Induced by a steady stream of Law and Order: CI since 10AM this morning.
That's right, I've been watching Law and Order 8 hours straight.
What can I say, Vincent D'Onofrio is amazing.
12.30.2006
12.29.2006
Ding dong, the witch is dead
Normally I object to negative uses of the word "witch" (how's that for socially conscious?), but I had to make an exception for such an appropriate pop culture reference (sense and pop sensibility, after all).
So what the hell am I talking about?
Saddam Hussein has FINALLY been executed.
A big fat HAHA FUCKHEAD to him, and a nice big congratulatory hug for the Iraqi people (and hell, the rest of the world). Now, don't misunderstand me here; I do NOT support this damn war of George "Shoot First/Ask Later" Bush. But just because it's bullshit doesn't mean an OCCASIONAL good thing won't come out of it. And a dead Saddam is definitely a good thing. Would've been easier to just pop the fucker in the head from a mile or so away, or bomb his house or something, but whatever. Bush will be Bush.
Okay, I'm not going to get all poli-dick-al in this blog, because that wasn't the point. All meandering aside, Saddam's dead, let's go have a beer.
So what the hell am I talking about?
Saddam Hussein has FINALLY been executed.
A big fat HAHA FUCKHEAD to him, and a nice big congratulatory hug for the Iraqi people (and hell, the rest of the world). Now, don't misunderstand me here; I do NOT support this damn war of George "Shoot First/Ask Later" Bush. But just because it's bullshit doesn't mean an OCCASIONAL good thing won't come out of it. And a dead Saddam is definitely a good thing. Would've been easier to just pop the fucker in the head from a mile or so away, or bomb his house or something, but whatever. Bush will be Bush.
Okay, I'm not going to get all poli-dick-al in this blog, because that wasn't the point. All meandering aside, Saddam's dead, let's go have a beer.
12.28.2006
Jenifer pt. deux
Here is the trailer for Jenifer, the sick and disturbing movie I wrote about last night. Not quite as disturbing as watching the whole movie, but it'll give you a taste.
Sex and Sexibility
Yeah, I made that word up. Fuck you.
I've only JUST discovered the story of Jessica Cutler, as well as her blog. I've also ordered her book because I'm a whimsical little bastard prone to spontaneous purchases.
I think I can say she's one of my new heros. First off, her blog is hilarious. This woman is not only beautiful, bright, and a sexpot, she's also got a biting wit and no fear of blunt truth:
"I am not even trying to write a Very Special Xmas blog post. Please girl, this is me, remember? I would sooner live blog my next abortion than post something like this."
Anyone who can make such a tasteless crack, and show absolutely no qualms, about an abortion (a la Fight Club-"I want to have your abortion.") deserves a pat on the back. I, unlike many, appreciate humor directed at or containing sensitive or taboo subjects. Making a subject taboo only adds to the unpleasantness of the subject. But if we're comfortable enough to joke about it, we're more likely to be capable of dealing with it.
Besides, tasteless humor pisses people off, and very few things are more fun than pissing people off over something not worth getting angry over. Unless, of course, it sparks a jihad.
Although, I must admit there was a great deal of ironic humor in the Muslim community's reaction to those Danish comics poking fun at extremist Muslim violence. "How dare you depict Muslims as violent people? We will now break into worldwide rioting, killing innocents and destroying portions of cities, over A FEW FUCKING CARTOONS." I can understand why they feel misjudged. And yes, I know a lot of the big to-do was over the depiction of Muhammed, which is prohibited in Islam. But it was also about the depiction of Muslims as violent. So leave me alone.
I've gotten a tad off track, haven't I?
Anyway, I also love people as open as Ms. Cutler about sex and sexuality and all that. It's inspiring. Most people are such damned prudes on the outside, but it's always the prudiest (nope, not a real word) that are actually the dirtiest. Marilyn Manson wrote about that very thing in one of his pre-worldwide-fame songs, "Wrapped in Plastic." The song is about "...how the typical American family will wrap its couch in plastic and the question, 'Will it keep the dirt out or will it keep the dirt in?'" (Quote taken from his autobiography, The Long Hard Road Out of Hell.") Take Mark Foley, for example. Here's a guy who spearheaded a bill protecting children from internet predators, who actually turns out to be soliciting sex from underage boys online.
This blog is a flawless example of me running around, following every tangent I can, as well as my sarcastic, completely unnecessary defense of myself. Cope.
Basically I think Jessica Cutler rocks, and I'll write about how much her book rocks after I read it. It gets here Wednesday at the latest, so that should be fairly soon.
I'm out for now. Maybe more later. Tangent-running is exhausting.
I've only JUST discovered the story of Jessica Cutler, as well as her blog. I've also ordered her book because I'm a whimsical little bastard prone to spontaneous purchases.
I think I can say she's one of my new heros. First off, her blog is hilarious. This woman is not only beautiful, bright, and a sexpot, she's also got a biting wit and no fear of blunt truth:
"I am not even trying to write a Very Special Xmas blog post. Please girl, this is me, remember? I would sooner live blog my next abortion than post something like this."
Anyone who can make such a tasteless crack, and show absolutely no qualms, about an abortion (a la Fight Club-"I want to have your abortion.") deserves a pat on the back. I, unlike many, appreciate humor directed at or containing sensitive or taboo subjects. Making a subject taboo only adds to the unpleasantness of the subject. But if we're comfortable enough to joke about it, we're more likely to be capable of dealing with it.
Besides, tasteless humor pisses people off, and very few things are more fun than pissing people off over something not worth getting angry over. Unless, of course, it sparks a jihad.
Although, I must admit there was a great deal of ironic humor in the Muslim community's reaction to those Danish comics poking fun at extremist Muslim violence. "How dare you depict Muslims as violent people? We will now break into worldwide rioting, killing innocents and destroying portions of cities, over A FEW FUCKING CARTOONS." I can understand why they feel misjudged. And yes, I know a lot of the big to-do was over the depiction of Muhammed, which is prohibited in Islam. But it was also about the depiction of Muslims as violent. So leave me alone.
I've gotten a tad off track, haven't I?
Anyway, I also love people as open as Ms. Cutler about sex and sexuality and all that. It's inspiring. Most people are such damned prudes on the outside, but it's always the prudiest (nope, not a real word) that are actually the dirtiest. Marilyn Manson wrote about that very thing in one of his pre-worldwide-fame songs, "Wrapped in Plastic." The song is about "...how the typical American family will wrap its couch in plastic and the question, 'Will it keep the dirt out or will it keep the dirt in?'" (Quote taken from his autobiography, The Long Hard Road Out of Hell.") Take Mark Foley, for example. Here's a guy who spearheaded a bill protecting children from internet predators, who actually turns out to be soliciting sex from underage boys online.
This blog is a flawless example of me running around, following every tangent I can, as well as my sarcastic, completely unnecessary defense of myself. Cope.
Basically I think Jessica Cutler rocks, and I'll write about how much her book rocks after I read it. It gets here Wednesday at the latest, so that should be fairly soon.
I'm out for now. Maybe more later. Tangent-running is exhausting.
Jenifer
I just watched a movie that scarred my soul. Permanently.
Jenifer is part of the Showtime Masters of Horror collection. For those of you that don't know, Masters of Horror is a series on Showtime that showcases short films (around an hour) by highly acclaimed horror directors. Low budget kind of stuff, but still effective. Jenifer is the creation of Italian horror virtuoso Dario Argento, and it fucking annihilated my soul.
Warning: Spoilers and soul-crushing disturbing content ahead.
This film is about a bestial girl with a knockout body but a viciously deformed face, complete with a gnarly set of fang teeth. She's essentially an animal, and craves two things- sex and flesh. The story revolves around a detective coming across a lunatic attempting to slaughter a young girl (Jenifer), said detective shooting said lunatic, and detective man taking this poor, deformed, apparently retarded girl into his care. Things start getting weird (as if that's the word) when detective man stops his car during the search for a permanent home for the beast, and beast jumps his bones.
That's right, she fucks his brains out. Apparently having a satanic animal mentality gives you some magical sex powers, because while he's understandably freaked out by the scenario, he's unable to stop. Things get far worse when the pair return to detective man's house, detective man argues with his wife about Jenifer staying another night so he can continue the search for permanent beast housing, and Jenifer first reveals her bloodthirst by disemboweling the family feline with her teeth.
Yeah.
The scene spares you no quarter: family walks into bathroom at sounds of commotion, Jenifer is sitting on the floor swinging the cat's corpse with her mouth and devouring kitty entrails. Fucking brutal.
Needless to say, wifey and sonny are none too happy about this, so they bug out. Jenifer again works her beastly sex magic on detective man that night, further tearing his now-frail psyche. Detective man spends the next day boozing it up, only to return home late that night to find Jenifer devouring the entrails of the 5-7 year old daughter of his neighbors.
Yeah.
Detective man uses his mighty detective powers to reach the conclusion that Jenifer can NOT stay, as she is NOT simply some poor, defenseless, deformed girl with some great T&A. So, like any rational individual with a now permanently scarred soul, he hires some circus bro to break into his house and kidnap her or something. He returns home that evening, an initially is relieved to the point of laughing out loud because the plan seems to have gone as... planned (pardon my lack of appropriate vocabulary right now, I can barely form thoughts after watching this movie). But of course, nothing is right, as he soon discovers the disemboweled, dismembered corpse of circus bro in the fridge (Jenifer didn't want to throw out the leftovers apparently).
This is the last straw, but detective man is too deep in her spell to abandon/kill her, so he takes her and runs away to some far off cabin in the woods (after burying circus bro in the backyard). He boozes himself practically into unconsciousness, has more freaky beast sex with the freaky beast, passes out, and wakes up to go find a job the next day. He finds work in the convenience store dealy in the nearby podunk town, gets friendly with the owner, things start to look up but you KNOW somebody's getting disemboweled soon because there're only 10 minutes left in the movie. Short story shorter, detective man returns home to his cabin to find Jenifer disembowleing and devouring the still-living son of the shop owner, TOTALLY flips out, grabs an axe, and drags Jenifer out into the woods to end the nightmare.
But, kids, this is a horror flick, so there is no resolution. Just as he's about to hack beast bitch to beast pieces, he's shot by a hunter who only sees the same thing detective man saw at the beginning of the movie: lunatic about to cut up innocent girl.
So the movie comes full circle, and ends, and you wish you never watched it.
Spoilers and fucking FREAKY shit end here.
I think this movie ripped my soul so bad because of a combination o things that can be summed up in a single phrase: great direction on the part of Mr. Argento. The movie is almost entirely devoid of the bad ("scary") lighting frequently employed by horror flicks, so the setting is entirely ordinary. Everything is just like the everyday world, except for the glaring issue of a FLESH EATING SEX BEAST. The normalcy of the setting, lighting, etc amplifies the fucking freak out that is Jenifer, and makes everything that happens SO much worse. And the combination of sexpot/entrail-eater just makes your soul want to cry.
Really, I don't think anyone should watch this movie unless they're a hardened horror veteran. Otherwise it'll just inspire a lifetime of nightmares and therapy bills, and nobody needs either of those.
Jenifer: Not for the faint of heart/weak of stomach.
Icky.
Jenifer is part of the Showtime Masters of Horror collection. For those of you that don't know, Masters of Horror is a series on Showtime that showcases short films (around an hour) by highly acclaimed horror directors. Low budget kind of stuff, but still effective. Jenifer is the creation of Italian horror virtuoso Dario Argento, and it fucking annihilated my soul.
Warning: Spoilers and soul-crushing disturbing content ahead.
This film is about a bestial girl with a knockout body but a viciously deformed face, complete with a gnarly set of fang teeth. She's essentially an animal, and craves two things- sex and flesh. The story revolves around a detective coming across a lunatic attempting to slaughter a young girl (Jenifer), said detective shooting said lunatic, and detective man taking this poor, deformed, apparently retarded girl into his care. Things start getting weird (as if that's the word) when detective man stops his car during the search for a permanent home for the beast, and beast jumps his bones.
That's right, she fucks his brains out. Apparently having a satanic animal mentality gives you some magical sex powers, because while he's understandably freaked out by the scenario, he's unable to stop. Things get far worse when the pair return to detective man's house, detective man argues with his wife about Jenifer staying another night so he can continue the search for permanent beast housing, and Jenifer first reveals her bloodthirst by disemboweling the family feline with her teeth.
Yeah.
The scene spares you no quarter: family walks into bathroom at sounds of commotion, Jenifer is sitting on the floor swinging the cat's corpse with her mouth and devouring kitty entrails. Fucking brutal.
Needless to say, wifey and sonny are none too happy about this, so they bug out. Jenifer again works her beastly sex magic on detective man that night, further tearing his now-frail psyche. Detective man spends the next day boozing it up, only to return home late that night to find Jenifer devouring the entrails of the 5-7 year old daughter of his neighbors.
Yeah.
Detective man uses his mighty detective powers to reach the conclusion that Jenifer can NOT stay, as she is NOT simply some poor, defenseless, deformed girl with some great T&A. So, like any rational individual with a now permanently scarred soul, he hires some circus bro to break into his house and kidnap her or something. He returns home that evening, an initially is relieved to the point of laughing out loud because the plan seems to have gone as... planned (pardon my lack of appropriate vocabulary right now, I can barely form thoughts after watching this movie). But of course, nothing is right, as he soon discovers the disemboweled, dismembered corpse of circus bro in the fridge (Jenifer didn't want to throw out the leftovers apparently).
This is the last straw, but detective man is too deep in her spell to abandon/kill her, so he takes her and runs away to some far off cabin in the woods (after burying circus bro in the backyard). He boozes himself practically into unconsciousness, has more freaky beast sex with the freaky beast, passes out, and wakes up to go find a job the next day. He finds work in the convenience store dealy in the nearby podunk town, gets friendly with the owner, things start to look up but you KNOW somebody's getting disemboweled soon because there're only 10 minutes left in the movie. Short story shorter, detective man returns home to his cabin to find Jenifer disembowleing and devouring the still-living son of the shop owner, TOTALLY flips out, grabs an axe, and drags Jenifer out into the woods to end the nightmare.
But, kids, this is a horror flick, so there is no resolution. Just as he's about to hack beast bitch to beast pieces, he's shot by a hunter who only sees the same thing detective man saw at the beginning of the movie: lunatic about to cut up innocent girl.
So the movie comes full circle, and ends, and you wish you never watched it.
Spoilers and fucking FREAKY shit end here.
I think this movie ripped my soul so bad because of a combination o things that can be summed up in a single phrase: great direction on the part of Mr. Argento. The movie is almost entirely devoid of the bad ("scary") lighting frequently employed by horror flicks, so the setting is entirely ordinary. Everything is just like the everyday world, except for the glaring issue of a FLESH EATING SEX BEAST. The normalcy of the setting, lighting, etc amplifies the fucking freak out that is Jenifer, and makes everything that happens SO much worse. And the combination of sexpot/entrail-eater just makes your soul want to cry.
Really, I don't think anyone should watch this movie unless they're a hardened horror veteran. Otherwise it'll just inspire a lifetime of nightmares and therapy bills, and nobody needs either of those.
Jenifer: Not for the faint of heart/weak of stomach.
Icky.
12.27.2006
Stone of Jordan
For those of you that aren't "in the know," Stone of Jordan is an acoustic rock band that consists of myself and a good friend of mine, which we've essentially JUST started. But we're getting music together relatively quickly, considering our fairly full schedules (fucking school/low wage jobs), so I'm hoping we'll be gig-worthy within the next two months-ish.
I'm DYING to get back on stage. You can't imagine... such a feeling, there are no words.
Stone of Jordan, like I said, is an acoustic rock group. That means we play acoustic guitars, but not in a jazzy kinda way, or a tears-in-your-macchiato emo kinda way, but in a rock kinda way. Look up the acoustic versions of songs by Cold, Breaking Benjamin, 30 Seconds to Mars, Nirvana, Staind, basically any rock band that's bothered to do acoustic songs, and you'll at least get the general vibe.
Anyway, I'm really excited about it, we've got a couple of great songs already, and I think the material will continue to be great, so we're gonna be really really great. I write good music (no use beating around the bush, might as well just say it- you all can slap me later), and Bob's discovering that he can indeed write music, that also happens to be very good and goes right along with the style I'm writing in, so I'm really excited to be working with him and I think we can definitely entertain some people once we get a-giggin.
Once we're slightly more soli on a few songs, we'll record them and I'll start up the obligatory Myspace page. I'll keep you all (does anyone even read this blog?) posted on developments, of course.
But right now I'm fucking tired, and I'm getting up early tomorrow, so I'm off to bed now.
G'night.
I'm DYING to get back on stage. You can't imagine... such a feeling, there are no words.
Stone of Jordan, like I said, is an acoustic rock group. That means we play acoustic guitars, but not in a jazzy kinda way, or a tears-in-your-macchiato emo kinda way, but in a rock kinda way. Look up the acoustic versions of songs by Cold, Breaking Benjamin, 30 Seconds to Mars, Nirvana, Staind, basically any rock band that's bothered to do acoustic songs, and you'll at least get the general vibe.
Anyway, I'm really excited about it, we've got a couple of great songs already, and I think the material will continue to be great, so we're gonna be really really great. I write good music (no use beating around the bush, might as well just say it- you all can slap me later), and Bob's discovering that he can indeed write music, that also happens to be very good and goes right along with the style I'm writing in, so I'm really excited to be working with him and I think we can definitely entertain some people once we get a-giggin.
Once we're slightly more soli on a few songs, we'll record them and I'll start up the obligatory Myspace page. I'll keep you all (does anyone even read this blog?) posted on developments, of course.
But right now I'm fucking tired, and I'm getting up early tomorrow, so I'm off to bed now.
G'night.
12.25.2006
Merry!
Christmas!
Get your drunk on, kids... get your drunk on.
Do it for me.
In other news, I still hate Christmas music. The same 12 damn songs played over and over by every artist imaginable, year after year... drives me up the freakin wall. It has caused me to understand why people drink over the holidays though, it's the only thing that makes that dam music bearable. Of course, this raises one of those damned "Chicken or the Egg?" questions- Was Christmas music borne of people drinking, or did people start drinking during Christmas because of the music?
I'll leave you with that.
Merry Christmas, kids.
Get your drunk on, kids... get your drunk on.
Do it for me.
In other news, I still hate Christmas music. The same 12 damn songs played over and over by every artist imaginable, year after year... drives me up the freakin wall. It has caused me to understand why people drink over the holidays though, it's the only thing that makes that dam music bearable. Of course, this raises one of those damned "Chicken or the Egg?" questions- Was Christmas music borne of people drinking, or did people start drinking during Christmas because of the music?
I'll leave you with that.
Merry Christmas, kids.
12.24.2006
Music
is my blood.
If I get any sarcastic comments about my music having a high alcohol content, I'll kill you.
If I get any sarcastic comments about my music having a high alcohol content, I'll kill you.
12.21.2006
Grade AIDS
So I used to have Grade HIV, but apparently now I have full-blown Grade AIDS, in which my grades, if left untreated, gradually degenerate into failure and eventually homelessness.
Okay, so my grades aren't that bad. But I was inspired to write this as a result of a conversation I just had with my girlfriend, in which she suggested that next semester, if a class is kicking my ass, I switch it to Credit/No Credit.
Her: "We'll catch it early if it happens."
Me: "Catch it early. Like a DISEASE. I have Grade AIDS."
Essentially, CR/NC means that as long as you get a C, you pass the class. If not, you don't get credit for the class. But either way, it's not factored into your GPA. So yeah, that's the standard treatment if you feel like you're coming down with something that JUST MIGHT BE Grade AIDS.
I don't think I'll be minoring in Philosophy after all. As much as I love the subject, curricula are ruining it for me. I think I'll just buy a few books on Nietzche and Descartes, and leave it at that.
In case you were wondering, "curricula" are the life-sucking academic equivalents of vampires, named for their progenitor, Curricula.
Learn something new every day, don't you?
Okay, so my grades aren't that bad. But I was inspired to write this as a result of a conversation I just had with my girlfriend, in which she suggested that next semester, if a class is kicking my ass, I switch it to Credit/No Credit.
Her: "We'll catch it early if it happens."
Me: "Catch it early. Like a DISEASE. I have Grade AIDS."
Essentially, CR/NC means that as long as you get a C, you pass the class. If not, you don't get credit for the class. But either way, it's not factored into your GPA. So yeah, that's the standard treatment if you feel like you're coming down with something that JUST MIGHT BE Grade AIDS.
I don't think I'll be minoring in Philosophy after all. As much as I love the subject, curricula are ruining it for me. I think I'll just buy a few books on Nietzche and Descartes, and leave it at that.
In case you were wondering, "curricula" are the life-sucking academic equivalents of vampires, named for their progenitor, Curricula.
Learn something new every day, don't you?
12.18.2006
12.16.2006
Addiction v2.0
I was just thinking about how everybody was arguing over the whole "under God" portion of the National Anthem. One side wanted it removed to promote the whole separation of church and state thing, the other half wanted it kept in the anthem and the damned dirty heretics burned at the stake.
Well, I came up with a solution. Instead of removing "under God" from the National Anthem, we can simply change the word "God" to something else that we all live under in America. After much mental agony on my part, I decided that "Booze" would be an appropriate substitute. Booze, more than anything else, is America's favorite addiction and pastime. And at this point we've all heard about the secret lives of all the right wing uber-conservative Christian leaders, heroine and gay prostitutes and all, so I'm sure they wouldn't raise too much of a fuss.
If nothing else, that Catholics would be happy.
Speaking of booze, that is exactly why I'm writing right now as opposed to last night. Particularly, Carolan's Irish Cream Liqueur. Specifically, about 85% of a bottle of said liqueur.
No hangover though. Slept till about noon, so I'm good. I'll probably be on my way to Starbucks pretty soon to get a GRANDE cafe mocha, or maybe a pumpkin spice latte. Those are nice.
Well I'm going to go eat and indulge one of the two addictions just mentioned. Two of three, if you count food. I love food.
Well, I came up with a solution. Instead of removing "under God" from the National Anthem, we can simply change the word "God" to something else that we all live under in America. After much mental agony on my part, I decided that "Booze" would be an appropriate substitute. Booze, more than anything else, is America's favorite addiction and pastime. And at this point we've all heard about the secret lives of all the right wing uber-conservative Christian leaders, heroine and gay prostitutes and all, so I'm sure they wouldn't raise too much of a fuss.
If nothing else, that Catholics would be happy.
Speaking of booze, that is exactly why I'm writing right now as opposed to last night. Particularly, Carolan's Irish Cream Liqueur. Specifically, about 85% of a bottle of said liqueur.
No hangover though. Slept till about noon, so I'm good. I'll probably be on my way to Starbucks pretty soon to get a GRANDE cafe mocha, or maybe a pumpkin spice latte. Those are nice.
Well I'm going to go eat and indulge one of the two addictions just mentioned. Two of three, if you count food. I love food.
12.13.2006
My God,
how I love Tool. Now I'm listening to Aenima (link in previous article) and it's just... sex.
Yeah, I said it.
Yeah, I said it.
If you don't like Tool
...then you're probably a tool.
Currently listening to Tool's most recent album, 10,000 Days, and thought I'd give whoever reads this thing this early in its life my take on it.
On the whole, I love it. Now, while there is a pun in that statement, I am by no means implying that the album is butt rock. As far as Tool albums go, it elaborates on various aspects of the band's sound from previous records, including forward, heavier tracks reminiscient of some of the material from Aenimaand the vast soundscapes and mellow interludes of Lateralus. All in all this combination lends to a feeling of tension and release throughout, although the album is by no means inconsistent. As is typical of any Tool album, the track placement is flawless, blending the songs together into a work of art that is easy to listen to all the way through without skipping around.
Maynard said in an interview in the June 2006 issue ofRevolver that 10,000 Days is Tool's blues album, stating the complete frustration and loss of hope he's felt over America's situation at home an on the global stage. This feeling comes through on a great deal of the tracks; there's definitely a lot of darkness on several tracks. But what's a Tool album without a little darkness, right? It's not like it was all puppies and rainbows before.
I'm going to go ahead and digress for a moment. I, personally, have a thing for darker, less than happy music. I practically have an entire philosophy built on it. In my opinion, the art with the greatest depth is that which is inspired by pain, anger, frustration, etc. I can't even start to write happy songs that are even a 10th as good as the darker stuff that I write. Happy music, to me, just feels... shallow? I find it hard to be inspired by somebody singing about how happy they are. It takes far larger balls to get up on stage or release an album singing about your pain and your mistakes and the darkness we all face in our lives than it does to sing about how much you love your Chevy. Think of it this way: are you more comfortable telling your best friend about some terrible misery in your life or a tragedy in your past and whatnot, or are you more comfortable telling them that your dog did something that made you laugh? I would think most people would reach for the brighter of the two (the dog, people). Now, multiply the discomfort you feel over telling your best friend about something that's wrong with you by a few hundred thousand, that being the number of complete strangers that the average recording artist's music will reach.
It takes a hefty pair to cry in front of a roomful (stadiumful?) of strangers who are judging you by everything you say and every move you make, down to what you're freakin' wearing.
I apologize for that, but if I feel I need to elaborate on something from time to time, I swerve full into it. Just bear with me when that happens, I'll likely get back on track after a few paragraphs or so.
So anyway, I highly recommend the fat bass-drums-and-guitar-laden newest album of Tool to anyone who likes freaky layered time signatures, intricate, twisting melodies, and vocals that oftentimes function as simply another instrument in the band. Also, if you feel like "going deep" and unravelling the mysteries of the cosmos, you can do a great deal of that with the lyrics on this Tool album, just like all the others. I'm not going to go into all that, because you could fill volumes with the references Maynard makes in his writing , but if you're game for that sort of thing than these guys are for you.
Well that was a slightly shallow album review I think. At least I got to throw in a bit of personal philosophy in there.
More bloggings tomorrow likely, until then,
Anne Coulter's still a whorebag.
Currently listening to Tool's most recent album, 10,000 Days, and thought I'd give whoever reads this thing this early in its life my take on it.
On the whole, I love it. Now, while there is a pun in that statement, I am by no means implying that the album is butt rock. As far as Tool albums go, it elaborates on various aspects of the band's sound from previous records, including forward, heavier tracks reminiscient of some of the material from Aenimaand the vast soundscapes and mellow interludes of Lateralus. All in all this combination lends to a feeling of tension and release throughout, although the album is by no means inconsistent. As is typical of any Tool album, the track placement is flawless, blending the songs together into a work of art that is easy to listen to all the way through without skipping around.
Maynard said in an interview in the June 2006 issue ofRevolver that 10,000 Days is Tool's blues album, stating the complete frustration and loss of hope he's felt over America's situation at home an on the global stage. This feeling comes through on a great deal of the tracks; there's definitely a lot of darkness on several tracks. But what's a Tool album without a little darkness, right? It's not like it was all puppies and rainbows before.
I'm going to go ahead and digress for a moment. I, personally, have a thing for darker, less than happy music. I practically have an entire philosophy built on it. In my opinion, the art with the greatest depth is that which is inspired by pain, anger, frustration, etc. I can't even start to write happy songs that are even a 10th as good as the darker stuff that I write. Happy music, to me, just feels... shallow? I find it hard to be inspired by somebody singing about how happy they are. It takes far larger balls to get up on stage or release an album singing about your pain and your mistakes and the darkness we all face in our lives than it does to sing about how much you love your Chevy. Think of it this way: are you more comfortable telling your best friend about some terrible misery in your life or a tragedy in your past and whatnot, or are you more comfortable telling them that your dog did something that made you laugh? I would think most people would reach for the brighter of the two (the dog, people). Now, multiply the discomfort you feel over telling your best friend about something that's wrong with you by a few hundred thousand, that being the number of complete strangers that the average recording artist's music will reach.
It takes a hefty pair to cry in front of a roomful (stadiumful?) of strangers who are judging you by everything you say and every move you make, down to what you're freakin' wearing.
I apologize for that, but if I feel I need to elaborate on something from time to time, I swerve full into it. Just bear with me when that happens, I'll likely get back on track after a few paragraphs or so.
So anyway, I highly recommend the fat bass-drums-and-guitar-laden newest album of Tool to anyone who likes freaky layered time signatures, intricate, twisting melodies, and vocals that oftentimes function as simply another instrument in the band. Also, if you feel like "going deep" and unravelling the mysteries of the cosmos, you can do a great deal of that with the lyrics on this Tool album, just like all the others. I'm not going to go into all that, because you could fill volumes with the references Maynard makes in his writing , but if you're game for that sort of thing than these guys are for you.
Well that was a slightly shallow album review I think. At least I got to throw in a bit of personal philosophy in there.
More bloggings tomorrow likely, until then,
Anne Coulter's still a whorebag.
Addiction v1.0
I wrote this over the summer I believe. It's one of my favorite highly amusing rants of mine, so I though I'd post it. I wrote this one night after returning from Starbucks, where I'd purchased a Venti Cafe Mocha rather than a Grande Cafe Mocha like I usually do.
I don't know why I got a venti. I ALWAYS get a grande... grande is the
essence of perfection. Perfect amount of coffee, and aesthetically
perfect all at once... tall is stunted, unattractive, and not enough;
venti is hulking, unattractive, and too much. Grande is exactly the
size a cup of anything should be, save for beer; flawlessly
proportioned, beautiful in the way it conveys a sense of control on
the part of the drinker, and provides just the right amount... not
mediocre, or average, or plain, or anything of the sort, as some might
argue; Perfect. Controlled, powerful; but not in the sense of a
terrifying, abominable colossus who might annihilate the masses with
one swift blow, as with the venti; nor in the sense of a sneaky,
conniving, rat-like little being with a poisoned dagger, as with the
tall. Rather, it is powerful in the sense of the intelligent, wise,
philosophically- and socially-conscious warrior-poet, who knows to do
what is right and necessary, and not abuse the gifts given him. We can
all take a lesson from the grande.
So there you have it. Not only am I a coffee fiend, I'm an eccentric, higly literate coffee fiend. Sometimes I think I should be on meds.
Know who else should be on meds? Anne Coulter. Anne Coulter should be on anti-plagiarism and anti-bullshit-psycho-christian meds. I wonder what the generic brands would be for those?
I don't know why I got a venti. I ALWAYS get a grande... grande is the
essence of perfection. Perfect amount of coffee, and aesthetically
perfect all at once... tall is stunted, unattractive, and not enough;
venti is hulking, unattractive, and too much. Grande is exactly the
size a cup of anything should be, save for beer; flawlessly
proportioned, beautiful in the way it conveys a sense of control on
the part of the drinker, and provides just the right amount... not
mediocre, or average, or plain, or anything of the sort, as some might
argue; Perfect. Controlled, powerful; but not in the sense of a
terrifying, abominable colossus who might annihilate the masses with
one swift blow, as with the venti; nor in the sense of a sneaky,
conniving, rat-like little being with a poisoned dagger, as with the
tall. Rather, it is powerful in the sense of the intelligent, wise,
philosophically- and socially-conscious warrior-poet, who knows to do
what is right and necessary, and not abuse the gifts given him. We can
all take a lesson from the grande.
So there you have it. Not only am I a coffee fiend, I'm an eccentric, higly literate coffee fiend. Sometimes I think I should be on meds.
Know who else should be on meds? Anne Coulter. Anne Coulter should be on anti-plagiarism and anti-bullshit-psycho-christian meds. I wonder what the generic brands would be for those?
12.12.2006
On education.
Oh, the frustration.
I'm currently attempting to write a paper for my philosophy class, in which I am supposed to explain "what aquinas thinks we can know about god's creation, and how created things, especially human beings, are related to or tend towards god." This is not as easy as it might sound. Procrastination has left me in a situation of utter unpreparedness for such an assignment, so I'm sitting here staring, like the proverbial deer, at the passages in the Aquinas book, trying to glean some sort of spark that might get me going. But no matter how hard I stare blankly, I can't seem to figure out WHAT in the hell I should be discussing. Essentially, I have no idea where to start. This semester has found me utterly incapable of focusing on my studies, the source of said incapability primarily stemming from my complete lack of any sort of caring.
Basically, I have this little problem. I enjoy studying about religion and philosophy, and some other things, but I can never get into the groove of the whole "school" aspect of it. You know, the assignments, the studying, the timetable, etc. I just can't get my brain into school mode. I've had this problem since I can remember, with every subject, no matter how tantalizing. I think I'm one of those people who is just not built for school. Education, to me, should be a course of exploration and self-discovery, rooted in whatever path one chooses to take in life. Structure and time constraints and such things inhibit the learning process for me, and take a great deal away from whatever knowledge I might acquire in whatever class. If I had someone, likely some kindly older individual possessing a great deal of knowledge on a variety of subjects, suggest to me a plethora of books to read on various religions and philosophers and history etc etc, I would jump on them. This would then be followed by in-depth discussion on a far more personal scale than 20-200 people per instructor, resulting in a far greater understanding of the subject material. Accompanying this would be visits to a variety of appropriate locations, whether those be museums, libraries, or foreign countries.
What I'm talking about is the uninhibited, life-long devotion to the study of a particular subject, without a curriculum, grades, time limits, politics, and individuals lacking in any degree of depth (see: the average student who is in school solely to acquire a slip of paper that says they completed the coursework set down at a particular institute of learning). The educational system isn't so much a system of education as it is a mass-production facility, one which produces valuable statistics with which to compete with other nations in the ever-ending battle of "yeah well my citizen could beat up your citizen." The No Child Left Behind act is a prime example of this. Instead of letting social Darwinism occur and weed out the morons from those with a spark of intellect, we're going to standardize the shit out of something (being, education) that should NEVER be standardized in order to have a higher percentage of American citizens who have completed some measly criteria. This gives the government something to praise itself for in public address, and in turn keep the fat, stupid sheep that is the average American in line and voting for a particular party.
Essentially, I lack the drive to give a fuck about what some suit thinks is appropriate learning for me based upon age group and test scores, and therefore could give a fuck about school in any of its forms, be it K-12 or the university system. This, obviously, makes me angry, and anger is rarely productive in a standardized format.
What I really want to do with my life is make music that is both personally fulfilling and appealing to a great deal of individuals, in the sense that they can gain some sort of inspiration, hope, happiness, or understanding from it. Art is the only honest ideal left in the world. Not to say that all art is honest; otherwise the major music labels (alongside the great satan that is Clear Channel) wouldn't be pumping the same diluted, money-making bullshit into our homes in over and over again in different packages. But art, art that inspires and in turn gives birth to new forms of inspiration, is that which is truly honest and pure. The "starving artist" who knows he'll probably never make it in the music industry yet continues to create his art because he knows it is GOOD (I'm talking about goodness here, not talent) has more soul and is more worthwhile than the individual who has only his degree to give him value to the world.
This has been a rather bleak blog, on the whole, and could easily continue I'm sure. But I need to go fulfill a goddamn requirement, as much as I hate it, so I'm going to leave you with a quote. If you don't know what it's from, look it up.
"We are the music makers, and We are the dreamers of dreams."
I'm currently attempting to write a paper for my philosophy class, in which I am supposed to explain "what aquinas thinks we can know about god's creation, and how created things, especially human beings, are related to or tend towards god." This is not as easy as it might sound. Procrastination has left me in a situation of utter unpreparedness for such an assignment, so I'm sitting here staring, like the proverbial deer, at the passages in the Aquinas book, trying to glean some sort of spark that might get me going. But no matter how hard I stare blankly, I can't seem to figure out WHAT in the hell I should be discussing. Essentially, I have no idea where to start. This semester has found me utterly incapable of focusing on my studies, the source of said incapability primarily stemming from my complete lack of any sort of caring.
Basically, I have this little problem. I enjoy studying about religion and philosophy, and some other things, but I can never get into the groove of the whole "school" aspect of it. You know, the assignments, the studying, the timetable, etc. I just can't get my brain into school mode. I've had this problem since I can remember, with every subject, no matter how tantalizing. I think I'm one of those people who is just not built for school. Education, to me, should be a course of exploration and self-discovery, rooted in whatever path one chooses to take in life. Structure and time constraints and such things inhibit the learning process for me, and take a great deal away from whatever knowledge I might acquire in whatever class. If I had someone, likely some kindly older individual possessing a great deal of knowledge on a variety of subjects, suggest to me a plethora of books to read on various religions and philosophers and history etc etc, I would jump on them. This would then be followed by in-depth discussion on a far more personal scale than 20-200 people per instructor, resulting in a far greater understanding of the subject material. Accompanying this would be visits to a variety of appropriate locations, whether those be museums, libraries, or foreign countries.
What I'm talking about is the uninhibited, life-long devotion to the study of a particular subject, without a curriculum, grades, time limits, politics, and individuals lacking in any degree of depth (see: the average student who is in school solely to acquire a slip of paper that says they completed the coursework set down at a particular institute of learning). The educational system isn't so much a system of education as it is a mass-production facility, one which produces valuable statistics with which to compete with other nations in the ever-ending battle of "yeah well my citizen could beat up your citizen." The No Child Left Behind act is a prime example of this. Instead of letting social Darwinism occur and weed out the morons from those with a spark of intellect, we're going to standardize the shit out of something (being, education) that should NEVER be standardized in order to have a higher percentage of American citizens who have completed some measly criteria. This gives the government something to praise itself for in public address, and in turn keep the fat, stupid sheep that is the average American in line and voting for a particular party.
Essentially, I lack the drive to give a fuck about what some suit thinks is appropriate learning for me based upon age group and test scores, and therefore could give a fuck about school in any of its forms, be it K-12 or the university system. This, obviously, makes me angry, and anger is rarely productive in a standardized format.
What I really want to do with my life is make music that is both personally fulfilling and appealing to a great deal of individuals, in the sense that they can gain some sort of inspiration, hope, happiness, or understanding from it. Art is the only honest ideal left in the world. Not to say that all art is honest; otherwise the major music labels (alongside the great satan that is Clear Channel) wouldn't be pumping the same diluted, money-making bullshit into our homes in over and over again in different packages. But art, art that inspires and in turn gives birth to new forms of inspiration, is that which is truly honest and pure. The "starving artist" who knows he'll probably never make it in the music industry yet continues to create his art because he knows it is GOOD (I'm talking about goodness here, not talent) has more soul and is more worthwhile than the individual who has only his degree to give him value to the world.
This has been a rather bleak blog, on the whole, and could easily continue I'm sure. But I need to go fulfill a goddamn requirement, as much as I hate it, so I'm going to leave you with a quote. If you don't know what it's from, look it up.
"We are the music makers, and We are the dreamers of dreams."
12.11.2006
I hate.
I just spent about an hour writing a blog about the entire Deftones catalogue. That blog has ceased to exist, all blame belonging to CSULB's goddamn wireless internet. Basically I went to post the blog once finished, but the internet had apparently dropped out at some point during the writing process, so it required me to log back in to the wireless network. Once re-logged in to the stupid shit, Blogger was all errored up as a result, and the aforementioned Deftones blog was *poof* gone.
Yeah, I should have saved. Shut up.
Essentially, I love Adrenaline, Around the Fur rocks, White Pony is, on the whole, the ultimate Deftones album, Deftones is a good album but dissapointing (probably) as a result of the fan backlash to the atmosphere/abience of White Pony (they practically did away with such things, except for a few songs), and what I've heard of Saturday Night Wrist is excellent. I got a lot deeper than that, even providing links to info for each album, but now I don't quite care as much. So there you go.
I even threw in an amusing reference to my burning love of Jared Leto, but I guess you, reader, miss out for now. Maybe later.
Well hopefully I'll get a better blog up tonight. Till then.
Oh yeah, Anne Coulter is a whore and I blame this on her. Thank you for your time.
Yeah, I should have saved. Shut up.
Essentially, I love Adrenaline, Around the Fur rocks, White Pony is, on the whole, the ultimate Deftones album, Deftones is a good album but dissapointing (probably) as a result of the fan backlash to the atmosphere/abience of White Pony (they practically did away with such things, except for a few songs), and what I've heard of Saturday Night Wrist is excellent. I got a lot deeper than that, even providing links to info for each album, but now I don't quite care as much. So there you go.
I even threw in an amusing reference to my burning love of Jared Leto, but I guess you, reader, miss out for now. Maybe later.
Well hopefully I'll get a better blog up tonight. Till then.
Oh yeah, Anne Coulter is a whore and I blame this on her. Thank you for your time.
12.10.2006
An intro for this whole thing
Well I'm a webcomic whore, and lately I've been thinking about actually starting up a webcomic myself, but I then considered the great deal of effort that goes into that sort of thing. So, instead, I thought "Hey, how bout a blog?" Blogs are far easier to maintain, and I can say whatever the hell I want and won't have to worry about character/story/etc continuity.
Basically this blog will likely consist of me talking about music- mine, other people's, gear, recording shit, etc etc. I'll also wind up talking about things like college, movies, probably religion, etc etc... so don't expect this to be a straight up music critique blog. Like I said, I'm blogging so I don't have to worry about consistency ;)
All that said, I should lay down some disclaimers. I can get pretty harsh when discussing music I find disagreeable, and I also have very strong opinions when it comes to religion, philosophy, and politics. You'll probably wind up reading a bit on each of these topics here I'm sure, so if you'd rather not here me call Anne Coulter a plagiarizing Jesus freak whorebag who deserves to have all manner of horrors befall her, quit now before you try to sic the Bush administration on me. That wouldn't be good for ANY of the parties involved.
Well that's it for right now, I'm sure I'll post again manana.
Till then, everyone should check out the wonderfullness in my comics list at the bottom of this page, as well as the rise.fall.reclaim myu-zak page. That's one of my two current musical endeavors, rise.fall.reclaim being my one-man-band alternative rock project. Vocals, guitar, bass, keys, programming (including drums) all done by me, and I recorded all of it on my gorgeous little Apple iBook G4, using GarageBand (of course).
One more warning, now that I've mentioned my Mac- I am totally an elitist Mac bastard. I'll probably beat on PCs once in a while in this little bloggings as well, so just deal with it if you're still unenlightened and might get offended by my insulting your inferior machine.
Now that that's out of the way as well, I'll bear mentioning my other music project, Stone of Jordan (if you think that's funny, I love you; if not, don't worry about it and just assume it has some crazy deep meaning like it sounds like it does). Stone of Jordan is (currently) a two-man acoustic collab between myself and my good friend Bob. We both write/play guitar, and I do that whole vocalling thing (I am, actually, aware that that is not a word, but I like it anyway). WEe're working on stuff right now, and I'm sure I'll have a myspace up for us fairly soon. I just want to get some shit recorded first, and maybe play a few little gigs. But I'll keep y'all posted on the progress of both projects for sure, although Stone of Jordan is the only one that'll likely be doing anything for a while.
Well that was a shit-ton longer than I intended, but that's how it goes. Later kids
Basically this blog will likely consist of me talking about music- mine, other people's, gear, recording shit, etc etc. I'll also wind up talking about things like college, movies, probably religion, etc etc... so don't expect this to be a straight up music critique blog. Like I said, I'm blogging so I don't have to worry about consistency ;)
All that said, I should lay down some disclaimers. I can get pretty harsh when discussing music I find disagreeable, and I also have very strong opinions when it comes to religion, philosophy, and politics. You'll probably wind up reading a bit on each of these topics here I'm sure, so if you'd rather not here me call Anne Coulter a plagiarizing Jesus freak whorebag who deserves to have all manner of horrors befall her, quit now before you try to sic the Bush administration on me. That wouldn't be good for ANY of the parties involved.
Well that's it for right now, I'm sure I'll post again manana.
Till then, everyone should check out the wonderfullness in my comics list at the bottom of this page, as well as the rise.fall.reclaim myu-zak page. That's one of my two current musical endeavors, rise.fall.reclaim being my one-man-band alternative rock project. Vocals, guitar, bass, keys, programming (including drums) all done by me, and I recorded all of it on my gorgeous little Apple iBook G4, using GarageBand (of course).
One more warning, now that I've mentioned my Mac- I am totally an elitist Mac bastard. I'll probably beat on PCs once in a while in this little bloggings as well, so just deal with it if you're still unenlightened and might get offended by my insulting your inferior machine.
Now that that's out of the way as well, I'll bear mentioning my other music project, Stone of Jordan (if you think that's funny, I love you; if not, don't worry about it and just assume it has some crazy deep meaning like it sounds like it does). Stone of Jordan is (currently) a two-man acoustic collab between myself and my good friend Bob. We both write/play guitar, and I do that whole vocalling thing (I am, actually, aware that that is not a word, but I like it anyway). WEe're working on stuff right now, and I'm sure I'll have a myspace up for us fairly soon. I just want to get some shit recorded first, and maybe play a few little gigs. But I'll keep y'all posted on the progress of both projects for sure, although Stone of Jordan is the only one that'll likely be doing anything for a while.
Well that was a shit-ton longer than I intended, but that's how it goes. Later kids
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