of work.

Well, it's summertime again. Being in the West Alabama apartment again makes me think of the first summer I spent here, two years ago. I definitely miss those couple months of unemployment and writing and excitement over the impending publication of Axis Mundi Sum.

Last summer was all about being laid back. I think this one will be too, but in a different way. Different how, I don't know, but with each sweaty, desparate day that passes, I hope to be that much closer to figuring it out.

I've been reading here and there that voice actors for video games are threatening to strike unless they get a share of profits from the games they lend their talents to. These actors are, of course, unionized, which is probably the only reason they can make such a demand. Apparently, some of the folks who are bitching and moaning about this are the folks who actually make the games, who also want a cut of the profits. This is fair, if you ask me, but:

Boo fuckin' hoo. Yeah, your labor conditions fucking suck, we know, but you know what? If you want a cut, stop working 80 hours a week for peanuts and either join a union or form one of your own. Who gives a fuck about the possibility of strikes ("oh no, it means I can't work!") and spending time negotiating contracts? Just fucking do it, and if you do it right, you've got nothing to do but get ahead. Besides, if your unionization means that the cost of the end product goes up, and possibly forces production to Europe or Asia or wherever, so be it. If you're so fucking worried about creativity, and you find out that some underpaid dude in China or Holland is making quality games, fine. You know what you can do? Urge him to organize his workplace too. Fuck, people, just cough up your union dues every month and guarantee yourselves some fucking security and decent compensation for working on crap games.

Yeah, this is an incoherent mash of thoughts, but it boils down to a couple things. One: if you hate your working conditions, either quit or unionize (or, if you're unionized, bust your ass to renegotiate your contract, or join a different union). Two: shit changes. You may join the union, watch things go well for a while, and then watch someone across the pond take your job. It happens. The same thing will happen to them sooner or later. It's not a very comforting thought in the short term, but you know what? History doesn't care how you feel, and if you do what you can, maybe you can at least some kind of mark and make things better for someone- be it yourself, a family member, or a complete stranger- somewhere down the line.

While I wish the best for everyone in the here and now, I just can't get worked up over the fate of one particular nation, group, or whatever when I think in terms of history and the future. Que será, será, folks. Protect what you love while you can, but don't expect it to last forever.

Listening to this radio interview with Al Cisneros and Chris Hakius from Om (and formerly of Sleep) makes me think that I'm hearing Dave Kennedy, kind of. It's the very level voice.

A perfectly good weekend of solitude was ruined by blowing out a tire on my brother's Jeep yesterday. When the spare was put on, it promptly kicked the bucket too, forcing me to leave the Jeep at Midas until tomorrow, since nobody's working today. Except me, that is; God forbid someone get their Greensheet a day late.

I hung out with my pops all day Friday. Matt, Sara, and Van Cleve stopped by at various points, and it was a damned fine day. Not socializing Saturday and Sunday was also ideal, though I failed to get much reading done, sucked in by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel as I was. I think that once I'm done watching the fourth and first seasons of each show, respectively, I'm going to have to take a break in order to get anything done. That said, when the time comes for another burst of actively passive consumption, I know where to go.

As a parting gift, here is Li Po's poem "Waking Up Drunk On A Spring Day," taken from Five T'ang Poets, translated by David Young, Oberlin College Press, 1990.


Life is a huge dream
why work so hard?

all day long I drink
laying outside the front door

awakening
looking up through the trees
in the garden

and one bird singing in the flowers

bird, what season is this?
"Spring! I'm a mango bird
and the spring wind makes me sing."

now I grow sad
very sad

so I have some more wine
and I sing
out loud
until the bright moon
rises

what was I upset about?
I can't remember

For no real reason, I dug out my WWI-era helmet an hour or so ago and have been wearing it since. I reckon I should get used to the discomfort, seeing as how I'll be wearing it often when either a revolution breaks out, the country is put under martial law, or zombies walk the streets. Of course, while the helmet is advantageous item to have on hand, I'd almost be willing to trade it for several thousand rounds of ammunition for my Kalashnikov. Zombie teeth and misguided bullets may bounce off of the old tin hat, but being able to drop flesh-eaters and counterrevolutionaries at a distance is invaluable.

Lines from Tu Fu:

Failure after failure continues to the present,
And he will have to contend with ending in the dust.
Regretting that he did not imitate the best hermits,
who could not be made to leave their hermitages.

...

Like the dragon not settled in one place,
Or the brown crane that soared through the skies,
The able and wise have from ancient times
Not let their freedom be curtailed by circumstance.
I, however, am only a short-sighted and unwise man.

...

I should find out if Ezra Pound ever translated Tu Fu.

Apologies for the Johannes de Silentio routine as of late, but I haven't wanted to spend much time in front of the infernal machine these days. When I have been at the computer, I've kept it short. I did manage to finish putting together all the shit I needed to send Critical Hits off to some publishers, however, so I do have proof that the past week hasn't been all Jade Empire and 7.62x39 mm.

Unheimlich seems to have stalled, at least digitally. I'm still writing out a fair amount of notes on paper, but they haven't coalesced into anything really tangible, and I'm starting to think that my energy might be better spent elsewhere, at least for a little while. I'll have to wait and see.

My apologies for the brevity, but I want to find something else to do right now. Not having to worry about writing query letters and such has taken a load off my mind.

All nocturnal activity will cease until I am finished playing Jade Empire.

Man, I'm fucked. If it isn't one distraction, it's another.

My brother and I were talking earlier about how both of us have a handful of distractions that have recently come our way, mainly in the form of DVDs (Star Trek: TNG and Buffy) and video games (Vice City, Jade Empire). Both of us are aware that such distractions will lead us into lengthy periods of inactivity and couch-warming, the thought of which is neither entirely unpleasant nor really that compelling.

Of course, it really is compelling. Aside from taking care of Critical Hits-related stuff by the end of the month, what do I have to do that stops me from simply sitting back and enjoying some relatively passive entertainment? Sure, there's Unheimlich, but I seem to have hit a wall there, and sitting down to stare at the monitor night after night isn't achieving much. So the hell with it; I'll get back to doing "productive" things when I feel like it.

Besides, I'm really tired of being in my room, and the presence of the internet in here just makes it worse.

You won't care because it's about metal, but VENOM ON VINYL=SICK.

No plans for the weekend. I don't think I want to see anyone, with perhaps one or two exceptions. I don't think I want to do anything, really, although sleeping does sound good.

Life can be highly tiresome.