Rage, explosiveness, and intensity are all parts of love. The energy and power of creation in purity harbors the fuel of concern. And sonic events, well metered, powerful, and meticulously dreamed, are the carriers. Harbingers. Love is stronger then death! Love is stronger then blackness. Love is stronger then wrong. All things that fall short of that absolute are wrong!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Monday, April 04, 2011
Sucker Punch! H3LL Y3@H!!!!!
OK! Any movie with "When the Levee Breaks" in the trailer is going to get my attention. But when you throw in 20 foot Shogun (one with a MINI-GUN!!!!), "steam driven" post-death German soldiers in all their glorious Teutonic insanity,
Ghost in the Shell human piloted mechs, A B-20-f'en-5 Mitchell (with a jet engine on the right wing!), dirigibles littering the sky, swords, Super Cool Scott Glenn, A DRAGON(!!!), Bjork, Emiliani Torrini, a cover of Tommorrow Never Knows (that was a straight up Danielle Dax flashback for me), Kung Fu, and girls holding assault weapons the way they're supposed to be held, YOU GARAUNTEE MY ATTENDANCE!!!!
Holy crap! It's like someone spanned the years of my interests pulling out bits as they went and made a movie with them.
But alas, there is one place where they screwed up with me, and I'm positive a good many others. Dressing the girls in those stupid skimpy outfits. Women are beautiful! We don't need to see them dressed like hookers to believe it.
Guys like me are happy to see a girl feather the throttle in a drift or fire a small
frame handgun instinctively with accuracy. Michelle Rodgriguez was hotter then hell in Battle: Los Angeles! I didn't need to see her in a mini-skirt to believe she was going to kick some alien arse. Girls like her are just hot with grease on their
face and a wrench in their hand as they are naked.
All of us are capable of the monstrous. The huge. The gigantic. Men AND Women both!!!! Every woman is capable of being a warrior that is erect, principled, and just plain right. Or maybe it's just me and my idea or desire for such a woman. One that is strong in heart, direction, and intestinal rectitude (guts). One that won't give up on you, the fight, or whatever the cause may be. Perhaps I've seen Nausicaa too many times. Perhaps I'm foolishly daydreaming about what I consider my equal. Who knows?
I have a new friend on Facebook that puts me in mind of just such a person. Adorable and intense. Embracing all of her physical potential, but no less beautiful as a result. She seems both quiet and explosive. Softly intense.
Getting back on track, movies like this where women are kicking the 5hit out of dudes that would try to do them harm make me go warm and fuzzy. And then to make it like an early 80's punk video around the edges is just plain genious.
Evenstill, the purpose is never what we suspect or expect. Nor was it here. A glorious engine of dreams fell prey to Walter Freemans evil and the machinations of small weak men. And Rocket! My dearest Rocket, who gave her life for the weakest one in the story.
Ghost in the Shell human piloted mechs, A B-20-f'en-5 Mitchell (with a jet engine on the right wing!), dirigibles littering the sky, swords, Super Cool Scott Glenn, A DRAGON(!!!), Bjork, Emiliani Torrini, a cover of Tommorrow Never Knows (that was a straight up Danielle Dax flashback for me), Kung Fu, and girls holding assault weapons the way they're supposed to be held, YOU GARAUNTEE MY ATTENDANCE!!!!
Holy crap! It's like someone spanned the years of my interests pulling out bits as they went and made a movie with them.
But alas, there is one place where they screwed up with me, and I'm positive a good many others. Dressing the girls in those stupid skimpy outfits. Women are beautiful! We don't need to see them dressed like hookers to believe it.
Guys like me are happy to see a girl feather the throttle in a drift or fire a small
frame handgun instinctively with accuracy. Michelle Rodgriguez was hotter then hell in Battle: Los Angeles! I didn't need to see her in a mini-skirt to believe she was going to kick some alien arse. Girls like her are just hot with grease on their
face and a wrench in their hand as they are naked.
All of us are capable of the monstrous. The huge. The gigantic. Men AND Women both!!!! Every woman is capable of being a warrior that is erect, principled, and just plain right. Or maybe it's just me and my idea or desire for such a woman. One that is strong in heart, direction, and intestinal rectitude (guts). One that won't give up on you, the fight, or whatever the cause may be. Perhaps I've seen Nausicaa too many times. Perhaps I'm foolishly daydreaming about what I consider my equal. Who knows?
I have a new friend on Facebook that puts me in mind of just such a person. Adorable and intense. Embracing all of her physical potential, but no less beautiful as a result. She seems both quiet and explosive. Softly intense.
Getting back on track, movies like this where women are kicking the 5hit out of dudes that would try to do them harm make me go warm and fuzzy. And then to make it like an early 80's punk video around the edges is just plain genious.
Evenstill, the purpose is never what we suspect or expect. Nor was it here. A glorious engine of dreams fell prey to Walter Freemans evil and the machinations of small weak men. And Rocket! My dearest Rocket, who gave her life for the weakest one in the story.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I am a musician
Back aroound (Canadian spelling eh?) '86 or '87 when "Marching Out" came out, I can remember the evenings I used to spend sitting in front of my room mates high end (at the time) CD player and tube receiver (definitely high end!) and listening to various of it's tracks over and fracken over again. One night in particular, clutching some truck driver serving of iced tea and dreaming.
Yeah, dreaming!
Music is supposed to do you the favor of taking you away from the daily bull5h1t isn't it? And back when you're in your teens / late teens, dreaming is huge thing isn't it? Or was that just me? And as you get older, shouldn't music remind you of how really free you can be should you decide it? Should you decide that what you want is what "YOU" want as opposed to what those around your say you should?
That night was inwardly epic in a way that only a true introvert can understand. It seemed as dark, cool, sweet, and mysterious as it should always be. The ambiance of glowing tubes and power lights in thedarkness as I sat on the floor with my legs wrapped in blanket: status information scrolling past diligently and endlessly. My mind gone, seeming to wander out into space and borne aloft by a desire to just go.
Into a sky that I don't know and into a future that I can't possibly begin to guess at. An introverted wandering powered by EL34's and stacked DiMarzio's singing out in anger as they harness the esoteric energy of sonic theory. Emotion breaking down and being reborn again over and over in vacuum, layered with delay, made huge and spacious with reverb, and finally punched outward into space through the vibration of paper.
Someone creating from that space was talking to me that night just as they are again speaking to me now. I listened and listened and listened and while never fully understanding the message, I've only now realized that point of this communication wasn't to understand it, but experience it. To just let it deliver me to times medi-evil or put me in places distant, fantastic, and other worldly. A quantum communication of the fantastic from one binding field to another. A delivery in a manner beyond the physical, but initiated by taylored sonic disturbance, colored by an individual in the grip of the same nature as I. Once received, mine to interpret as only I would. The greatest gift ever given to me, I played it over and over again, each time hearing and seeing more or different details of the communicated energy and interpreted setting.
The night time sky was alive and vibrant. Dots of light flickering above through the canopy or across a desert. The wind cool, full, and somehow torpid. The deepest green of an eventime forest enveloping in warmth. That JCM was the perfect emotion engine. Each pulse or subtle bleed of energy like a twinkling in the heavens. A momentary and emotive flash hinting at the brilliance of the design. The power tubes swelling and ebbing. Their magnetic fields doing the bidding of a ilk mate that was always there and will always be. Painting the soft and warm bladed floor green. Infusing the spring time air with honey. Instilling the wavering leaves with peace. My ilk mate, hammering out a space and moment in eternity for me and one that may someday be within arms reach. My exact opposite twin separated by a dis-heartening multiple of 365.
Yeah, dreaming!
Music is supposed to do you the favor of taking you away from the daily bull5h1t isn't it? And back when you're in your teens / late teens, dreaming is huge thing isn't it? Or was that just me? And as you get older, shouldn't music remind you of how really free you can be should you decide it? Should you decide that what you want is what "YOU" want as opposed to what those around your say you should?
That night was inwardly epic in a way that only a true introvert can understand. It seemed as dark, cool, sweet, and mysterious as it should always be. The ambiance of glowing tubes and power lights in thedarkness as I sat on the floor with my legs wrapped in blanket: status information scrolling past diligently and endlessly. My mind gone, seeming to wander out into space and borne aloft by a desire to just go.
Into a sky that I don't know and into a future that I can't possibly begin to guess at. An introverted wandering powered by EL34's and stacked DiMarzio's singing out in anger as they harness the esoteric energy of sonic theory. Emotion breaking down and being reborn again over and over in vacuum, layered with delay, made huge and spacious with reverb, and finally punched outward into space through the vibration of paper.
Someone creating from that space was talking to me that night just as they are again speaking to me now. I listened and listened and listened and while never fully understanding the message, I've only now realized that point of this communication wasn't to understand it, but experience it. To just let it deliver me to times medi-evil or put me in places distant, fantastic, and other worldly. A quantum communication of the fantastic from one binding field to another. A delivery in a manner beyond the physical, but initiated by taylored sonic disturbance, colored by an individual in the grip of the same nature as I. Once received, mine to interpret as only I would. The greatest gift ever given to me, I played it over and over again, each time hearing and seeing more or different details of the communicated energy and interpreted setting.
The night time sky was alive and vibrant. Dots of light flickering above through the canopy or across a desert. The wind cool, full, and somehow torpid. The deepest green of an eventime forest enveloping in warmth. That JCM was the perfect emotion engine. Each pulse or subtle bleed of energy like a twinkling in the heavens. A momentary and emotive flash hinting at the brilliance of the design. The power tubes swelling and ebbing. Their magnetic fields doing the bidding of a ilk mate that was always there and will always be. Painting the soft and warm bladed floor green. Infusing the spring time air with honey. Instilling the wavering leaves with peace. My ilk mate, hammering out a space and moment in eternity for me and one that may someday be within arms reach. My exact opposite twin separated by a dis-heartening multiple of 365.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Ruby...... Ha ha ha....
I heard something a little while ago that made me a laugh. Essentially I overheard one guy here at work tell another while looking at a line of Ruby say, "It's starting to look like Perl".
Funny that 3 or so months ago, I mentioned that my biggest gripe with Ruby is that it had/has all the potential to become even more evil then Perl. It's an extremely flexible language, and just
like Perl, some use it to the point of writing code that is nigh on unmaintaiable simply because it's nigh on unreadable. Obfuscated. Single liners with 839 methods and other shizzle chained
together may seem cool when you wrote, but it's going to suck over time.
Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Of course, when I said this, they looked at me like I was strange or crazy.
But hey! What do I know?
And BTW, I'm not down on Ruby, but most of the Ruby community need not be so zealous.
Funny that 3 or so months ago, I mentioned that my biggest gripe with Ruby is that it had/has all the potential to become even more evil then Perl. It's an extremely flexible language, and just
like Perl, some use it to the point of writing code that is nigh on unmaintaiable simply because it's nigh on unreadable. Obfuscated. Single liners with 839 methods and other shizzle chained
together may seem cool when you wrote, but it's going to suck over time.
Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
Of course, when I said this, they looked at me like I was strange or crazy.
But hey! What do I know?
And BTW, I'm not down on Ruby, but most of the Ruby community need not be so zealous.
Friday, February 25, 2011
SIG alert!
Seems I'm experiencing a S.I.G. (Self Installing Girlfriend) attack. This puts me in a funk for a couple of different reasons.
1) I can't read on the bus in peace. I would rather read Keynes or Brockdorf-Rantzau about now then field the blather from someone
that finishes my sentences and doesn't know who the aforementioned are.
2) I don't want a girlfriend.
3) I can't stand assumptions! So far, it's been assumed that I was going to school, in the military, and I'm a vegetarian. How could
I beging to expect something to work with someone that is more interested in what she thinks about me then what she knows.
4) Too much rage and endeavor! There isn't enough room for anyone else right now.
The only easy fix I see is to ride an earlier bus in the morning. That sucks for it's own reason as well. Or mayber I could for the
life out of here with discussions of how Europe would be today had it not been decisions by arseholes like Clemencau and Lloyd-George.
Of course, when Vandana is done, this becomes a non-issue.
1) I can't read on the bus in peace. I would rather read Keynes or Brockdorf-Rantzau about now then field the blather from someone
that finishes my sentences and doesn't know who the aforementioned are.
2) I don't want a girlfriend.
3) I can't stand assumptions! So far, it's been assumed that I was going to school, in the military, and I'm a vegetarian. How could
I beging to expect something to work with someone that is more interested in what she thinks about me then what she knows.
4) Too much rage and endeavor! There isn't enough room for anyone else right now.
The only easy fix I see is to ride an earlier bus in the morning. That sucks for it's own reason as well. Or mayber I could for the
life out of here with discussions of how Europe would be today had it not been decisions by arseholes like Clemencau and Lloyd-George.
Of course, when Vandana is done, this becomes a non-issue.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Eulogy
Somewhere my partner has gone,
taken cruelly by cold hands clad in darkness.
Someplace ethereal and unknown,
never to be seen or heard again.
Only emptiness.
At times I hear your voice
or smell your smell.
At times I see you,
still winged and majestic.
At times,
all things you were are before my minds eyes,
stoking the fires of longing,
fanning the flames of loss.
But I imagine you still and will forever
as an honor,
and as a love.
As the cruel harbinger of precision.
As an elegant and powerful instrument of our objective.
As my friend!
Laughing in the daytime of our lives.
Roaring in the bloom of our anger.
Unfelled until now.
So down to the locker you go
taking your hold on us with you.
Down to that heavy blue and black.
The watery end of your container.
May we fly together again
in a realm far greater then the joke you left us in.
taken cruelly by cold hands clad in darkness.
Someplace ethereal and unknown,
never to be seen or heard again.
Only emptiness.
At times I hear your voice
or smell your smell.
At times I see you,
still winged and majestic.
At times,
all things you were are before my minds eyes,
stoking the fires of longing,
fanning the flames of loss.
But I imagine you still and will forever
as an honor,
and as a love.
As the cruel harbinger of precision.
As an elegant and powerful instrument of our objective.
As my friend!
Laughing in the daytime of our lives.
Roaring in the bloom of our anger.
Unfelled until now.
So down to the locker you go
taking your hold on us with you.
Down to that heavy blue and black.
The watery end of your container.
May we fly together again
in a realm far greater then the joke you left us in.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Bonds don't break!
There is sheer terror in love and knowing that someone from a long time ago that you missed, missed you too.
Separation the first time was brutal. It crushed the breath out of me. Years of confusion and feeling the loss that a parent must feel at losing a child.
I feel tethered to this person. Our orbits degenerating as gravity gets the better. This is the one person who has taken root deeper in my heart then any other. Missing for years, but now back.
Do I release my anger? Just let it go?
Do I put up my shields?
Separation the first time was brutal. It crushed the breath out of me. Years of confusion and feeling the loss that a parent must feel at losing a child.
I feel tethered to this person. Our orbits degenerating as gravity gets the better. This is the one person who has taken root deeper in my heart then any other. Missing for years, but now back.
Do I release my anger? Just let it go?
Do I put up my shields?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Vandana
I saw my love today
There, stranded, and picturesque
In deepest darkest azure
and wheeled with rake and sculpture.
What terrible longing hath the Swede wrought at the penning of her determined lines
or dreaming of her mighty core?
My heart falters and falls,
leaving me adrift,
when remembering that time anew
and anticipating the coming rapturous union
of pressure driven coupling.
Our choreography of rage, combustion, and precision,
forever etched in the halls of my memories.
The roaring of her engines singing out
at the bottom of a full moon night
and blasting through the cleavage of mountains bathed in blue.
There, stranded, and picturesque
In deepest darkest azure
and wheeled with rake and sculpture.
What terrible longing hath the Swede wrought at the penning of her determined lines
or dreaming of her mighty core?
My heart falters and falls,
leaving me adrift,
when remembering that time anew
and anticipating the coming rapturous union
of pressure driven coupling.
Our choreography of rage, combustion, and precision,
forever etched in the halls of my memories.
The roaring of her engines singing out
at the bottom of a full moon night
and blasting through the cleavage of mountains bathed in blue.
Monday, December 13, 2010
FRACK!
I suddenly hate my life.
No, I'm not suicidal or want to die or down on myself or some other weak shizzle. I'm suddenly pissed at where I am right now.
No, I'm not suicidal or want to die or down on myself or some other weak shizzle. I'm suddenly pissed at where I am right now.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Lakewood Den gets a twitter accont!
Just click (or cut and paste the) below.
http://twitter.com/#!/Lakewood_Den
http://twitter.com/#!/Lakewood_Den
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Broken
This morning, hearing music on a radio someplace that was warm, spacious, and mellow with female vocals, I immediately began going someplace. Someplace fantastic and romantic. Infectious and affectionate.
Then I stopped it! I rejected it! I shunned it! This is not my place and won't be for a long time. The taste, sweet at first, then bitter. Because, you see, I am completely shattered. I am busted and broken.
Yet in this mess is cohesion. In the distance of the parts is the remaking. Despecialization! The shattered, like a collection of blastemas with a shared objective. I am re-becomming what I feel I should always have been. No longer shackled with longing and the layers of filters that constricted my heart. No longer anchored by fallen flyers or my own desire to lift up.
What falls of it's own volition, falls, never to return again.
But what get's up, climbs higher then the previous try.
I am broken. Augmented with rage, controlled with precision, and screaming in the blackness. Running towards the soon coming time of spirited motion through the long dark of discipline. Temporal perhaps, I am, but of an intent that is crushing. Bristling with electricity and sensitive to the touch.
12/07/10
Then I stopped it! I rejected it! I shunned it! This is not my place and won't be for a long time. The taste, sweet at first, then bitter. Because, you see, I am completely shattered. I am busted and broken.
Yet in this mess is cohesion. In the distance of the parts is the remaking. Despecialization! The shattered, like a collection of blastemas with a shared objective. I am re-becomming what I feel I should always have been. No longer shackled with longing and the layers of filters that constricted my heart. No longer anchored by fallen flyers or my own desire to lift up.
What falls of it's own volition, falls, never to return again.
But what get's up, climbs higher then the previous try.
I am broken. Augmented with rage, controlled with precision, and screaming in the blackness. Running towards the soon coming time of spirited motion through the long dark of discipline. Temporal perhaps, I am, but of an intent that is crushing. Bristling with electricity and sensitive to the touch.
12/07/10
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
A good night
Had a good night writing. But holy crap is it difficult at times. The emotion is immense. Like a flood. For three of you out there that do eventually read this, you will see that I loved you.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Fed up with the mediocre
How could I have spent so much time here?
Sleeping with anchors
and shriveling
That screamed lasted 2 good years
and has borne shame
No more is there room for others!
Sleeping with anchors
and shriveling
That screamed lasted 2 good years
and has borne shame
No more is there room for others!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Monday, August 09, 2010
After this scene, I have to see this movie!
And make sure to watch the whole thing.
BTW, If you are not truly moved by this on some level, something went wrong in your life somewhere a long time back.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
One of the best Clash songs ever
The Clash: Corner Soul
Is the music of grove skin rock
Soaked in the diesel of war boys war?
Blood, black gold and the face of a judge
Is the music calling for a river of blood?
Beat the drums tonight, Alphonso
Spread the news all over the grove
The big meeting has decided
That total war must burn on the grove
Does it mean I should take my machete
To chop my way through the path of life?
Does it mean I should run with the dog pack
Is that the way to be the one to survive?
Never need a gun says Tai Chi
Move on up to dragon snaps his tail
Fall back on still waters
Hammer with his eye on the nail
Spread the word tonight please, Sammy
They're searching everyhouse on the grove
Don't go alone now, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the corner soul
Tell the news for me, Sammy
They're searching every place on the grove
But don't go down alone new, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the croner soul
Is the music calling for a river of blood?
Is the music of grove skin rock
Soaked in the diesel of war boys war?
Blood, black gold and the face of a judge
Is the music calling for a river of blood?
Beat the drums tonight, Alphonso
Spread the news all over the grove
The big meeting has decided
That total war must burn on the grove
Does it mean I should take my machete
To chop my way through the path of life?
Does it mean I should run with the dog pack
Is that the way to be the one to survive?
Never need a gun says Tai Chi
Move on up to dragon snaps his tail
Fall back on still waters
Hammer with his eye on the nail
Spread the word tonight please, Sammy
They're searching everyhouse on the grove
Don't go alone now, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the corner soul
Tell the news for me, Sammy
They're searching every place on the grove
But don't go down alone new, Sammy!
The wind has blown away the croner soul
Is the music calling for a river of blood?
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
You know the old saying....
...."keep your friends close and your enemies closer"?
Well ain't that the truth.
And who was it? Sun Tzu, or Niccolò Machiavelli?
But it's especially sad, this situation. There was no intent to be enemies with anyone on my part.
Well ain't that the truth.
And who was it? Sun Tzu, or Niccolò Machiavelli?
But it's especially sad, this situation. There was no intent to be enemies with anyone on my part.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Metal
Some people aren't going to understand this. That's OK because people seldom understand what I say it seems.
I listen to all kinds of Music. I mean all kinds of music! From Chopin to Bulgarian folk singing. I love what it all does. The open will understand what I'm saying.
But nothing makes me feel alive when I'm angered, thoughtful, or just simply busy like... Nothing makes me yearn for objective more then... Nothing makes me more happy
in the face of a storm then... Nothing centers me in my core and makes me happier to be me then... METAL!
Yeah, that loud sh1t that older people like me aren't supposed to listen too.
Yeah, that stuff that black people say white people are crazy for listening too.
Yeah, that stuff that mediocre people cringe when hearing.
Yeah, sure, just like with everything else, 90% of it sucks! But just like everything else, that remaining 10% is sweetest cream.
I'm here to tell you something. There is a goodness or attraction in every kind of sound. Every kind of music. Once you can get that kind of thinking into your head,
you'll find yourself suddenly open to a much bigger world then the one you exist in now. And once that's done, you are one step away from being in for the best f'en ride
of your life. You know what it's called? Life!
Yeah, I just implied that I don't think some of you are really alive didn't I? If you take offense, ask yourself why?
Implications aside, what are you afraid of? As a matter fact, WTF have I been afraid of?
But I'm straying.
Yeah, I'm angry. And on some levels, I want to stay angry. I want to keep looking far off. I want to keep yearning for something bigger then me. And when I'm thinking
about these things, it's good, thoughtful, huge, rich, hard as frack, Metal that I like listening too. When I get the bit between my teeth and commit, I want to hear
Metal. When the throttle is open and the boost is climbing, I want metal. When I'm deciding what I'm going to do about a generally fracked situation, I want metal.
Isn't life supposed to be granderous? Isn't life supposed to be huge. Yes, there are times when one needs to slow down and enjoy what and who is around them, but is that
all life is? Security and comfort? In a dying world like ours, when attrocity and calamity is just around the corner, do we really want to just be comfortable when there
is so little time? As if you ever really had a lot of time anyway? What we have is nothing! A short flash in infinity. Something completely unnoticed by the continuum.
And understandably, we cling to each other in tighter when we look at things that way. BUT(!), is that justification for mediocrity?
Has that been my excuse? I certainly think big and look at the big but am I doing big?
We are thinkers. We are creators. We are actors on a real stage that's a hell of a lot bigger and more interesting then the TV set. We have the capacity to do big. We
have the capacity to phathom the enormous. We have the ability to build the incredible.
And keeping that in mind, shouldn't we have a fucken' hard ass soundtrack to go with it?
Yeah, I feel like a monster. I feel like ten million bucks. Perhaps the run this morning shook something loose in my head. Or perhaps the realization that i've put on
the chains of normalcy lately has me angry at my own self delusion. Perhaps I'm finally waking up from this nightmare of knowing the way all my life but not walking it.
Perhaps I'm rebelling against something.
But yeah, I feel like a conqueror. I feel intense. I feel fast. Made of anger and objective. Kingly and knowing. Discerning. And I want a soundtrack to go along with
these feelings. A fuckin' huge and powerful, clever, intelligent, layered sound that is emotive and crushing. That ripples and shakes inward and outward. Something that
is both martial and disciplined, but providing of wonder and amazement.
I want it all!
I listen to all kinds of Music. I mean all kinds of music! From Chopin to Bulgarian folk singing. I love what it all does. The open will understand what I'm saying.
But nothing makes me feel alive when I'm angered, thoughtful, or just simply busy like... Nothing makes me yearn for objective more then... Nothing makes me more happy
in the face of a storm then... Nothing centers me in my core and makes me happier to be me then... METAL!
Yeah, that loud sh1t that older people like me aren't supposed to listen too.
Yeah, that stuff that black people say white people are crazy for listening too.
Yeah, that stuff that mediocre people cringe when hearing.
Yeah, sure, just like with everything else, 90% of it sucks! But just like everything else, that remaining 10% is sweetest cream.
I'm here to tell you something. There is a goodness or attraction in every kind of sound. Every kind of music. Once you can get that kind of thinking into your head,
you'll find yourself suddenly open to a much bigger world then the one you exist in now. And once that's done, you are one step away from being in for the best f'en ride
of your life. You know what it's called? Life!
Yeah, I just implied that I don't think some of you are really alive didn't I? If you take offense, ask yourself why?
Implications aside, what are you afraid of? As a matter fact, WTF have I been afraid of?
But I'm straying.
Yeah, I'm angry. And on some levels, I want to stay angry. I want to keep looking far off. I want to keep yearning for something bigger then me. And when I'm thinking
about these things, it's good, thoughtful, huge, rich, hard as frack, Metal that I like listening too. When I get the bit between my teeth and commit, I want to hear
Metal. When the throttle is open and the boost is climbing, I want metal. When I'm deciding what I'm going to do about a generally fracked situation, I want metal.
Isn't life supposed to be granderous? Isn't life supposed to be huge. Yes, there are times when one needs to slow down and enjoy what and who is around them, but is that
all life is? Security and comfort? In a dying world like ours, when attrocity and calamity is just around the corner, do we really want to just be comfortable when there
is so little time? As if you ever really had a lot of time anyway? What we have is nothing! A short flash in infinity. Something completely unnoticed by the continuum.
And understandably, we cling to each other in tighter when we look at things that way. BUT(!), is that justification for mediocrity?
Has that been my excuse? I certainly think big and look at the big but am I doing big?
We are thinkers. We are creators. We are actors on a real stage that's a hell of a lot bigger and more interesting then the TV set. We have the capacity to do big. We
have the capacity to phathom the enormous. We have the ability to build the incredible.
And keeping that in mind, shouldn't we have a fucken' hard ass soundtrack to go with it?
Yeah, I feel like a monster. I feel like ten million bucks. Perhaps the run this morning shook something loose in my head. Or perhaps the realization that i've put on
the chains of normalcy lately has me angry at my own self delusion. Perhaps I'm finally waking up from this nightmare of knowing the way all my life but not walking it.
Perhaps I'm rebelling against something.
But yeah, I feel like a conqueror. I feel intense. I feel fast. Made of anger and objective. Kingly and knowing. Discerning. And I want a soundtrack to go along with
these feelings. A fuckin' huge and powerful, clever, intelligent, layered sound that is emotive and crushing. That ripples and shakes inward and outward. Something that
is both martial and disciplined, but providing of wonder and amazement.
I want it all!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I think one must be possed at times to write code
I wrote this the other day.
This wasn't two days ago right. But I looked at it just a moment ago and had to laugh at how alien it looked. Now of course, it makes sense after just a moment of looking, but geez. Am I in some altered state when doing this crap?
$clean_time=(int) (trim(str_replace('pm', '', $raw_time))); $clean_time+=12;
This wasn't two days ago right. But I looked at it just a moment ago and had to laugh at how alien it looked. Now of course, it makes sense after just a moment of looking, but geez. Am I in some altered state when doing this crap?
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