| It's Better to Destroy Than Create What's Unnecessary... |
[entries|friends|calendar] |
|
| Unhappy |
[23 Aug 2008|09:47pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Acacia Strain - JFC |
] |
If this means what I think it means, I love it:
"Only sheep are fucking happy."
That's genius.
I'm getting that terrible (but oh so fun) compulsion that drives me towards wanting to destroy everything in sight.
Why don't I have any drive in life? What happened along the way that killed my desire to want to do anything, achieve anything, be anything? Why isn't being the best, being successful, whatever, why isn't that a part of my thought process? I don't give a fuck about anything. My only hope is that that's what Nietzche had in mind when he thought of these supermen, men who would stare into that void and it would completely wipe away any and all drive or motivation.
Because in the end, none of it fucking matters? Sure, none of it fucking matters. It doesn't matter if I spend my whole life playing video games, or if I discover life on another planet. Nothing fucking matters because we were born to destroy ourselves and each other.
There's a giant, behemoth statue somewhere on the earth. It's a statue of a man and a woman holding hands. And for ever since man first knew what he was, when he first had real consciousness, each day after that we've been breaking pieces of this statue off. We chip away at the statue and we eat it, or we shape the rock into a point so we can stab another human being who has something we want, or we throw it into the river. There is no future.
I'm just waiting for the day when that last piece is taken away, and there's no statue anymore. I'll gather up a few people and convince them to help me build a new statue, only instead of a man and a woman, it'll be an idol of Cthulhu, or someother nameless, wild, world-eater. It has to be an image of destruction, an image of the final end. Jon was wrong, things can end. And all the people who helped me build it, we'll slit our own throats and stain the grey and black stone to red with all the blood.
And all the people will come and worship it, at least I hope they do. It's my dream to see people finally bow down before the real images and ideas they worship. The thoughts and the feelings, the real human experience. Neverending destruction and madness.
|
|
| Lollapalooza I |
[02 Aug 2008|12:15am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
exhausted, but excited |
] |
Had to have been 500,000 people.
I've seen Radiohead perform as a whole better. Thom had hinted he was kinda sick, and made some mention about jet lag. Still good, but not as on it as they've been before.
But, weird enough, their set list tonight was the best set list I've seen them do. They played No Surprises, Lucky, Paranoid Android, 2+2=5, Everything in its Right Place, Jigsaw Falling into Place, all my favorites. SUch a good list, wish they'd been not so jet lagged.
Rage to come tomorrow. I'm going down there at least 8 hours before Rage goes on stage, and I"m going to stand at that stage listening to whatever crap gets played before they take the stage. 10 years of waiting has come to a fucking close.
More to come.
|
|
| Being Who I Am |
[25 Jul 2008|01:45am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
still more: Isis - Glisten |
] |
What you are is all you have.
I'm reading this disgusting book, and the people in it... I'm horrified. No, I'm angry. I'm angry because what the people in this book do, what they subject themselves to, the way they inhibit themselves is so... Fuck there's no word I can think that wraps up concepts like pathetic, backwards, senseless, and horrifying into one single adjective.
Let's propose a question: Why would you pretend to be someone you are not?
Unless you are a trained actor, there can only be a reasonable number of logical motivations to engage in such an act. You might pretend to be someone else because you hate who you are, or worse you don't know who you are. Or maybe who you are is so low, meaningless, and hollow that you have to mask that in order to function. Corollary to that, maybe you just simply want to deceive someone. You want to lie.
And you can make up whatever mindless, drivel, bullshit excuse you want. It is still a lie.
Not like I'm perfect. I lie all the time. Especially to my parents, my family, employers, colleagues, sometimes even to friends. I hate to do it, but sometimes it's necessary. I'm no better, but I don't lie about being who I am.
Finished summer school classes today. No reason to think I didn't make 2 A's. Did lots of writing for those classes in such a small time period, and it feels good to have worked. I wish the classes were still going on. I want to write more.
What I don't want is to go home, but I pretty much have to. Grandparents are expecting me, they apparently feel obliged to visit with me, even though they know absolutely nothing about me. I do prefer it that way. The only thing saving this excursion is a chance to hang out with friends and get legitimately, inexcusably, furiously, righteously, Vikingly drunk.
For my finale...
The Dialogue of the Past Two Centuries:
Do I really look like a man with a plan, Harvey? I don't have a plan. The mob has plans, the cops have plans. You know what I am, Harvey? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. I just do things. I'm a wrench in the gears. I hate plans. Yours, theirs, everyone's. Maroni has plans. Gordon has plans. Schemers trying to control their worlds. I am not a schemer. I show schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are. So when I say that what happened to you and your girlfriend wasn't personal, you know I'm telling the truth. It's a schemer who put you where you are. You were a schemer. You had plans. Look where it got you. I just did what I do best: I took your plan and turned it on itself. Look what I have done to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple bullets. Nobody panics when the expected people get killed. Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plans are horrifying. If I tell the press that tomorrow a gangbanger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will get blown up, nobody panics. But when I say one little old mayor will die, everyone loses their minds! Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I am an agent of chaos. And you know the thing about chaos, Harvey? It's fair.
|
|
|
[25 Jul 2008|01:05am] |
|
Made Up
Being who I am,
diametrically opposing myself
to prevailing paradigms
systems
situations
perceptions and misconceptions
in the humaniverse.
I decided long ago to uproot
the foundations
the causations.
If a man says to me, A is A
it is my immediate response
to call him a fool
and explain the folly
of his illogic.
Even when I know it is so. Facts are meant to be questioned.
So the world posits to me that
there is indeed a God. I laugh at its foolishness. My limited faculty leads me to very few truths but the one I memorized handed down to me from the mountainside said there was no such thing. No such thing as God. But Facts are meant to be questioned. So one day I set upon A scavenger hunt. A journey across time and space searching for the Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Omniversality. I looked in all the reasonable places scanning through line after line of repetitive invented symbols numerals strung together in code upon chaotic code and it all made the shaded shape of a warm apple pi. God was not to be found. I don’t know how to go on from here. What I found out was that she was waiting for me. What I learned (how I love to learn) was God is in the smiles of strangers you lend twenty dollars for gas to get home She makes hearts beat in synchronicity And washes the sand with her bottomless love. So now I dance on the shore. A bonfire behind me A blaze of calculations and contemplations my feet churning the earth hands raised to the sky clutching my insurance policy Because you never know.
|
|
| Literary Destiny. |
[22 Jul 2008|12:44pm] |
|
Miss Brill and Alfred J. Prufrock are going to have a meeting. Maybe they will fall in love.
|
|
| Haunted |
[21 Jul 2008|04:54pm] |
For the next year or so I'm pretty much going to have the following stuck in my head day after day after day:
Delivered from the blast
The last of a line of lasts
The pale princess of a palace cracked
And now the kingdom comes
Crashing down undone
And I am a master of a nothing place
Of recoil and grace
Is it bright where you are
Have the people changed
Does it make you happy you're so strange
And in your darkest hour
I hold secrets flame
We can watch the world devoured in it's pain
3-6-09
|
|
| I Heart Sinfest |
[21 Jul 2008|04:44pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
One Day as a Lion - Wild International (comes out tomorrow, woot!) |
] |
Yes, oh yes, I do.
|
|
| Real This Time? |
[08 Jul 2008|11:19pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
hopeful & light |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Baroness - Isak |
] |
This is terribly fascinating. I would say, without any scientific polling or analysis of any kind, that I roughly clean my room once every 3 months. I've only been living in this apartment for about a month and I can think of 3 separate occasions where I have tidied up or completely cleaned my room. So the statistics have reversed completely, how amazing is that? I mean, I'm not a clean person at all but I'm changing that. I clean my dishes right after I'm done using them, I've been picking up trash left around the living room, even when it's not mine. And not complaining about it. It's nice to have a clean place.
And it's nice to have a nice place to keep clean, a place worth calling your own. That's what this apartment is to me now, and I'm not even really staying in my own room, just someone else's temporarily until I move across the hall in August. I can look out the window and see city lights close by. They keep me comfortable. Knowing the orange and white lights outside are there means that civilization is just outside my door, I'm not lost in the woods anymore like some helpless child wandering with his face drenched with tears.
Having a gym downstairs I think was the simple secret to me getting back into respectable shape. When its just downstairs and I don't have to drive halfway across town to work out, it becomes infinitely easier to motivate myself into going down there and just running and lifting a few weights. I'm quite pumped about getting this weight off. Got Dragoncon coming up, I wanna be in good shape for that. Or at least, better shape. So again, hooray for this new apartment complex thing I live in.
I am so in love with Atlanta. It's all a dream come true, to be horrendously cliche. I haven't even put the city to full use. When I go out and do things, they're pretty mediocre events like just driving down the road to the comic shop, or going to movies, or out to eat. Shows too, not as many as I would have liked to have gone to, but there are always new opportunities. Little Five is an oasis of joy, just heading down there and wasting the time or buying a CD is an absolute joy. I had a day off from class today and though my time was spent well doing laundry and buying toothpaste, I wish I'd gone down there. It's been way too long since I've been down there.
Everything just generally feels like a forward, truthful, legitimate movement towards self improvement. i don't know what my final expectations are. But I think this part I've figured out: I'm not changing into someone else, I'm becoming the person I was born to be, but has been hiding underneath all this time. It's like everyday I pull away some piece of hardened, clay-like, dry flesh and it crackles and breaks in my hand and there's some new flesh underneath, something stronger and brighter. Some days the pieces are smaller, other days they're larger. I just hope I have the courage and the will to tear it all away, to go the whole distance. Encouragement is helpful.
It's only 10 days until The Dark Knight comes out. That seems like such a long time, but such a short time. After we'd seen Batman Begins, Justin and I pretty much started our countdown to the sequel right then and there. I'm especially encouraged by the initial reactions by the critics at media screenings, one critic actually compared it to The Godfather II, The Departed, and The Untouchables. That's a pretty high class of films to be compared to. On the same token I saw a great little documentary about Hunter S. Thompson that was done by the same guy who directed Taxi to the Dark Side & Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. Excellent job done, even if the story dragged on a bit tediously, but then the man did so much in his life it's difficult to narrow it all down into 2 & 1/2 hours.
All of August is going to be completely free for me. Should I find a job? It would be wise. But I want to do an internship in the Fall. Conflicts!
|
|
| useless post ( I feel angry) |
[30 Jun 2008|11:35pm] |
This isn't so much a post as it is an extended, prolonged quotation that'll live on for however long this website stays running, or until the government takes it off the internet. But it's been a while since I've done that oh so popular song-lyrics-posting posts, so here's one for the kids.
Skynet:
If you think like a whore, then you’re a fucking whore.
Plagiarism is the highest form of flattery. Why would you ever want to be like me?
We are all someone else’s terrible idea.
If you catch the evil twin then why would you keep it alive?
If you feel the fucking daggers then why not just step aside?
You are all bastard children and you’ve taken it all the wrong way.
Keep fooling yourself with your unappreciation.
Look into my eyes and know that I can see right through you.
I'll erase you from the thoughts and tongues of everyone you know.
Even if you apologized to me right now it would mean nothing.
Cry to me and beg for mercy all you want, you’re fucking dead.
I don’t care when or why you cry.
I just want to be there when you die.
I’ll be collecting soon.
I’ll be coming for my payment soon.
You’re nothing but a fucking pig. And you owe me your life.
Van flip times a thousand. Don’t believe the hype. No care ever.
The Acacia Strain
|
|
| intelligent |
[24 Jun 2008|01:26am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
inspired and insipid |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Click and clack of my keyboard |
] |
So let's talk about the television for a little bit, shall we? Television is a wonderful little gadget, of this I have no doubt. Television has given people political power where once they had none. Television allows for mass communication on pretty much the broadest level we have so far imagined. Its power of simulation and repetition is absolutely uncanny. Think about how different your life would be without television, and I'm not trying to conjure up images of Sesame Street or The Transformers here. Think about your life, now.
That all being said, television today is horribly mindless. Let me present the best 3 examples of this. 3 examples that just happen to also serve as particular examples of just how deranged, foolish, and superficial our society is: MTV, Vh1, and the E! network. Not a one of those 3 cable networks put out a single minute of airtime that enriches the human spirit or life in away. Go ahead, argue with me about it. I've already won the argument. MTV might come close with that "Made" show of theirs that they do, where they turn less-attractive girls into prom queens and nerds like me into ladies' men, yet I would imagine that show is far more scripted and manipulated than they would let on. But I digress.
Yes, television nowadays when it comes to raw, entertaining content is disgustingly bare of worthwhile, educational, enlightening, thought-provoking material. TV it seems like it more concerned with selling beer and cereal and toys. TV seems more concerned with keeping people afraid and in-line and medicated. TV seems to be running out of ideas. (ahem, 5 or 6 different kinds of Law & Order, CSI, Star Trek, etc.) It really so frustrating.
When I was young, I remember during a day I would spend like 6 hours after school watching TV almost. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but maybe it's not. Memory's a funny thing. I remember my parents scolding me about it, saying I needed to do other things, that too much TV was bad for you, that I needed to be doing other things. Boy were they right. My parents have been right about only 50% of the things in life they've told me, but that time they knew what they were talking about. That would be a thing I regret about my childhood, too much time spent watching TV and not enough time spent reading Rudyard Kipling or Charles Dickens. It makes me sick too that kids are growing up on the absolute trash that they have to endure these days (aka Hannah Montana, the general poor-quality junk that Cartoon Network comes up with, and all this nonsense). I'm disgusted by the whole prospect.
Again, Sesame Street, a shining light of rule-exception in this modern world, but that show isn't what it use to be either from what I've heard. And FUCK. FUCK. Mr. Rogers has been dead for... (going to wikipedia to see how long he's been dead) Oh god... Just over 5 years now that Fred Rogers has been dead. It might seem like a terribly odd comparison, but it especially hits me hard to think about how Fred Rogers has been dead already these 5 years and just this weekend we lost another media-changing giant: George Carlin.
Cutting out all the ranting and getting down to the basic gist: TV just ain't what it use to be.
But, and this is where I get to the real point of this post.... (Aren't you glad you made it this far?) Just a little while ago, I watched something amazing. Something so stunning, so awe-inspiring and so real I had to write about it before the idea went away or the passion dimmed.
Fox Broadcasting does this marvelous little mystery theater show called "House M.D." You've probably heard of it. It's such a terribly strange show to me, its nature is strange to me anyway, not the show itself. Every episode I watch it stuns me how repetitive and formulaic each episode is, but it never bothers me. Wanna know why? Because the writing is epic. I know no other word for it. Just epic. The creator and the writers are some hard, hard workers let me tell you. I know. I could go on about this marvel of this show, but let me again get to the point of all this.
Episode # HOU-312. It was the 12th episode of "House M.D.'s" third season and it was entitled "One Day, One Room."
This was like nothing I had ever seen on television. Not even like an episode of "Lost" or even the best episodes of TNG. It was miraculous not because I was entertained or shocked or stunned or sedated by the allure of audio-visual entertainment. It was so stunning because I was moved. In a very real way. Not only that, and this was the part that really got me, it was over my head. The themes, the concepts and ideas they were discussing in this episode, though I have talked and thought about them so many times with different people, were on a much higher level than anything I'd come across in my short, secluded life. This was deep, deeper than ocean-trenches-deep. In this day in age, in the day of "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" and "The O'Reiley Factor," I found INTELLIGENT television.
And I was just struck by that, that its come to that. Television could be smart, could be real, like "House" is, but it doesn't. The bottom line has become too great a concern for intelligence and wit and character to be lauded and high ideals for an entertaining fiction show. I won't bother you any details of the episode's plot or concept because either you're interested so I want you to just watch it for yourself, or you've already written me off and the plot doesn't matter. So that's that.
And yes, I do love "House" because the main character is a pompous, arrogant asshole, just like me. But that's a whole new discussion, which I'll start like this: I like Gregory House because he knows how important rationality and objectivity is in this new world we live in, a world with nuclear bombs and genetic engineering. And he doesn't believe in God, like me, and won't apologize for it, also like me. I do see a lot of myself in Gregory House, and I'm fine with that. People think kindness, subjectivity, compassion are absolute forces of good, and sometimes they are, but sometimes they do more harm than good so they are therefore not the infallible tools of some immortal all-knowing god figure.
Still, yes I am somewhat trouble by my sudden case of hero-worship for a person who does not exist in reality. But that's ok really, not existing in reality. If there's one good thing I've learned from art, its that reality matters about as much as whether you have turkey or salami on your sandwich today. Superreality has taken over, and it'll be here to stay for a long long time, at least I hope it stays for a long long time. Because if it doesn't, then that just means the poor and the middle class have outgrown their usefulness, and we'll all be dead. Fuck, am I ranting again?
Anyway, I'm still here. Trying to make sure it never gets boring for you folks. I'm cancelling my housing contract with the school (no more carpet-less dorm) and moving into an apartment in Atlantic Station right across the hall from my good friends. Everything looks very promisng. I want to be writing, not just want to be, but am, and want to continue to do so. I have a few plans for some projects that might end up quite splendidly. We'll just have to see. Florence was a bummer, aside from the oh-so-fun hours spent playing D&D and Starcraft with BuRn and Spreelanka.
Atlanta is as gorgeous as ever. I have something here that I do not have in Alabama, and it's not made of concrete and it doesn't run on gas, it doesn't have Braves signs all over it, it's not a CD or a comfortable shirt. It's just confidence.
L
|
|
| New Holidays |
[08 Jun 2008|03:31am] |
|
So, I discovered just now that June 8th was the day Orwell's 1984 was first published (thanks wikipedia). So i'm posting this here as a hopeful reminder to myself that I'll always know that June 8th is a very important day. I need to think up celebrations for this day. Only just now discovering this tidbit of info, I don't have enough time to plan a truly worthy celebration. I may have to concoct some sort of hair-brained last minute scheme or idea. Anyway, cheers to you Mr. Orwell, we are in your debt.
|
|
|
[20 May 2008|07:13am] |
Fantastic Article for all you global warming folks out there.
I especially love the sections that discuss forest cropping and the need for nuclear energy.
|
|
| Updates and Upwellings |
[15 May 2008|12:22am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Danzig, Misfits, Dead Kennedys |
] |
So there I go again, going a while without any kind of post whatsoever. Graduate school is busy times. Between newspaper work, doing a radio show once a week, papers, class, cooking food, sleeping, more work, more papers, and occasionally scouring myspace for new bands to try out, its difficult finding time to just sit down and post.
It's been about 4 months or so since I moved out to Atlanta and things get better and better each day, and the very first day was great. So that's how wonderful things have been. Got a couple of good shows and movies coming up to look forward too; Paganfest, Opeth, Summer Slaughter Tour, Indiana Jones 4. It'll be some good times.
I went and saw Radiohead for the 2nd time. Went with my sister, who seemed eternally grateful to me for inviting her along. Glad I got to share that with her. I told her on the way back how I hope someday I'm so rich I can buy all my friends, and I mean all my friends, a ticket to a Radiohead show so we can all go together and experience that as a group. Such an amazing show, amazing band. They didn't play No Surprises, which disappointed me. I really wanted to scream out a certain line of lyrics in that song, but alas
Did the LAN party too. Was good times until I got sick from alcohol / motion sickness. Sounds like a cop out I know, but I'm certain it had an effect. I gotta get better at Starcraft.
So a precursor, I've had an idea for a quasi-essay and I'm going to do my first draft of it here on lj, and it will soon follow. Except for maybe 2 people who read my lj, I doubt it will have any significance or meaning for the rest of you, but if you read it , it'll be cool to know if you get something out of it even if you don't relate to the main subject. Another precursor: I'd been listening to the band I talk about in this essay for well over an hour, and just so you know if you're not aware, this band hardly has a song longer than 2 1/2 minutes long, so I listened to a lot of songs and several of them multiple times before I started writing this. Really makes me wonder what might have been...
I remember seeing a few kinds walking into the toy store in the mall; I can't be any older than 13 or 14. Lots of black in their clothing, out-of-the-ordinary hairstyles, there were 3 of them, grouped together talking and laughing. I wondered what they were going into the toy store for. They were obviously older high schoolers. Vaguely, I thought in my head they must get picked on at high school just like I do, because they don't dress like normal kids. The popular kids must laugh at them, laugh at their unnatural, fake hair color and their weird band shirts. I wondered what was worse, to be laughed at just because you were unathletic and shy, or laughed at because you dressed so different from 'normal' people.
I've always wondered about how we learn about images in culture. I do remember learning about the peace symbol from my father, how he told me it was a picture people who didn't like war would draw and put in places to show how they didn't like the evil that war brought out in people. I was around 8 or 9 I think; he taught me what a pacifist was in that same conversation, and I thought the idea of that, while maybe a silly idea from what dad explained, still sounded kind of cool. But where did I learn that 'cool' meant something neat, interesting, or amazing? Who explained to me how a skull and crossbones meant poison, or danger, or pirates? I don't know about that, and even more I can't for the life of me remember how I was introduced to the Crimson Ghost.
That's why I'm telling you about these 3 high school kids that I watched from afar in the mall, studying, puzzling, admiring, maybe even yearning for. One of them had that image, the smiling, mischievous grin of the Crimson Ghost on his shirt and the logo: The Misfits emblazoned on the dark black shirt. Before seeing that shirt, I had heard about the Misfits before. This was the sum total of my knowledge about the Misfits at that moment in time:
- They were a band from before I was born (the original lineup broke up in 1983, the year of my birth).
- They were a band who's existence was mostly exclusive to the underground.
- Near everyone in underground, heavy, extreme, punk, heavy metal music was into this band.
At this time in my life I had discovered mainstream alternative rock radio. The stations that were belting on Nirvana and Pearl Jam like doing so would save the world. But somewhere along the way I taught myself to love Metallica, AC/DC, Megadeth, and an eventual host of other bands who qualified as hard rock and/or heavy metal. I liked grunge stuff too; Nevermind was one of the very first albums I ever bought. But as much as I enjoyed it, it was missing something that the rougher, harder stuff had.
And hearing about the Misfits, seeing older kids who liked them, it made me curious. I made the immediate realization that in order to be cool you had to listen to the Misfits. And who doesn't want to be cool? But at the same time I knew there was something intrinsically wrong with that logic. Shouldn't I listen to them because I like them? Not because its "cool" to do so? I decided my later thought was more true, more pure.
But that image of the smiling, grinning, plotting white-faced skull-ghost penetrated my being. Still formulating my ideas of the past, of past culture, past happenings, of popular history, I had some concept of what pulp comics and culture were about. I knew the style, I could recognize it and set it apart from other styles of art and drawing, and I knew the Crimson Ghost came out of that. And I knew that had been what the Misfits were largely based around. Again, I don't know at all how I came to know all this; it's like there was some set of trivial pursuit questions and answers that were read to me every night as I slept, ingraining the basic understanding and knowledge into my head. But I automatically associated the Misfits with homages to the campy, early 1940s and 50s horror films and serial comics. That's just always what they were about. And boy, did they play that up; here's some lyrics from one of their songs, "Skulls":
the corpses all hang headless and limp bodies with no surprises and the blood drains down like devil's rain we'll bathe tonight i want your skulls i need your skulls
And those lyrics are 1981-82. A much more innocent time compared today, an age where we live in the shadow of vile-lyric-masters like Eminem.
I thought pulp culture was dumb; I recognized it, but I didn't get what was so appealing about it. So, going back to my first explanation, this equated to a kind of first strike against me liking this band, before I had even listened to a song. I remember then at some point taking my logic about being cool and turning outward to project on other people. I concluded, more or less, that it was just as likely that those high schoolers listened to the Misfits likely because they were trying to be cool too. So another strike.
At some point, somewhere, somehow (again, my specific memory fails) I heard one song by the Misfits. And I did not like what I heard. Pretty much that was the third strike; so I wrote the Misfits off. Don't bother listening to anymore. It's obviously just some stupid trendy nonsense that will go away, I'm sure said to myself.
Yet, that Crimson Ghost didn't just disappear out of my life, the way ghosts tend to do when you ignore them. The Misfits are an American music icon. Go to any, any, heavy metal or punk rock show on any level from the underground garage to stadium-seating festivals, someone walking around is wearing a Misfits shirt. Just in case you missed them, or wasn't sure what they were, that iconic Crimson Ghost image, coupled with the Misfits band log appears all over popular culture media, in places you wouldn't normally expect, like the TV show CSI or in movies like "Men in Black" or the recent "Transformers" big screen adaptation.
So the trend didn't go away. If anything, in many circles, the mythology of the band has grown and grown. The story behind their rise and fall is talked about in every corner of the underground & extreme music scenes all over the country. It's got all the makings of a classic American rock band tragedy: bickering band members, drunken performances that ended in quiet drives in the tour van back home, divisive and angry legal battles after it's all over. Even the stereotypical reunion tours, sans certain bitter band members.
I think I'll stop there, but it's not finished. I'll have more to say later.
|
|
|
[28 Apr 2008|03:05pm] |
UPDATE — As you may remember, I put up a post a while back about a couple who decided to pray for their child instead of getting her medical attention? They're going to trial for second-degree reckless homicide charges, and could spend 25 years in prison.
I find this to be welcome news.
|
|
| Too long to be a comment |
[15 Apr 2008|08:28pm] |
Is all this supposed to be some sort of negative comment directed my way?
Sure, I used to be that person you're referred to and remember, but that's not who I am anymore. People change. A step further, people get smarter. They evolve, and that's what I did. I used to worship God, go to church all the time and believe and all that. And now I don't.
You may not believe me, but I knew I was an agnostic/atheist before I was even in high school. So, for a while I did convince myself through whatever means that I did believe wholeheartedly in Christianity, but I stopped lying to myself and now I'm where I'm at. I still believe in some of the tenants and teachings of Jesus, he was a swell guy.
But I'm not ashamed about anything I've done in regard to how my spiritual/religious attitudes have changed. I want to repeat that, because it bears repeating: I am not ashamed. I changed, I didn't know it was a crime to change your opinions about things.
And it quite honestly makes me angry to think that you can point this out as if it somehow nullifies my arguments I made. Maybe I shouldn't have called the Pope a nazi sympathizer, that's a little drastic. But the core of this post was about how full of shit the catholic church is and how they're getting away with murder while the mormon 'cult' is raided and invaded like it was a Taliban outpost, armed to the teeth with weapons and explosives.
I'm more inclined to agree with what Courtney said about religion being a fraud and god being truth. So perhaps that's where I should have qualified my statements about all this. I'm not specifically attacking the spirituality, beliefs, and/or ideas of Christianity, I'm attacking the vile, horrible people who use those ideas as a costume to go parading around doing whatever their evil, selfish hearts desire. Which is the point that Cap'n made. So we're in fact in agreement. I suppose my complete frustration and anger about this whole thing clouded my clarity.
Hell, we'll make this story-time while we're at it. I know this isn't credible evidence or anything, and I know nobody would substantiate me, or agree with me, but in my way I can prove that there is no god, or at least that he isn't listening or doesn't care or whatever you want. I remember being in 8th grade, I remember first getting into death metal, finding out about bands who had very satanic themed songs and imagery and all that, then my parents finding out that I'd been doing this, then them explicitly taking away my music and telling me I could not, would not, cannot listen to that stuff anymore. I remember my dad telling me how that stuff was evil, how it would destroy my life. I remember being dragged to church for years and years, when all the time I was dreaming about other things that could have gotten me somewhere; dreaming about football, or watching new movies I hadn't seen, playing outside, discovering the world and all such.
My father and God were a team, bent on molding me into a good a decent person; an upright, righteous, pious, respectable man. Well that team's been split up for quite sometime. My father doesn't believe in God anymore, he might still go to church every week, and he might go to their little social events and all that. but when I look in his eyes I can tell if God was a cockroach on the floor he would stomp him out like a verminous piece of trash. I don't know what made it happen; if he feels he was betrayed, if he got too tired and old to keep going, or if he just simply did like I did and put all the pieces together and saw what is really there. Or, more appropriately, not there.
It's in my genes to question god anyway you look at it. Authority figures are total bullshit to me, always have been always will be. No one, no thing rules me. Especially not imaginary friends.
|
|
|
[15 Apr 2008|04:16pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
fervently pissed |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Radiohead - Jigsaw Falling Into Place |
] |
And now for another installment of Matt's infrequent "Let's Bash Religion" column.
Said Pope "Eggs" Benedict upon arrival in the U.S. today (according to Fox News): "Pedophilia is incompatible with the priesthood."
Well thanks for putting all our fears to rest, Captain Nazi-Sympathizer That's a huge relief. A more intelligent statement would have sounded something more like: "Pedophilia is incompatible with ANY KIND OF NORMAL BEHAVIOR." And, for the record, I would definitely not qualify "priesthood" as normal behavior. So, even more proof for you that that statement is about as well-thought-out as lighting a match in the dark to see if there's gas in the gas tank.
This I use to serve as an intro for a few comments Bill Maher made on his HBO show this past Friday (I know I keep coming back to him, but he's on a roll these days). This pretty much summed it up for me: "Cults get raided, religions get parades." I absolutely cannot fathom how apologetic people get about this shit. Yes, Maher said it, and I agree, and I don't care how much it may offend your sensibilities about Christianity, but the Catholic Church is absolutely no better than these polygamist whack-jobs. It's almost uncanny how well-timed the Pope's trip here was. It's almost like he knew people might use those critical thinking skills and put 2 and 2 together to see how religion can be a horribly destructive, negative force. I mean fuck, they have a massive compound and wear ridiculous outfits, and so does the Pope. What more do you want?
You know what else is child abuse? Not as bad as physical, sexual abuse, no. But teaching your children it is ok to hate a person because of their sexual preference, political affiliation, or skin color is child abuse, if you ask me. Just teaching children to hate in general is child abuse. (I want to quickly thank my parents for never teaching me to hate anyone or anything and instead encouraging critical thinking and open-minded attitudes). Sending your child to a summer camp where they bow down to cardboard cut outs of president bush and learn how to drive out demons is abuse too. Abuse is religion's bread and fucking butter.
This whole thing makes me so terribly angry that I don't know what to say about it. And everyone knows how I can go on and on about things, but the rage that wells inside of me about this, it completely overwhelms me.
Why can't people just realize that there is something after this? Life is not like the board game, when you get to the end of the road, count up your money, and see who was the 'winner'.
The human race has to survive after you are gone, after you have died. So what did you do to make sure that we evolved and progressed as a species? You tied 15 year old girls to the bed to rape them then called 5 or 6 of them your "spiritual wives"? You sexually abused the children of families who trusted and relied on you to be a guiding force in their lives? Well, yes, yes you did. But what made you think you were going to get away with it? Really?
Because all you have to do is convince them you're a messenger of god. You're a prophet; a holy, infallible man worthy of respect, revered and appreciated and looked up to as a leader... a vessel of spiritual salvation. But you're none of that. You're a fucking con artist, a predator that preys on people's inherent weaknesses and instincts and exploits them in the name of perverted sexual satisfaction. You are scum, that's what you are.
|
|
| Dreams come true |
[07 Apr 2008|07:22pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
oh so thin keyboard!! |
] |
So who here remembers the Lollapalooza tour? I mean, that stuff defined the 90s through and through, as far as popular music. Smashing Pumpkins, Jane's Addiction, Tool were some of the bigger, most well-known bands that played that tour. But nowadays, its been reduced to a 3 day festival in Chicago.
But, Odin bless them, because the organizers of this event have given me a dream come true. The line up for this mega fest includes not only Flogging Molly, Nine Inch Nails, Blues Traveler, Bang Camaro, Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings but the following 2 bands:
Radiohead
&
Rage Against the Machine
I really want to go to this. I mean, I've told myself that if both of them played at the same festival, I would run over small children to go to that fest. And to boot, Chicago is a really awesome city and I haven't been since I was very young, and have always wanted to return. But I was supposedly going to commit to summer school. I may have to change my mind. I mean, sweet lord, Rage AND Radiohead???? This was never supposed to happen, but it has and its going to be extremely difficult to work this out and go to school at the same time. Damnation.
|
|
| Censorship |
[04 Apr 2008|03:42pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 confused |
] |
Censorship
Fucking horseshit motherfuckers.
I'll add this on a side note. The campus newspaper here at SCAD-Atlanta received a general kick in the face over the past week. We publish comics on a regular basis, drawn by students from the school, and in our last issue we printed a comic which depicted a couple of KKK members burning a cross in a character's front yard, proclaiming that the person (a white-skinned character, mind you) should be hung, stoned, burned, and the like. The character then replies, upon seeing this sight in his own yard, something to the effect of "Wow, I didn't think my comic was that bad."
Now, I understand people get offended (unlike me). And I understand too that its not always proper to make light of the fact that the KKK in reality did stone and hang people. I will never contest that. For those reasons alone we should have rethought whether or not to print this comic.
However, the true irony of this here is the comic was very subtly making an important comment about censorship in general, comparing the proponents of censorship to racists who try to impose their views upon other people's lives. And what happens? People tried to censor us, and in a way they did. At some point over the week some of the offended students and/or faculty took all the remaining copies of our paper from the stands scattered across campus, leaving the stands empty. We screwed up, sure. But I can't help but somewhat laugh at how the comic in and of itself proved a point. Even further, when Art Spiegelman came to talk to our campus back in February, this was precisely the kind of thing he talked about: how comics are so often a source of controversy and can be a catalyst towards discussion, offensive material, and just general mayhem and social unrest.
Salman Rushdie, a man who has plenty of notable experience regarding censorship (and was even at risk of being killed for his art), said: "If you can't defend what is unpalatable to you personally, then you don't actually believe in free speech. You only believe in the free speech of those who agree with you." I will forever live and die by that statement. People need to get this concept into their heads.
People need to evolve.
I loathe censorship above all other things on this globe.
|
|
| First Firsts |
[01 Apr 2008|10:07pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Opeth -Harlequin Forest |
] |
Now, I've had my ups and downs with Bill Maher. I really, really, really am frustrated over his quite public, and quite frequent, support of PETA. Often times too, he can be quite a smart-ass (after my own heart, sure). But that can get annoying from time to time. The week before last, though, he really hit a big nail on the head on the head.
The basic gist of his argument was: If not Obama, then who? To explain in more detail, Maher was arguing that Obama is a terribly intelligent, young, inspiring, calculated, and capable candidate. Who just happens to be African-American. And he asked the question, if this guy isn't good enough to be the first Black president, who is?? He equated Obama to Jackie Robinson in similar regards. He made the assertion, an assertion I'd heard before in sports circles, that Robinson was the perfect person to break the color barrier in professional sports because he was a very level-headed guy, who was smart and never let things rustle him, and had the respect of many white men in the sport who obviously weren't prejudiced towards him just because of his skin color. I completely agree with that comparison.
Can you imagine how disenchanted and frustrated so many African-Americans are going to be if/when Obama loses the nomination? I mean, I won't blame them if they all up and secede from the nation over this. I'd do it. To come so close to finally overcoming this obstacle, with a man of such incredible ability and potential, many I'm sure will throw their hands in the air, defeated, and angrily proclaim "I quit." Yet, thinking about it more, it could be even more detrimental to have Obama win the nomination, but then loose the actual election.
Now, to approach the next logical step in this discussion. In a sense, yes, you could argue along the same lines for Hillary and that she might be the best chance women have of breaking through their own obstacles to the Oval Office. But I would argue she's tarnished, she's not as blameless as Obama. And she definitely doesn't have something Obama has: a lack of connection with the whole "Washington Crowd." Clinton is still a politician, and has a politician's ties with fellow lawmakers. Not to mention a politician's ties to corporate interests. Plus she has the presence of her husband always haunting her in the background.
Taking it even another step further, I'd say ask the same question from earlier about Clinton. "If not Hillary, then who?" Is Hillary Clinton really the one you want to say is the first female president? Can't we do better than her? At this point, I will certainly concede that I'm prejudiced against her. But certainly there are more reputable, more respectable, better qualified and more electable women than Hillary Clinton? I'm a moderate fan of Olympia Snowe, who Wikipedia alleges is actually on McCain's list of potential vice-presidential candidates. So there's an interesting possibility there. Nancy Pelosi I would say is another good example of a woman who has the potential to serve as a fine and respectable president. Condoleezza Rice, I can forgive your associations with this so-called administration, as I think you would likely make a capable leader as well. So long as you can keep track of your in-office memos.
Enough of politics though.
Stated goals for myself in the coming months:
1. Get something published in a semi to major publication (i.e. magazine, Web site, etc.)
2. Write 30 poems between now and May 31st.
3. Ask certain girl out for a date.
4. Get rejected by previously mentioned girl then proceed to get really "emo" about it.
5. Omit any and all errors from Wednesday Night Massacre, my radio show on SCAD-Atlanta Radio.
6. Listen to "...And Justice For All" all the way through without stopping.
7. See "Shine a Light" directed by Martin "Kubrick wished he was as fun as me" Scorcese.
8. Resist the temptation to buy a new computer.
9. Get tattoo on my person. ( This has been a real source or procrastination, but that nonsense stops now!)
10. Go work out at the gym.
11. Eat at Medieval Times again.
Have you ever been to that place? Medieval Times? Great Odin's Raven! It's the absolute end-all-be-all of dining experiences. It's expensive as shit. $40 to get in, then like a fool I payed $22 for a beer stein as a souvenir/thing to hold my Samuel Adams in. But, in compensation for all this money, I got a quite acceptable meal and 2 and 1/2 hours of watching people ride around on horses swinging maces and axes at each other in a dance of carnage and chaos. All the while, driving myself to intoxication via said beer and Chaucer mead. This intoxication in fact lead to much riotous shouting, yelling, and general cheering. It was a group of about 7 of us who went; me, Robzor, Melanie, Heavy D (Jason), DigitalPimp (Drew), Charles, and Makoto, who was visiting America for the first time.
When you're seated, they seat you in color-coded sections that correspond with certain knights who are part of the narrative of the play/story that plays out over the course of the show. We were in the green section, and cheered furiously for the green knight in our quasi-drunken stupor. After the show, the different guys who played the knights came out for photo ops and just general meet-and-greet things. We got a picture of all of use huddled around our champion, who informed Drew that our cheering had made his night. Indeed, I knew in some way he acknowledged us, as over the course of the show when he would ride by us he would usually hoist up his lance or whatever weapon and shout back at us. The best phrase I can think of to describe it is: Roman-Gladiatorial-Feast-Funtime.
|
|
| Visions of Progress |
[26 Mar 2008|04:06pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Dark Tranquility |
] |
Begin excerpt:
"A philosopher/mathematician named Bertrand Russell who lived and died in the same century as Gass once wrote: "Language serves not only to express thought but to make possible thoughts which could not exist without it." Here is the essence of mankind's creative genius: not the edifices of civilization nor the bang-flash weapons which can end it, but the words which fertilize new concepts like spermatazoa attacking an ovum. It might be argued that the Siamese-twin infants of word/idea are the only contributions the human species can, will, or should make to the raveling cosmos
(Yes, our DNA is unique, but so is a salamander's. Yes, we construct artifacts but so have species ranging from beavers to the architect ants whose crenellated towers are visible right now off the port bow. Yes, we weave real-fabric things from the dreamstuff of mathematicians, but the universe is hard-wired with arithmetic. Scratch a circle and pi peeps out. Enter a new solar system and Tycho Brahe's formulae lie waiting under the black velvet cloak of space/time. But where has the universe hidden a word under its outer layer of biology, geometry, or insensate rock?) [...]
You see, in the beginning was the Word. And the Word was made flesh in the weave of the human universe. And only the poet can expand the universe, finding shortcuts to new realities [...] To be a poet, I realized, a true poet, was to become the avatar of humanity incarnate; to accept the mantle of poet is to carry the cross of the Son of Man, to suffer the birth pangs of the Soul-Mother of Humanity. To be a true poet is to become God."
That a little piece of this book I just started reading 3 days ago called "Hyperion" by Dan Simmons. In 1990, it won the Hugo Award for Best Science Fiction Novel over acclaimed authors like Orson Scott Card and Poul Anderson.
Everybody pretty much knows what I think of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and knows how attached I am to it, but right now this "Hyperion" is pretty much superior to F&L in every possible way save for comedy. But that's ok, because its not really supposed to be a funny book, but it is from time to time nonetheless. And I'm only half way done with it. I'm terribly excited to finish though. I don't know what other compliment I can pay to this book other than I was on the verge of tears last night as I read it. Science fiction isn't supposed to do that to you!! But it did to me, and I'm just enraptured by this book. Another compliment: you know it's a good book if the story is IMPOSSIBLE to translate into a feature-length film. And "Hyperion" definitely falls into that category. There's just no way.
I highly recommend this book to everyone, especially you Burn and Cap'n. I can't think of any kind of science fiction I've seen or read that I can compare this to, at least nothing that came before it.
Onto other things...
I've seen quite a few disturbing news articles over the past couple of days that really just, they make me sick is all I know to say. One story I saw on CNN documented how this woman, who worked at Walmart, was severly hurt in a trucking accident while working. By severely hurt, I mean brain damaged. Add on top of that, not long ago her only son was killed serving in Iraq. Now this is where the story will uttterly break your heart. Remember, brain damage. Every morning, she forgets that her son is dead, and her ex-husband has to re-remind her every day of this fact.
The real gist of this story comes in the part about how Walmart sued this couple to reclaim about $400,000 in a lawsuit settlement. The reason for this being that it was money that they received as part of her health plan with Walmart, but then when this couple had earlier sued Walmart for responisbility in the accident, that meant that according to her health policy she was technically forfeiting her right to this $400,000. Remember I mentioned her "ex-husband"? He only divorced her because that way she would receive more money, from her Medicare program I believe, something like that.
I understand that the issue here is policy and legality. If Walmart let's this slip one time, they could be inundated with problems in the future from other workers who might exploit their health care plan and in the process unfairly drain Walmart of massive amounts of money. But nevertheless, this is a horrifying story. My criticism isn't for Walmart, or for the couple, but yet again i just want to level my anger and frustration at systems of law and government. Law is a heartless thing, and that's a big reason why I hate it so much. That's all I'll say about it.
The other story I read just a few hours ago, and its much easier to explain. An 11 year old homeschooled girl got sick, and this was her parents idea of medical treatment: prayer. I'm so sorry for those of you who are truly spiritual, and you know I don't think badly of you at all an I understand and respect your beliefs. And I know too that a few people don't represent a religion as a whole. But religion is such a fucking sham. This girl died. "She had probably been ill for about 30 days, suffering symptoms such as nausea, vomiting, excessive thirst, loss of appetite and weakness," a police officer involved with the incident had said. An 11 year old girl died of a treatable condition in America, one of the most medically advanced nations on the earth. Because her parents wanted to pray. Her parents were so self-absorbed in their own little world, talking to their imaginary friend, too busy to take their child to the hospital. These 2 individuals are no worse than the parents who were too busy playing World of Warcraft to feed their child, and they should go to jail for what they did.
/end rant.
Classes started this week, and there's so much to look forward to. I think next week I'll be buying my very own MacBook Pro. I'm leaving IBM systems behind. I'm evolving, like tadpoles out of the swamp.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
agentbraddick's journal